The Missouri highway stretches out like a promise, cornfields giving way to rolling hills. I've got one hand on the wheel, the other laced with Charity's fingers. Lucky's head pokes between the front seats of the rental car we picked up at the airport, tongue lolling, fully recovered from his near-death brush with GDV, and living his best life.
"You nervous?" Charity asks, thumb stroking across my knuckles.
"About seeing the guys? No." I glance at her, see the sunlight catching in her hair. Three months since the museum gala, two months since I proposed with a magic trick that made a diamond ring appear inside a crevice in one of her metal sculptures, and I still can't believe she's mine. "About your parents being there? Maybe a little."
She laughs. "They promised to behave. My mother actually asked what she should wear. To a farm."
"It's not a farm; it's a sanctuary."
"You know what I mean." She squeezes my hand. "They're trying. That's what matters."
Thering on her finger catches the light—a simple platinum band with a single diamond. Nothing ostentatious. Just like her.
“There’s something I should tell you,” I say.
“I already hate everything about this,” she warns.
“I’m not broke,” I say. “I never was. My cut from Fortuna’s gold? A bit over two million.”
Her mouth falls open. “Two. MILLION? And you never told me?”
“I wanted you to know you could walk away from your parents and build your life because you believed in yourself—not because you thought there was a secret mountain of ancient gold to prop you up.”
Her expression softens, gentle and warm. “Draco…”
“But also,” I add, “it was fun watching you insist on paying for takeout.”
She groans. “I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”
“I can live with that. I’ve survived worse. Gladiator, remember?”
I ease to the side of the road and give her the sweetest kiss. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Crap, Draco! You make it impossible to stay mad at you for even a minute!”
When we pull up to Second Chance Sanctuary, my chest tightens with something I don't expect. Nostalgia, maybe. Or gratitude. This place saved my life, even if I couldn't stay. The main house looks the same, the barn is freshly painted, and the training grounds are exactly wherewe learned to fight with modern rules instead of ancient death matches.
Laura's already outside, probably heard the car. She's got that same efficient ponytail, same warm smile. Behind her, Varro stands with his arms crossed, grinning like an idiot.
"Draco!" Laura pulls me into a hug before I'm fully out of the car. "Look at you. City life agrees with you."
"Can't complain." I step back so she can meet Charity. "Laura Turner, this is Charity. My fiancée."
I'll never get tired of saying that word.
"Oh, I know who she is." Laura takes Charity's hands, studies her face with that sharp archaeologist gaze. "Anima Venti. The sculpture at the Met—I saw photos. Stunning work."
Charity flushes with pleasure. "Thank you. And thank you for… for everything you did for him. For all of them."
"They did the hard part." Laura's smile softens. "I just gave them a chance."
Varro claps me on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Brother. About time you came home."
"Not home," I correct. "Just visiting."
"Still counts." He looks at Charity, then back at me. "You did good."
"I know."
