39. EPILOGUE
“Angel?”
My brow puckered as pain slammed through my head. Fuck, that was bad. Worse than when I’d been drugged, worse than any hangover I’d had in the past. Moving from the hospital to back home had been a nightmare, even if I was glad to get away from all the beeps and the machines.
Wincing, I reached up, rubbed my temple, then whispered, “Sin?”
“Lily called. She wants to come see you,” he relayed.
“Tell her to come visit.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “Please?”
He dipped down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “She says to come visit, Lily.”
I peered out from between my fingers, watching as he cut the call soon after. “Where’s Mom?”
That had him rolling his eyes, even as he reached over to the nightstand for a glass of water. As he passed it to me, he gathered some pills from there too. “Barricaded in her room at Lily’s.”
After I took a sip, then swallowed down the meds, I sighed. “I’m surprised you managed to make her stay.”
“We Sinners can be persuasive.”
My eyes widened at that, which, of course, made the extra light make me feel like each individual ray had turned into a knife that was spearing me in the eyeballs. As the pain ricocheted inside me, I managed to get out, “Does that mean you locked her in?”
He snorted. “Do you really want to know?”
Christ.
I cleared my throat. “She’s safe, though, right?”
“Yes, of course. You both are.” He grunted. “I let you down, angel, but it won’t happen again.”
“You didn’t know.”
“No, but we could have predicted it. I’m Enforcer now, and I’ll make fucking sure no one touches you again.” He blew out a breath. “He didn’t come for you.”
I tensed at that. “He didn’t?”
“No. He came for Lily.”
That didn’t make me feel a whole helluva lot better.
“Did you think she was under threat?”
“Link said he knew that Donavan Lancaster had arranged for Lily to marry Gianni Fieri, but he thought she was safe because he’s still in jail.”
“Shortsighted,” I rasped.
“The whole MC was. Sometimes, we forget?—”
“Forget, what?”
“That not everyone is afraid of us.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m sorry, angel.”
“You keep saying that, but it’s not your fault. It’s Donavan Lancaster’s for thinking he can marry Lily off like she’s a commodity. It’s not your fault my father got involved with the mafia, and that—” I bit my lip, unable to think about my biological father or deal with the clusterfuck there. “Who was he? Specifically?”
“You sure you want to know?”
I didn’t. But, also, I did. “Yeah.”
“Your half-brother.”
My stomach roiled at that, but I nodded as I swallowed it back.
All this time, I’d thought I was a cut above the rest, but crime was in my blood on both sides.
Mom’s father was a loan shark, and my biological father? Only God knew what he’d done in his time.
I pressed a hand to my mouth as I closed my eyes. It had been two days since I’d learned the truth from Mom, and I still couldn’t handle it.
“I miss my daddy,” I whispered, feeling like a five-year-old, but it was true.
We’d always been close. Always.
“Whether or not you know the truth, he was always your father, angel,” Sin murmured, somehow digging to the heart of the matter without even trying. “Miss him, and grieve him, but don’t worry about things that don’t matter. And Fieri? Doesn’t matter.”
My throat felt tight. “You can’t say that.”
“Can’t I?”
“What if he finds out?—”
“He won’t. The kid was here for Lily. Not you.” He reached down and cupped my chin. “Sweetheart, your mom overreacted. If she hadn’t eavesdropped on a conversation she should never have been listening in on, you wouldn’t know. There’s no point in worrying about this shit.”
“You can’t?—”
“I can, and I know how I’m going to stop this in its tracks.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, even as, carefully, I started sitting up. The meds weren’t doing much yet, but lying down felt wrong for this conversation. It made me groan a few times, but I felt jubilant when I was upright.
“What are you talking about?” I inquired gruffly, pain making my voice deeper.
“I’m talking about this.” A box appeared out of nowhere. He placed it on my lap. “You can read into this as many ways as you want. Me doing this to protect you. Me doing this out of guilt. Me doing this because I’m ashamed. Me?—”
I scowled at him. “If this is your idea of a proposal,” I butted in, “then you’re shit at it.”
His lips curved into a wide grin, but he surprised me by jabbing his finger at me. “That. That is why I want to marry you.”
“What is?”
“Tiffany. The way she is. Who you are. What you are. That’s why I want to make you mine every way I can.” He pulled open the box, revealing a pink diamond that made me gasp. The clarity was incredible, and the size?
Jesus.
Sin wasn’t lying when he said he could support me.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t need supporting. I just needed him.
“Yes,” I told him simply.
His lips twisted. “You didn’t give me the chance to ask you.”
“You already asked. I want to be yours. Every way I can be.”
Nostrils flaring at that, he rumbled, “Don’t talk dirty when you’re out of action.”
I snickered, then winced when my head pounded with it. “I always talk dirty.”
“Nah, you actually don’t.” He winked at me. “We have time to give you lessons in it.”
Sticking out my tongue at him, I grumbled, “Meanie.”
“Hardly.” His grin revealed how happy he was, but what confirmed it? When he slid the ring down my finger, raised my hand to his mouth, and kissed it. “I do feel guilty. I am ashamed. I will always protect you. But I can do that without this ring. I want you tied to me this way so that the entire fucking world knows you’re mine. No question. No doubt. Do you hear me?”
His words sent a thrill through me, and trust me, I was in no state to be thrilled.
My body hurt. My head hurt. Deep inside, I hurt.
My belly was empty, where once life had bloomed. My heart was raw from losing not only the baby, who’d barely had the chance to be alive, but from my dad, and from learning the truth of my lineage.
Everything was upended, but not this.
Never what Sin and I had.
The ring represented what it had for thousands of years—eternity. A couple destined to be together for eternity.
“Sin?”
He hummed under his breath. “Angel?”
“I hear you.” Then, I reached for his hand, cupped it, and huskily asked, “I want to wear your brand.”
His eyes lit up. “You do?”
Slowly, I nodded. “I do.”
“I didn’t want to ask?—”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re not a regular woman, Tiff.”
“I know I’m not. I’m yours.”
He grinned at me. “Yeah, you are.”
“So you should have known that if you wanted the world to know I’m yours, I’d want the same.”
His eyes sparkled. “That can be arranged.”
“Good. Now, will you help me shower, please? I don’t want Lily to see me like this. The last time she did, she started sobbing and she broke my heart. I don’t want that. I want her to see my ring and to be happy.”
“Of course, angel.” He pressed a kiss to my ring. “And then I’ll make an appointment with my regular tattooist.”
Even though my world was in chaos, I still had it in me to smile at him.
My happiness was entwined with his, and he’d just proven that by slipping a ring on my finger when, in his world, rings meant nothing.
For us, however, we’d always be different.
When he reached over, he proved how perfect we were for one another, as he bowed his head, pressed a kiss to my stomach, and whispered, “Goodbye, little angel.”
My eyes flooded with tears because he didn’t say, ‘there’ll be more kids in the future.’ He didn’t discredit this child, this loss. He said farewell, and he tied my heart up in him with those three words, earning a love that was undying, and a loyalty that could never be equaled.
I was his.
He was mine.
And Benito Fieri? Could get fucked if he thought he could tear us asunder.