“It’s still here,” I whisper, tracing the deep carvings we made as teenagers.
The letters are worn with age, but the bark still holds them protectively, like a witness that refuses to forget.
Our tree stood tall while life happened—tragedies, heartbreak, resurrection, and second chances—waiting for us to find each other again.
The sentiment we carved that day remains the same.
“Even if it wasn’t,” Elias murmurs, turning me to face him. “It’ll always live here.”
He takes my hand and presses it against his chest, letting me feel the steady, loyal beats of his heart.
Then, he takes out something small wrapped in foil from his pocket and hands it to me.
Geraldine’s Chocolates. He’s always given me a piece every time we visited the gardens.
“You remember the ritual,” I whisper.
“I remember everything about you.”
With my heart full, I unwrap the chocolate and plop it into my mouth.
Their champagne special edition flavor—the same flavor he gave me when we first arrived in Chicago after we got married.
“I should’ve known it was you then,” I mutter.
Elias chuckles and cups my face reverently.
I think of the young girl at boarding school with dreams of a bright future with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.
I think of the gentle boy with a kind heart who vowed to love her forever.
I think about my parents’ photos—how they looked at each other like they were the answer they’d been searching for their entire lives.
The same way the man before me is looking at me now.
Elias Kent is and isn’t Kian Leste.
He’s still the king of the underworld, the dealer of secrets.
He’s still in The Antihero Syndicate.
He’s stepped away from The Association in a rare exception—something The Fifth weren’t happy about.
But my husband’s too dangerous to cross.
“The Carusos know what I did for them,” Elias had said last month when I asked about The Association. “They owe me.”
His phone buzzes. Elias takes it out, scans the screen, then frowns.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Gabriel Caruso wants a meeting. My guess is he wants to keep tabs on me.”
“But I thought you were out.”
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as getting out of The Association. Unless you’re in a body bag. Anything they say otherwise is BS.”
“What are you going to do? The Berishas aren’t a threat anymore, but the rest of them…”
