Epilogue
Elias
Snow always makes me sentimental.
It drifts past the tall windows of the Romano estate in slow, deliberate spirals, coating the courtyard in white and softening the sharp edges of the world outside.
I stand there for a moment with my tea in hand, watching it gather along the stone railing, thinking about the first time I arrived here.
I was nineteen. Angry. Wrapped in a red silk bow like a joke.
Now I’m barefoot in the den, wearing one of Lucian’s sweaters as Mara and Riley’s daughter toddles toward me.
“Lias,” Hannah babbles, wobbling toward me across the living room rug with determined little steps.
“That’s right,” I tell her solemnly. “Your favorite.”
Riley snorts from the couch. “That’s bold.”
Hannah promptly trips over her own foot and falls forward into my legs.
I scoop her up before she can protest, settling her on my hip. She smells like baby shampoo and whatever snack Mara gave her ten minutes ago.
“You’re getting heavy,” I tell her.
She responds by smacking my cheek enthusiastically.
“Assault!” I gasp.
Riley stands and crosses the room, holding his hands out. “Come here, tiny tyrant.”
Hannah twists toward her father immediately. An obvious betrayal.
I pass her over and Riley presses a loud kiss to her temple before she grabs his nose with both hands.
“See?” he says smugly. “Ranked above you.”
“You’re just taller,” I mutter.
Riley laughs and then leans in to kiss my cheek as he passes by me toward the kitchen.
“Gross,” I reply automatically, even though I smile.
Mara is already in the kitchen, one hand braced against the counter as she adjusts a tray of porcelain cups. Six months pregnant and glowing in that effortless way that makes me suspicious.
She looks up as we enter.
Hannah reaches for her mother, but Mara waves her off gently. “No lifting for me. Your father’s on duty.”
Riley rolls his eyes but adjusts his grip, balancing Hannah easily on one arm.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask Mara.
She smirks. “Did you?”
“Rude.”
She studies me knowingly for a moment, then glances at Riley.
They’re plotting.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing,” Riley says too quickly.
“Absolutely nothing,” Mara adds, which is worse.
I cross my arms. “You’re both terrible liars.”
Hannah squeals and grabs Riley’s ear, which momentarily distracts him from whatever conspiracy is happening.
Mara turns back to the counter and casually says, “Elias, can you grab the tea tray from the master bedroom?”
I blink. “Why is there a tea tray in my bedroom?”
“Because you left it there yesterday,” she says smoothly.
“I did not.”
She shrugs. “Memory fades with age.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Exactly.”
Riley chuckles under his breath.
I glance between them again.
Hannah points at me and yells something that might be “go.”
“Even she thinks you should,” Riley says.
“Traitor,” I tell her.
She claps.
Mara waves me off. “Just go get it before I send Riley.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.”
I lean down and kiss Hannah’s chubby cheek. “If this is a trap, you’re grounded.”
She drools on my shoulder in response.
Riley shifts her higher on his hip and nudges me toward the stairs. “Up you go.”
I take one last suspicious look at the three of them.
Mara’s smile is too innocent.
Riley’s is not innocent at all.
Something is happening.
I head for the staircase, shaking my head.
From the kitchen I hear Riley murmur, “He has no idea.”
And Mara whisper back, “Don’t ruin it.”
I pause halfway up the stairs. What exactly am I walking into?
Three years.
Three years since snow and storms and abandoned sheds. Three years since Lucian offered me freedom and I chose him instead. Three years of building something that didn’t exist before—something neither of us had a blueprint for.
The house feels different now.
Lighter.
Safer.
Lucian still runs the city. Still commands rooms full of men who would sell their own blood for territory. But at home… he laughs more. Sleeps deeper. Comes to bed without the smell of metal clinging to him most nights.
The elevator ride down that day—him stopping it just to kiss me—feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time.
I reach the master bedroom door and push it open casually.
Rose petals scatter across the hardwood floor. Red against dark wood. Soft candlelight flickers along the walls.
My breath catches.
Lucian stands near the center of the room. Black suit tailored perfectly to his frame. Crisp. Sharp. Devastating. There’s stubble along his jaw—intentional, I know him well enough to recognize it. Not unkempt. Just enough to soften the lines of his face in the way he knows I like.
He looks younger and older at the same time. Less haunted. More certain.
“Lucian,” I breathe.
He smiles at me.
Not the smirk.
The real one.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says.
I look down at the petals beneath my feet and laugh softly. “You shoot traitors and negotiate territory lines, but this is what you’re doing with your afternoon?”
He steps closer.
“For once,” he says, “I wanted something predictable.”
My heart begins to pound.
“You’re terrifying when you’re cryptic,” I say.
“I know.”
He drops to one knee. The world tilts. My breath leaves me in a rush.
Lucian Romano does not kneel.
For anyone.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small box.
Wrapped in a stupid red silk bow.
The ribbon is unmistakable.
I stare at it.
“You kept that?” I whisper.
His mouth curves faintly. “I thought it was symbolic.”
“Of what? Emotional trauma?”
He huffs softly. “Of beginnings.”
My throat tightens.
“I wanted to do at least one thing in order,” he says quietly.
The weight of that lands in my chest.
We did everything backwards.
Sex. Survival. Protection. Love.
So maybe—
This is the right place to start again.
“Lucian,” I say softly.
He holds the box out to me. “Open it,” he murmurs.
My hands tremble slightly as I take it.
The silk is smooth beneath my fingers. Familiar.
A silver band shines at me from the black box.
Not flashy but elegant. Diamonds embedded directly into the metal, subtle and deliberate, catching the candlelight like frost.
My vision blurs for a second.
“You said once,” he says quietly, “that if we were normal, we’d meet in a coffee shop.”
I laugh weakly through the sting behind my eyes.
“I remember.”
“If we were normal,” he continues, “I would’ve taken you on proper dates before saying I loved you.”
“You did fine,” I whisper.
He swallows.
“I don’t know how to be normal,” he admits. “But I do know how to love you.”
His voice steadies. “And I want to do that every day until I die.”
The room feels impossibly small and infinite at the same time.
“I have blood on my hands,” he continues. “I run a world that isn’t clean. But this—”
He gestures gently between us.
“This is.”
Tears spill before I can stop them.
“Elias,” he says softly, “will you marry me?”
The question hangs there.
Almost four years ago, I arrived here as leverage.
Now—
I’m being asked to stay forever.
“Yes,” I breathe immediately.
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for months.
“Yes,” I repeat, stronger now. “Of course yes.”
The relief that crosses his face is something I will never forget. He stands and slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly because of course it does.
His hands linger there for a moment, thumbs brushing against my skin like he’s grounding himself.
Then I pull him toward me and kiss him. His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground like he’s done a hundred times before, but this feels different.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine.
“Now,” he murmurs, voice low, almost reverent, “I’ll be yours. Always.”
I smile through tears.
“You already were.”
Outside, snow continues to fall. No storm this time. Just winter settling gently over a house that once felt like a prison and now feels like home.
Footsteps approach in the hallway—Mara’s unmistakable shuffle, Riley’s low voice trying and failing to pretend he isn’t listening.
Lucian laughs softly against my lips.
“We should probably tell them,” I say.
“In a moment,” he replies.
His hands frame my face again.
“I love you,” he says.
I grin.
“You’re still doing things out of order.”
He kisses me once more.
“I don’t think so,” he murmurs.
And for the first time in my life—
Everything feels exactly right.