My girls, safe.
Livia, the secret softie.
And out there, in the sunshine, dragons and witches and dogs and cats, all in their own kind of heaven.
I let a smile break free, small enough nobody'd see it but me.
The world had nearly chewed us up. Now, it was ours again.
I kept my post at the window. The show never got old. Every new flight, each spin of magic, every moment my girls looked less like survivors and more like champions.
Let SkyArc stew. Let the Order rot. My family was living free.
The oven timer chimed its warning before I could finish my mental victory lap. Chance barreled into the kitchen as Livia stepped outside.
His hair was a mess, dark curls rumpled. The battered black t-shirt clung to his shoulders, sleeves rolled up past the muscle. His eyes flicked to the girls outside, then back to me, and the look he aimed my way was pure hunger and not for the food.
He set the tray on the counter. The smell doubledin the warm air. Yeasty, sharp, so rich I almost swooned. The rolls themselves were gorgeous with glossy tops.
He wasted zero time. Before I could comment on the art display, he moved behind me, molded himself to my spine, and wrapped his arms around my waist. His chin dropped to my neck, and lips landed just below my jaw.
I arched back, letting him anchor me for a heartbeat. The entire mountain could have exploded, and I wouldn't have let go. Even the kitchen, with its sunlit windows and cat who clearly disapproved, seemed to hold its breath for this.
I turned until I faced him. For a blink, I just soaked it in, the heat of him, the fresh-baked rolls, the sun bouncing off every surface, and the sound of Fifi howling in victory from the clearing. Like we'd all landed in a reality where people actually got what they wanted.
"Hey." His thumb stroked my hip, grounding. "You okay?"
That was the question, wasn't it? I stared at him, heart pounding, then took his hand. Big and warm, I placed it low, right below my belly button, exactly where it needed to be to make my point.
His brows drew together, confusion atfirst.
"I thought I was just nervous. I felt off, but now I know. It wasn't nerves."
He blinked.
The realization hit him all at once. Every muscle in his body tensed, like he was holding back a hurricane. His hand curled around my stomach, and the expression on his face… I'd never seen that kind of shock and pride and hope stacked together.
The pans above the stove rattled. Not subtle, not even close. Caden must have been celebrating like it was the end of the world.
Chance's eyes burned gold, wild with it. He hauled me up, nearly lifting me off the ground, and growled right into my hair. "Mine. Ours. Always." It sounded more like Caden than Chance, but they were both mine.
Ours. Taryn agreed with them.
He buried his face in my neck, words muffled but thunderous. "Say it again. Please."
I did, but out loud this time. "Ours."
Chance kept a death grip on my waist. He kissed my temple, then my cheek, then, just because he could, the tip of my nose.
Outside, Fifi shrieked and executed another wild aerial. Mere shouted approval. The sound cut straight through the windows.
Chance grinned, and his eyes shone.
"We're going to be okay," I said, needing to hear it out loud.
He nodded, solemn. "We're going to be fucking incredible."
There was nothing but the two of us, the lingering heat of the oven, and Caden's joy shaking the kitchen cookware like it was the Fourth of July.
Chance caught my hand, laced our fingers, then pressed his palm to my belly again. This time, he didn't let go.
Mine. Ours. Always.
Sometimes you get a second chance. Sometimes you have to grab the miracle with both hands and hold on, even if your knuckles go white.
So I did.
