“Just thinking,” I replied.
“That’s dangerous,” she teased.
I laughed softly, then sobered.“Come here.”
She looked up then, something shifting in her expression.She stood and crossed the space between us, her hand finding mine automatically.That still stunned me sometimes, how easy it was now.How natural.
I took a breath.There were a hundred ways to say it.I chose the truth.
“I don’t want a life where you’re temporary,” I started.“I don’t want borrowed time.I don’t want one foot out the door because I’m afraid something good won’t last.”
Her eyes softened.“Dante?—”
“I know I’m not easy,” I continued.“I know my world comes with weight.History.People who expect things of me.But you didn’t run from that.You stood in it with me.And I don’t want to imagine a future where I don’t come home to you.”
Her breath hitched.
I reached into my pocket, my hand steady despite the way my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.I dropped to one knee—not because tradition demanded it, but because it felt right kneel before her, my eyes locked to hers, vulnerable.
“Nita,” I said, voice low, sure.“Will you marry me?”
For a moment, she didn’t speak.Then tears spilled, unguarded, beautiful.She dropped to her knees in front of me, hands cradling my face like I was the one who needed reassurance.
“Yes,” she whispered.“God, yes.”
I slid the ring onto her finger, my hands shaking now that the question was answered.She laughed through tears, pressing her forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine like a promise.
“I love you,” she said.
“I know,” I replied softly.“And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it.”
The club heard about it before we could even make it inside the next night to celebrate.
Gonzo slapped me on the back hard enough to jolt my spine.Tower nodded once, approving.Dippy grinned like he’d already predicted it.Burn giving his smirk of approval and Jester sharing a beer with me.
Nita stood among them like she had always been there, her hand in mine, the ring catching the light.
And for the first time in my life, the future didn’t feel like a threat.
It felt like home.
Nita
I used to believe survival was the same thing as strength.
That if I kept moving—kept succeeding, kept proving myself indispensable—nothing bad could catch me.That love was a variable you accounted for, not a place you rested.
Then I was chained to a post in a basement and learned how wrong I was.
Survival kept me alive.
Love brought me back.
Three months later, I woke up beside Dante with the slow, easy certainty of someone who wasn’t bracing for loss.Morning light filtered through the curtains, catching on the quiet lines of his face, the scars that told a story I was still learning how to read.
I watched him breathe.
There was a time when I counted breaths because I was afraid they would stop.Now I counted them because I could.
