Her lips curve into a smile, small at first, then growing until it’s bright, beautiful, and everything I need to see. “I’m counting on it, City Boy.”
Behind us, the club erupts into laughter and music again, the news already forgotten as they return to celebrating. But I keep my eyes on Marley, on the woman who faced down her abuser, who stood beside me through literal fire, accusations, and nearly losing everything.
The woman who choseme.
Who chosethis life.
Who choseus.
Sin appears beside us, Victoria at his side, and he claps a hand on my shoulder. “Your girl’s got steel in her spine,” he says, hisvoice low enough that only the four of us can hear. “She’s going to fit in just fine.”
Marley looks up at him, and something passes between them—mutual respect, understanding, acceptance. “Thank you,” she says simply.
Sin nods, then raises his voice to address the room. “Brothers! Sisters! Tonight, we celebrate justice. We celebrate family. And we celebrate the fact that Derek Fletcher is exactly where he belongs… rotting in hell.”
The clubhouse roars in approval, drinks are raised, and the party kicks back into full gear.
I pull Marley onto my lap, holding her close, and let myself feel it, the relief, the victory, the overwhelming gratitude that she’s here, that she’s mine, that we made it through.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, her fingers tracing the lines of my jaw.
“That I’m the luckiest bastard alive,” I reply honestly. “And that I’m never letting you go.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She leans in, kissing me, softly, slowly, and full of everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve survived, everything we’re going to build together.
When we finally break apart, she’s smiling, and I realize that this, right here, right now, is what happiness looks like.
Messy, complicated, built on ashes and second chances.
But ours.
Completely and irrevocably ours.
And as the night stretches on, filled with laughter, music, and the family I chose, I hold Marley close and let myself believe in happy endings.
Because sometimes, against all odds, the good guys win.
And the monsters get precisely what they deserve.
Chapter Thirty-Three
MARLEY
Six Months Later
The morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our bedroom, casting golden patterns across the hardwood floors. Our bedroom. Not his apartment, not a temporary space, butours. The house we bought together three months ago, nestled in a quiet neighborhood just outside the chaos of the Strip, with enough space for all of us and a backyard where Queenie can sit in the sunshine.
I watch Nitro sleep, his face peaceful in a way it rarely is when he is awake. The last six months have etched new lines around his eyes, but they’re softer now. Lines from laughter instead of worry. From smiling instead of grinding his teeth through another crisis.
Derek’s arrest and subsequent death feel like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been six months. The image of him being led away in handcuffs, his smug expression finally cracking into panic, plays in my mind sometimes. Ghost’s recordings had been airtight. Every confession, every boast about the fire and the deaths he caused without remorse. The media frenzy that followed Derek’s arrest and death was almost as intense as the one that had nearly destroyed us.
Almost.
But this time, the narrative shifted.
