Epilogue
Declan
T he sun sets over the estate, castingagolden glow
on the garden where Viviana and I are exchanging vows
again.
Only my brothers and the main families are here. It’s a small, intimate gathering. Exactly one year has passed since our first wedding. I stand in my tailored black suit, with Kian and Connor at my side. Viviana asked me not to turn around until the music starts. Unlike our first wedding, she organized everything this time. I’d bet my life she’s walking down the aisle to some rock song, and honestly, I’m all in for it.
From the corner of my eye, I see Kian shifting. His grin widens as his gaze flicks to mine, and I know she’s coming. Connor glances at me, then back at her, running a hand through his hair. I tense up, rolling my shoulders, trying to steady myself.
There’s a long pause, and then it begins—the intro to Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. I fucking knew it. I take a deep breath and turn.
I can’t stop the smirk from curling my lips. Fucking hell, firecracker. She walks down the aisle in a princess-style gown, black as midnight, with a stunning corset that makes her waist look tiny and her breasts perfectly round. Even the flowers in her bouquet are black.
This time, it’s not only Selma by her side; Carlos, her father, holds her arm. Days after telling Viviana who her birth father was, she invited him to the estate, and he’s been a constant presence in her life—and ours. Even though I kicked his ass that day, we actually got along well.
I shake my head and reach for her hand, Carlos clapping me on the back. She smiles, and I lean closer to her ear. “Fuck, my black widow, you look stunning,” I murmur, my voice low, just for her.
Her smile widens. “You look amazing, Mister Callaghan,” she whispers, and I swear my cock twitches. She knows exactly what that name does to me. Little brat.
The priest starts speaking, but I couldn’t care less. My eyes are locked on her—her pale skin, sharp cat-eye makeup, bold red lipstick. Beautiful. Dangerous.
This time, there’s no contract. No Consortium. No drama hanging over us. Just love. Pure, raw, overwhelming love.
Her sister Silvana was sent to Italy to be with Bruna, I didn’t let her take anything but the clothes she was wearing and a plane ticket. Now they are working at some farm. She is lucky I let her live but I promised Viviana.
The priest finally gets to the important part.
My hand grips hers, strong and steady, as I slide the new ring onto her finger. “Forever, firecracker,” I whisper.
My chest tightens, and my throat burns, waiting for her response.
“Forever, Declan,” she finally says, her voice soft.
Cheers erupt around us, loud and wild. Connor raises her bouquet in celebration, and Kian lets out a sharp whistle. I pull Viviana into my arms, tilting her back as my lips crash onto hers. For a moment, the rest of the world disappears. My kiss is possessive and controlling, yet overflowing with the love I feel for her.
We head to the tent in the middle of the garden. It’s beautiful—white, with candles everywhere, black-and-white linens, various tables laden with food, and two bars stocked with Guinness and whiskey. I laugh, shaking my head.
“Two bars?” I raise an eyebrow, locking eyes with her.
She shrugs. “I heard the Irish Consortium men drink like hell,” she says, amusement dancing in her voice, making me smile.
“It’s not just the men, firecrackers,” I joke.
She looks different tonight—truly happy. There’s a light in her eyes, and her smile is plastered on her face the entire time, like a masterpiece frozen in time.
She runs off to Selma; the two of them have been spending a lot of time together, and it’s been good for her.
Viviana works as a freelance web designer now, and she’s brilliant at it. She mostly works from home but spends a couple of days a month at the penthouse for meetings.
Connor usually goes with her. I try to give her space, but she knows there’s only so much I can allow without compromising her security. Connor and two of our best men are always with her when she’s in town.
At the estate, though, she’s free to roam as she pleases. She loves the lake, so I built her a natural swimming pool on the property where she’s safe.
Alek is dead and buried, but his cousin is still out there. It’s been a year, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. Last time, the Dark Wars went quiet for years before the attacks started again. I’m not taking any chances, especially after our conversation last week about having kids. We’ll wait another year or two. That gives me time to make some changes to the estate… make it baby-proof.
“Beautiful wedding, mate,” Flynn’s voice cuts through my thoughts as I lean against the bar with a whiskey in hand.
“Thanks, brother.” I raise my glass in acknowledgment.
Flynn stands next to me, unusually quiet. And if there’s one thing Flynn isn’t, it’s quiet. So, I followed his gaze to a girl. A nerdy-looking girl with glasses, dressed in a black-and-white suit, sitting at a computer. I grin.
“Didn’t think you were the nerdy type,” I say, taking another sip.
Flynn’s lips twitch at the corners.
“I’m not,” he mutters, taking a swig of his Guinness. “Just looking.”
“Right.” I snort. “You’ll break her in two, mate.”
He throws me his signature grin. “And that’s always fun.” His eyes snap back to her. “Who is she?”
Before I can answer, Viviana slips next to me, her arm curling around mine. “Autumn,” she says, amusement dancing in her voice.
Flynn snaps his head to her. “Wait… Autumn?” He snorts. “Who the fuck names their kid Autumn?”
“Hey!” Viviana smacks his arm. “I love that name!”
Flynn raises his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine.” He turns back to the girl.
“I met her when I needed photos for a company. They wanted them for their website. She’s an incredible photographer,” Viviana continues, her fiery eyes locked on Flynn.
“Photographer, huh?” Flynn repeats, and I see that look in his eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, Flynn,” I groan, throwing my hands up. “A girl like her with a primal arsehole like you?”
Shit.
I freeze, feeling Flynn flinch beside me as Viviana’s eyes open wide like a lighthouse. Her mouth drops open in a perfect “oh.”
“Primal?” she says in shock.
I turn to the bar, letting Flynn deal with this mess. He hits me in the arm.
“Thanks a lot,” he grunts. “Well…” He scratches his head. “Declan is dominant—”
“Oh no.” Viviana cuts him off, her curiosity burning bright. “Don’t make this about him. You’re into primal… stuff?”
“Do you even know what that is, firecracker?” I ask, trying to divert her attention.
“Yes, well… kind of…” But her eyes are still locked on Flynn. “You hunt, right? Follow more… feral… way of…” She trails off, her mind racing.
I burst out laughing at the sight of Flynn staring at her, utterly lost for words.
“Yeah, something like that,” he finally mutters.
She glances at Autumn, then back at Flynn. “She doesn’t look like the type who’d want to be pursued in the dark woods by you,” she snorts.
Flynn looks as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen him. He’d probably rather be chopping someone’s head off than having this conversation, but Viviana doesn’t care.
“You never know,” I interject, grinning. “You hated my guts.”
Viviana narrows her eyes at me, and I know when to keep my mouth shut. Flynn can fight his own battles.
“I’m not thinking of chasing her,” Flynn says, but his tone betrays him. That feral glint in his eyes says he’d love nothing more than to pursue her and throw her to the ground.
Viviana gives him one last look before Selma calls her over. She laughs, her beautiful dress sweeping the grass as she walks away.
“Thanks for that, fucking arsehole,” Flynn mutters.
“Sorry, mate,” I say with a grin. “It slipped.”
Flynn and I used to frequent a kink club when we were younger, back before we became the heads of our families. I’ve always enjoyed the control, the dominance. It’s a part of me I’ve kept. But Flynn… he’s darker. I know he left that world behind over a decade ago.
But the way he’s looking at that girl Autumn now… She’s the opposite of the women we’re usually surrounded by. There’s no fire, no fear, no shadows in her eyes. Just sweetness, professionalism, and quiet happiness.
“You’re fucked,” I tell him, my voice dropping an octave.
“I know,” he mutters, raising his glass, his gaze like daggers on her.
Fuck.
THE END