Declan's breathing deepened into sleep. I stayed awake a little longer, cataloging the feeling of this moment. The peace we'd earned. The love we'd fought for. The future that finally looked like more than just surviving.
When I finally drifted off, it was with the knowledge that tomorrow would come and we'd handle it together. That London was waiting. That whatever came next, we'd face it the same way we'd faced everything else.
Side by side. Bleeding if we had to. But never alone.
Not anymore.
NEW WINGS
DECLAN
One Month Later - London
Iwoke to gray London light filtering through curtains I still wasn't used to.
The room was too big. The ceiling too high. The bed too soft compared to the one I'd slept in for the past decade in Chicago. Everything about Ravenswood Manor felt like someone else's life, except for the fact that Troy was pressed against my side with his face buried in my neck and one leg hooked over mine in a tangle of limbs that had become familiar faster than anything else here.
I lay still for a moment. Let myself adjust to the reality that had taken a month to feel even remotely real.
We were in London.
Adrian had made the visa process move with an efficiency that suggested strings pulled and favors called in from people I probably didn't want to know about. When I'd tried to ask Troy about it, he'd just smiled and said Adrian had connections that made Luka's network look provincial. I'd wisely decided not to push for details.
Mara had taken over the Chicago branch of the rehab. Centre without hesitation. Had plans already forming about expansion and new programs and connections with local organizations that could feed clients our way. The center would be fine, and would probably be better than that with her running it. That knowledge had been the only thing that let me leave.
Troy shifted against me. Made a sleepy noise that might have been my name. I ran my hand down his spine, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the old t-shirt he'd stolen from my dresser before we'd packed up Chicago for good.
“You awake?” I asked quietly.
“No.” He pressed closer. “Still sleeping. Don't ruin it.”
“It's past nine. We're supposed to meet with the contractor at ten to go over the east wing renovations.”
“Fuck the contractor. Tell him we died.”
“Pretty sure he'll notice we're alive when we don't show up.”
Troy groaned. Lifted his head enough to glare at me with sleep-swollen eyes and hair sticking up in every direction. “I hate that you're a morning person now. It's deeply offensive.”
“I've always been a morning person.”
“Yeah, but in Chicago I could ignore it. This place is too big. You disappear into the house and I have to actually get up to find you.” He flopped back down. “It's a design flaw.”
I smiled despite myself. “We could fix that by staying in the same room.”
“We are in the same room.”
“I meant when we're both awake.”
“Revolutionary concept.” Troy rolled onto his back. Stared up at the ceiling with an expression that suggested he was still adjusting to the scale of everything too. “You know what's fucked up? I've been living here for three years and I still get lost. Yesterday I opened what I thought was a bathroom and found a library I didn't know existed.”
“How many libraries does this place have?”
“At least four. Maybe five if you count the study off Adrian's wing, which I don't because that's his territory and I value not being murdered.”
The casual mention of Adrian still felt surreal. I'd met the man exactly three times now. Once when we'd first arrived and he'd given us a tour of the sections of Ravenswood that would house the new rehab center. Once at a formal dinner that had felt like stepping into a period drama. And once when he'd cornered me in the hallway to ask, with terrifying politeness, whether I intended to hurt Troy.
I'd said no. He'd looked at me for a long moment with eyes that suggested he'd killed men for less than disappointing the people under his protection. Then he'd smiled and told me the west wing had excellent acoustics if we needed privacy.
