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“You’re not my property. Never will be.”

Her eyes start shining.

Shit. Mine probably aren’t doing much better.

I look around the table before bringing my attention back to her. “But I want you to be mine.” Her lips part. “The person I come home to when all this shit is done.” I swallow past the sudden knot sitting in my throat. “I want you beside me in Church when you feel like being here, in my bed every fucking night you want to be there, and giving me shit for the rest of my life because apparently I’m into that.”

A couple of laughs break around the table, but I don’t look away from her. “I don’t want to own you, Echo.” My thumb moves over her knuckles. “I just want you to keep choosing me.” A tear slips down her cheek. “And if you want it too…” I glance down at our joined hands, then back into those luminous eyes. “I’d be pretty fucking proud to call you my Old Lady.”

The room stays quiet while Echo stares at me.

“Well?” I ask.

Her watery laugh breaks free. “Give me a second. I wasn’t expecting you to suddenly grow feelings with your voice.”

That gets the room laughing.

I grin. “They’ve been there the whole time.”

Sentinel chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I sneer at him, but Echo grabs the front of my cut and pulls me down until our mouths are inches apart. “Yeah, Carnage. I’ll be your Old Lady.”

Something in my chest settles. “Good.”

“Still not your property, though.”

I smile at her, all teeth and gums. “Wouldn’t fucking dare.” And I kiss her.

Someone wolf-whistles.

“Jesus Christ,” Scar says from somewhere behind me. “Malgrave gives him his voice back, and suddenly he’s fucking Shakespeare.”

Laughter explodes around the table.

I pull away from Echo just enough to glare at him. “You want me to lose it again?”

Scar grins. “Kinda.”

“Fuck you.” I flip him the bird.

Scar chuckles. “Nope, he’s still an asshole.”

Echo laughs against my mouth, and I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

My Old Lady.

Because she chose it.

Because she chose me.

Sentinel opens his mouth, halfway through a breath that’s clearly the opening line of something unbearably smug, and I turn on him before a single sound gets out. “Don’t.”

He shuts it, and the room detonates.

Wreck is out of his chair first, his fist slamming the table hard enough to rattle every bottle on it. Ruckus lets out a whoop loud enough to wake the dead, and Scar has already got a bottle of something dark and expensive he was apparently saving for exactly this occasion, pouring shots down the table faster than anyone can grab a glass.

Roxy gets to Echo before Cali can, throwing both arms around her with a laugh while Cali climbs halfway across Scar’s lap to join in from the other side, trapping Echo between them.