Riley’s is not innocent at all.
Something is happening.
I head for the staircase, shaking my head.
From the kitchen I hear Riley murmur, “He has no idea.”
And Mara whisper back, “Don’t ruin it.”
I pause halfway up the stairs. What exactly am I walking into?
Three years.
Three years since snow and storms and abandoned sheds. Three years since Lucian offered me freedom and I chose him instead. Three years of building something that didn’t exist before—something neither of us had a blueprint for.
The house feels different now.
Lighter.
Safer.
Lucian still runs the city. Still commands rooms full of men who would sell their own blood for territory. But at home… he laughs more. Sleeps deeper. Comes to bed without the smell of metal clinging to him most nights.
The elevator ride down that day—him stopping it just to kiss me—feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time.
I reach the master bedroom door and push it open casually.
Rose petals scatter across the hardwood floor. Red against dark wood. Soft candlelight flickers along the walls.
My breath catches.
Lucian stands near the center of the room. Black suit tailored perfectly to his frame. Crisp. Sharp. Devastating. There’s stubble along his jaw—intentional, I know him well enough to recognize it. Not unkempt. Just enough to soften the lines of his face in the way he knows I like.
He looks younger and older at the same time. Less haunted. More certain.
“Lucian,” I breathe.
He smiles at me.
Not the smirk.
The real one.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says.
I look down at the petals beneath my feet and laugh softly. “You shoot traitors and negotiate territory lines, but this is what you’re doing with your afternoon?”
He steps closer.
“For once,” he says, “I wanted something predictable.”
My heart begins to pound.
“You’re terrifying when you’re cryptic,” I say.
“I know.”
He drops to one knee. The world tilts. My breath leaves me in a rush.
