I pace, muscles coiled tight. The estate sprawls below—soldiers stiff, doors opening and closing in endless rhythm. But it’s all noise, meaningless compared to the thought of her—her laugh, the tilt of her head, the weight of her gaze when she looks up from a joke, a drink, a sketch, unaware that I’ve been carrying the memory of her beneath my ribs, humming with danger.
I can almost feel her warmth before I see it, the familiar pulse of her presence that has haunted my every thought. I imagine the way she’ll glance up when I walk into the room, eyes widening just slightly, eyebrows lifting in that exact way that says,You? Here?And I know, without a doubt, that she’ll still remember the spaces we carved out for each other—the stolen laughter, the stolen touches, the stolen nights that no one else could touch.
My pulse quickens, hands itching to reach for the proof that she’s still real. I can almost taste her, silk against skin, the scent of her hair tangled in the wind, the brush of her shoulder against mine as we talk, tentative at first, testing, remembering.
This could be the start of something—our second chance, fragile and dangerous, threaded through with all the mistakes, regrets, and half-truths of the past year. If I’m not careful, I’ll ruin it before it begins. If I’m not careful, she’ll ruin me.
But I’m so fucking tired of pretending I can stay away.
I stand at the window, eyes tracing the broken puzzle of the city below, feeling every nerve raw, every muscle taut. Girls are being moved like cargo. Someone inside is greasing the wheels. Everything is collapsing around us.
And Lily—sweet, dangerous, impossible Lily—remains the only thing I want in a world made of rubble.
I shouldn’t trust her. Not fully. Not yet. I still don’t know what’s real and fake when it comes to her and her mother. Even now, part of me wonders if she was really tied up in Jen’s recruitment of girls for Angus and whether I’ll survive knowing.
But the bigger part—the reckless, ruined part—doesn’t give a damn.
I’ll find her. We’ll talk. One way or another, we’ll drag the truth out from under all the lies and I’ll make her remember us, remember me. And if Salvatore or anyone else thinks they can cage her? No one touches her. Not while I’m breathing.
Because this weekend, for the first time in over a year, she feels close enough to reach.
And I’m done pretending my hands won’t burn the second they’re on her again.
Chapter 26
By the time Abbie and Cora burst through the arrivals gate—each dragging an obnoxiously large suitcase for a simple weekend trip—the airport already feels too crowded. Liam and Aidan flank them, wearing matching dark suits and scowls as they scan the airport with that alert stillness that never looks casual.
Two more men follow—Smithy, and a fourth I don't recognise. Bigger, broader, a scar running from his ear to his jaw. Clearly, Logan opted to find the scariest-looking guy he could when he had to replace Cole as one of Abbie’s guards.
When Cora spots me, she doesn’t walk, shelaunches.
A sharp little squeal leaves her, the kind she only ever makes when she’s forgotten to pretend she’s cool, and before I can so much as uncurl my fingers from my suitcase handle, I’m swallowed in one of her bone-crushing hugs. Abbie barrels in next, arms looping around both of us like a human seatbelt, laughing into my shoulder as if we haven’t FaceTimed three times this week.
For a heartbeat—just one—everything feels stupidly, beautifully normal.
Warm skin, familiar perfume, their breaths catching with excitement against my neck.
And for that single suspended moment… it’s easy to forget.
To forget that eyes follow me everywhere now. That every step I take has a shadow stitched to it. That safety is something none of us are promised anymore.
But the illusion cracks the instant I glance past Cora’s shoulder and see Liam’s gaze snag on mine. The stern look on his face, the gaping absence on his left. There’s no third brother standing with him anymore, and that absence feels like a bullet tearing through me every single time. Knowing my own mother likely played a role in Cole’s death makes it worse—a heavy, unspoken, guilt I can’t carry without lowering my head.
Abbie’s voice cuts through the silence. “Lily, this is Duncan.” She gestures toward the scarred man, who inclines his head but doesn’t smile.
“We said four was overkill, but well, you know how it is,” she adds with a roll of her eyes.
I nod, even though it isn’t a question. Guards walking a step behind us, men lingering outside dressing rooms pretending to check their phones while really scanning exits, and alwaysclearing a building before we set foot inside—it used to be my life, every instinct wired to expect it, every step second nature.
A year away from it hasn’t dulled the rhythm, hasn’t erased the strange comfort it brings, even if I don’t belong here anymore. I miss it sometimes, the way it felt normal to live like this, even as it consumed me.
We’re three boutiques in, and I’ve already lost count of how many times Abbie’s said the wordrevengewhile holding up lace. Liam and Duncan stand near the doorway, arms crossed, expressions carved from stone, while Aidan and Smithy rotate outside like some kind of invisible perimeter, their reflections flashing every time the glass doors slide open.
“I want something that screams, ‘I wore black to spite you, and I’d do it again,’” Abbie declares, holding up a sheer robe trimmed with lace. “But also… maybe whispers, ‘Come ruin me now that I’ve fallen head over heels for you.’”
Cora laughs. “You didn’t even sleep with him that night. Logan spent the entire night on the sofa.”
“He did,” Abbie admits with a shrug. “Iconic of us, I know. But it’s nearly been two years and we’ve survived family wars and assassination attempts since then. I think when things are settled, I deserve a do-over. With a white dress, champagne… maybe even a little dancing in the moonlight. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t show up.”
