Epilogue
Valentina
Three Years Later
Aurora shrieks with laughter, her chubby legs pumping as she toddles across the rooftop backyard like she's training for a marathon she has every intention of finishing. Sunlight bounces off her dark curls, and the tiny red bow clipped into them wobbles with every excited step.
"She's getting faster," Brax mutters beside me, narrowing his eyes like our daughter's a fugitive he's tracking. "She wasn't that fast yesterday."
"She turned two today. Maybe she's embracing her power," I tease, adjusting the floral sash on my dress.
He grumbles, "She already embraces her power. She tells me no fifty times a day with confidence."
"And you pretend you hate it."
He slides me a dark, narrowed stare that vibrates through my chest. "I never said I hated it."
I bite back a smile and rest a hand over my rounded stomach.
Our son, Finn, kicks in response, as if chiming in to say he's part of this circus, too.
"Is the little guy beating you up again?" Brax asks, with pride in his voice.
"Yep," I chirp.
Aurora swings around and spots us again. Her face splits into a giant grin, reminding me of my mother, who she’s named after. She squeals, "Ma-ma! Da-da!"
Brax instinctively moves toward her.
She launches into a tiny jump over absolutely nothing, lands on her bottom with an oof, and freezes. She looks at Brax.
He gives her a funny face.
She laughs.
I relax, glad she's not crying.
Brax drags a hand down his face. "She's going to give me a heart condition."
"She's two."
"She's reckless."
"She's your daughter," I shoot back.
He throws me a lethal, amused glare. "And your clone. Double the danger."
He's not wrong.
Our home is full today. Balloons, streamers, and signs decorate the rooftop.
A table's piled high with cupcakes and our family's everywhere.
Zara rocks her newborn daughter, Sloane, in a soft wrap, while the twins sit on Sean's lap, shoving blueberries into their mouths with alarming enthusiasm.
Fiona's chasing her toddler son, Zavier, who's inherited his father's impossible speed and grin. Kirill's egging him on to run faster.
Uncle Luca and Finn stand next to the grill, flipping burgers. Three years ago, I couldn't have imagined either of them here, smiling freely, wearing matching aprons that say WORLD'S BEST GRANDPA in bold print.
They're both here almost every week, dropping off pastries, reading Aurora bedtime stories, and making sure we never forget we have family.
Everything is better than anything I imagined was possible. I watch my daughter wobble back to her feet, brushing grass off her sundress. It's the one with tiny red flowers that Brax insisted she needed so "she matches her mama."
She gets halfway upright before beelining straight toward me. Her cheeks are pink, her curls wild, her arms outstretched. She shrieks, "Mamaaaa!"
I crouch, or attempt to, because my stomach is far too present to allow anything graceful. She crashes into my legs with the full force of a two-year-old missile. I laugh and scoop her up, kissing her forehead. "There you are, birthday girl."
She pats my cheeks with cake-sticky hands. "Boom."
I laugh, repeating, "Boom," which is her newest word.
Brax reaches us, plucks Aurora out of my arms, swings her once, then settles her against his hip. He asks her, "You running the neighborhood yet, princess?"
She nods solemnly, curls bobbing. "Yes!"
He kisses my cheek, lingering longer than necessary and with zero shame. "You good?"
"You ask me that every twenty minutes," I tease.
He huffs. "You're eight months pregnant and stubborn. Can't be too careful."
"I'm fine."
He slides a hand over my belly, thumb brushing the curve of it. "Finn's kicking like he's trying to escape."
I smirk, "He gets that from you."
"Kid's probably already planning an empire," Brax states.
"Don't give him ideas," I warn.
Aurora wiggles in Brax's arms, pointing wildly. "Cupcake."
I groan. "We shouldn't have given her one before lunch."
"After presents," Brax reminds her.
Her eyes widen, then she shouts at full volume, "Presents!"
Half our guests jump.
Sean groans, clutching his chest. "Why does she scream like that?"
"Genetics," Zara sings, rocking her baby.
Brax smirks. "Must be the Marino in her."
I elbow him. "Excuse you?"
"You heard me."
I shoot him a warning look but can't stop my smile.
He steals a kiss before Aurora shrieks "Boom!" then laughs.
