"Wait."Shegrabs my hand asItry to pull away. "Yousaid... you said wife."
Ifreeze.Theadrenaline is fading, but the resolve isn't.
"Idid."
"Didyou mean it?"
Ilook at the woman who walked into a federal trap for me.Thewoman who committed a felony to save my club.Thewoman who let me breed her on a steel table in a panic room.
"Staythere,"Isay.
Ipull out of her—a wet, messy slide that makes me hiss—and zip my jeans.Iwalk over to the far wall, to the heavy tool chest whereIkeep my equipment.Notguns.Tools.Calipers.Files.Amicro-torch.
Iopen the bottom drawer.
Thesmall velvet pouch sits there, stolen from the display case atPeakWildernessOutfitters.Ididn't steal the ring, though.Imade it.Ifinished filing the steel while she was sleeping.
Igrab the pouch and walk back to her.
Shesits up, clutching the front of my oversized flannel together, her head tilting as she tracks my every move.Istand between her legs again, ignoring the mess we made.
"Idon't do gold,"Isay, my voice steady. "Goldis soft.Itbends.It’svaluable, yeah, but it's weak."
Iopen the pouch and tip the ring into my palm.
It’snot delicate.It’sa band of high-grade 316L stainless steel.Industrial.Surgical.Ispent three nights filing it down, polishing it until it shone like a mirror.Iheated it, hammered it, tempered it.Insidethe band,Iengraved a sequence of numbers.Nota date.Coordinates.TheexactGPSlocation of thisVault.
"Thisis steel,"Itell her, holding it up. "Itdoesn't bend.Itdoesn't break.Youcan bang it against a filing cabinet or dip it in acid, and it won't change.That'swhatIwant.That'swhat we are."
Miastares at the ring.Hereyes fill with tears. "Elias..."
"Imeasured your finger,"Iremind her."It'sa size six.Exactly."
Shelaughs, a wet, choked sound. "Youcreep."
"I'ma thorough creep."Itake her left hand.Herfingers are slender and ink-stained.Beautiful. "MiaCarlson.I'mkeeping you.I'mclaiming you.I'mmaking you mine in every way that counts."
Islide the ring onto her finger.
Itfits perfectly.Idon't make mistakes with numbers.Thecool metal slides over her knuckle and settles at the base of her finger.Itlooks right.Thedark, polished steel against her pale skin.Apromise.
"Marryme,"Isay.
Shelooks from the ring to my face. "Yes."
Ilet out a breathIdidn't knowIwas holding. "Good.BecauseIwasn't asking."
Shewraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss.It’sgentle this time.Sweet.Apromise of a thousand mornings to come.
"So," she whispers against my lips. "Doesthis meanIget a raise?"
Isnort. "You'retheCFOnow, baby.Youcan pay yourself whatever you want."
"Ijust want theTreasurer."Shetightens her grip on me."Andmaybe, eventually, a cabin on the ridge."
Ilift her off the table, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body seep into my cold, gray soul.
"Yougot him,"Ipromise. "Yougot all of him.AndI'llbuild you whatever house you want."
