And I’m his in my body, heart, and future.
EPILOGUE
MAX
Six months later.
Istand under a canopy of white flowers, the late afternoon sun warming my skin as I watch Sydney walk toward me.
She’s breathtaking in white lace that hugs her curves and flows like water around her feet. Her eyes lock with mine across the small gathering, and the same electric chemistry that hit me the night of the auction surges through me stronger than ever.
This time, it’s for forever.
Ben walks beside my bride. After months of intensive rehab, he’s steady on his feet with only a cane to aid him. He’s still protective as hell, but the man has thawed.
He gave me his blessing two weeks ago over a tense beer at Alex’s house. “Hurt her and I’ll end you,” he said. Then, quieter: “She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. Don’t fuck it up.” I shook his hand and meant every word when I promised I wouldn’t.
Alex stands to my right as my best man, Rosie beside Sydney as maid of honor. My half-brother and I have repaired what years of estrangement damaged. Late-night talks, shared scars from our father’s legacy, and the common ground of protecting the women we love have rebuilt our brotherhood.
He grips my shoulder now, a silent show of support.
Rik, and his second in command, Danyl, who’s also my and Alex’s cousin, plus a few other trusted Kedrovs sit in the small audience. The family is at peace.
Mercer’s empire is dust, justice served, and his cronies never made the connection between me and the take-down. My undercover days are behind me. I’m finally free to build a real life.
When Sydney reaches me, I take her hands, my thumbs stroking her knuckles the way I did in that hospital cafeteria when I groveled for her heart. Her smile is radiant, eyes shining with happy tears.
“You look like mine,” I murmur just for her as the officiant begins.
“I am yours,” she whispers back. “Always.”
The ceremony is short and intimate. We exchange vows with raw honesty.
I promise to protect her, cherish her, and never push her away again.
She promises to trust me with her heart the way she’s trusted me with her body. When I slide the ring onto her finger, the possessive surge I feel is deeper than anything before. She’s my wife. I’m her husband.
The reception is small. We have dinner on the penthouse terrace with speeches and toasts. Ben and Alex even share a reluctant laugh.
I watch Sydney move among our people, glowing, and my chest feels too full. This is the happiness I never let myself want while chasing revenge.
Later, after guests have left and the city lights sparkle below, I carry my wife into our bedroom. The same room where I spent our first time together claiming her, and where we’ve rebuilt our relationship.
I set her down gently and cup her face. “Mrs. Kedrov,” I say, voice thick. “My wife.”
Sydney giggles. She’s a little tipsy from the wedding champagne. “It’s weird that Perla, Liza, Rosie, and I are all called Mrs. Kedrov, like we’re the same woman.”
I kiss her nose. “I know the difference. You’re the one who’s my wife.”
Her hands slide up my chest, unbuttoning my shirt with trembling fingers. “And you’re my husband. The man who bought me, broke my heart, and put it back together better than before.”
I kiss her lips slowly, pouring every apology and promise into it. When we break apart, I turn her and unzip her wedding dress with reverent care. The fabric pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but white lace panties and heels. I groan at the sight. “Fuck, baby. You’re stunning.”
I strip quickly and pull her onto the bed, covering her body with mine. The tenderness I feel wars with the dominant hunger that wakes whenever she’s near.
I kiss down her neck, her collarbone, taking one perfect nipple into my mouth and sucking until she arches and moans.
My hand dips between her thighs, finding her already soaked. “So wet for me on our wedding night,” I growl against her skin. “This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