"We need a dark corner," Brax murmurs in my ear.
My cheeks flush. No matter how much time goes by, my husband's desire for me doesn't fade. Nor does mine for him.
Throughout the party, Brax sends me looks, and a few times mouths, "dark corner." It only makes my hormones grow wilder.
Once the presents have been torn open, the meltdown over a missing toy is narrowly avoided, and the cake has been devoured by children and aggressively taste-tested by adults, Brax wraps his arms around my waist and guides me to the edge of the roof.
The sun dips lower, bathing the artificial grass in gold.
Aurora is in the middle of the lawn, spinning in circles until she collapses in giggles. Luca and Sean cheer her on like she's competing.
Brax murmurs against my ear, "Three damn years, Minx."
I rest a hand over his. "You're getting sentimental."
"I blame you." His voice drops, warm and rough, the sound that always sinks into my spine. "I never imagined life like this."
"Neither did I."
"Do you miss it?" he asks.
"What?"
"The Underworld," he answers.
It's a bomb. We haven't mentioned it in over a year.
I consider the question. The old world is still there, but it's silent and dormant, a true ghost without claws.
Membership only exists now. There are no rituals, punishments, or meetings in shadowed chambers.
There're only names on lists that Kirill keeps locked away.
I shake my head. "Not in the least."
He presses his lips to my temple. "Good."
"Don't tell me you suddenly developed a love for them?" I tease.
He scoffs, "The only thing I miss is hacking their systems for fun."
"You still hack their systems."
He grins. "Only to make sure they're not stupid enough to rise again."
"And if they do?" I fret, and old worries wake up inside my gut.
His arms tighten around me. "They won't. Kirill sends out too many reminders to stay quiet until it's safe to reconvene."
But it's not temporary. We all know it, but they don't. The Underworld can't resurrect itself. And none of us will allow it to even try.
So for now, they obey, unaware they're submitting to extinction.
Brax shifts. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw. "You happy, Minx?"
I don't hesitate. "More than I ever thought I could be."
His arrogant grin floods his expression. "Good. Because I'm not done with you."
I arch a brow. "You never are."
He smirks. "And I never will be."
A shriek cuts through the yard. "Da-da!"
Aurora barrels toward us at top speed, half toddler, half demolition crew. Brax turns just in time to scoop her up before she slams into me.
She launches her tiny arms around his neck. "Da-da, I fall down!"
He kisses her cheek. "Did the ground survive?"
She nods, then beams. "I win." She puts her arms in the air.
He chuckles. "Yes, you did."
She gasps suddenly, eyes swelling wide. She reaches for my stomach. "Finn!"
I laugh softly. Finn's foot presses so hard against my stomach you can see it. I say, "He's saying hi."
She presses both hands to my belly, awe on her face. "Hi, Finn. I wuv you."
Brax's arm slides around my shoulders as our daughter whispers secrets to her unborn brother.
Sunlight glows across her curls. The breeze carries the sound of Luca laughing, Zara humming to her baby, Fiona telling Kirill to stop trying to inseminate her with his stare, and River and Willow bouncing around from too much sugar.
For the first time in my life, my world isn't divided between loyalty and survival.
It's whole, warm, and full of light.
Brax kisses the top of my head. He murmurs, "Happy birthday to our girl."
"And happy everything to us," I answer.
Aurora presses her cheek to my belly. "We fam'ly."
I stroke her curls. "Yes, baby. We're family."
Not the one I was born into. The one I built. The one who chose me. The one I choose every day.
Brax leans in, his voice a low promise meant for only me. "I'm still going to find a dark corner."
I inhale. "You're impossible."
"You love it."
I look at him coyly. "You know I do."
His grin turns wicked.
Aurora wiggles again. "Cake more?"
Brax sighs, defeated by a two-year-old. "No, princess. No more cake today."
"Yes!"
"No."
She wriggles out of his arms and sprints toward the cake table.
He groans. "I said no, Aurora!" He chases after her, grabbing her before she gets to the table.
Our daughter shrieks with joy and our son kicks harder against my belly. As Brax hauls Aurora back, muttering threats he'll never enforce, I realize this is exactly the kind of chaos meant to be ours.
Thank you so much for reading Bride By Ritual!