I tell them everything. Tristan’s brow furrows as I speak, and Dante’s face turns redder with each word. When I get the part about Luca bribing one of the guards, Dante tells the guy nextto him, “Make a note. I want that guy blacklisted from every security company in the city.” To me, he adds, “And if Luca thinks he’s going to get away with what he did, he’s about to find out just how wrong he is. If either of you gets so much as a hint that he’s sniffing around again before then, call me.”
Tristan and I both nod.
Dante sniffs. His expression softens. “You look good in that dress, cupcake.”
“You really do.” Tristan kisses my cheek. “In fact…” He reaches into his pocket again, but this time he hesitates. “Actually, you know what? This is really bad timing. Forget I said anything.”
“What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
Tristan licks his lips. Dante nods for him to continue, but he’s so focused on my face that I don’t think he notices.
“I love you, Minerva. When I thought you left, it nearly wrecked me. I never want to go through anything like that again. Which is why…” He produces a velvet box from his pocket. “I want to ask you something.”
Tristan opens the lid, revealing the most perfectly ‘me’ ring I’ve ever seen.
“Minerva, would you do me the honor—”
“Yes!” I squeak. I lean sideways to throw my arms around him. It’s an awkward embrace, with my skirt filling half the space and Kepler’s cage still balanced on my lap, but we make it work.
Nothing on Earth will force me to part from this man ever again. A little obstacle like object permanence isn’t even enough to slow me down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tristan
The arena is electric. Venom jerseys fill the stands, the drumline pounds, and fans chant our names. The overall vibe is that of a New Orleans Carnivale, but I only have eyes for one person through the glass.
Minerva is up in the stands, wearing my number. Wearing my ring. Her hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and the joy in her eyes is electric. She’s grinning like she still can’t believe this is real.
Neither can I.
Something in my chest pulls tight—relief so sharp it almost hurts. I nearly lost her. I’m still not over it.
“Nervous about the game?” Knight asks.
I shake my head. I haven’t told the rest of the team about what happened when Minerva disappeared. After facing down Vito, I’m not going to get too worked up about a game. After all, I’m pretty confident that nobody here is going to pull a gun on me or leave a decapitated horse head in my bed.
“Nah, he’s too distracted by his fiancée.” Viktor makes kissy noises in my ear. “Keep your head in the game tonight, okay? Victory sex is always better than post-loss pity sex, am I right?”
Knight elbows Vik. “So thoughtful of you to look after Tristan’s sexual interests.”
“Dude, who cares about Tristan? If he lets his mind wander, we could lose, and then it’ll be pity sex all around. I’m looking out for me!”
The chirping fades under the one truth humming under my skin—she’s here. Mine to look for. Mine to play for.
I catch Minerva’s eye and lift my stick in greeting. Minerva responds by wiggling her fingers. That flicker of a wave—the same way she used to greet me when she barely believed she belonged here.
Now?
She owns the damn place.
Buffalo hung with us during the first and second, not giving an inch. It’s been tied at three for over twenty minutes.
As the third period winds down, every play is a war. Every pass, a heartbeat. We’re in our zone, grinding, shifting, pushing. I see Bowen out of the corner of my eye and know he’s got one more run in him.
“One minute remaining!” the announcer shouts.
Fuck overtime.
