Epilogue Four
………………………….
Peter
Another couple of years later…
“OH MY GOD. LOOK!” LUCY dashed toward the quaint bookshop as we strolled through central London. Her bright red hair shone like fire in the late afternoon sunshine. Her luscious curves bundled in thick winter woollies.
We’d caught the tube to the city for the weekend. Scoping out the local pubs for ideas and menu additions.
Ever since I’d purchased the rambling two-hundred-year-old pub off her father, Lucy had agreed to help me run it even though she’d been studying to go into hotel management. I’d said…why not do both?
We had the space.
The time.
The drive.
She’d come up with the great idea to renovate the unused attic into cute bedrooms instead of building an addition. Together, we’d turned a breaking-even business into a tidy money earner.
It also helped that Henri had deposited five million euros into my bank account.
He hadn’t even asked.
He’d just enlisted Ben to hack into my system and boom...
I woke up a millionaire.
I’d tried to give it back, but he’d towered over me, and for a second, I saw him as Master H and not as my best friend. The triggers didn’t often catch me unawares these days. The hauntings of all those we’d lost remembered with fondness instead of grief. We’d held a funeral for all those who’d died and those who’d survived stayed in touch in the group chat.
Four years had passed since we’d gotten free, but…every now and again, a man would look at me a little too intently or a certain word would make me flinch.
Thanks to the many scars on my body, Lucy had asked what’d happened when she first saw me naked.
I believed Ily told her a fair bit each time we went to stay with them, but I’d chosen my secrets carefully.
I loved this woman.
I’d married this woman last year in a garden ceremony with my parents and extended family who’d flown in from Jaipur. I hadn’t intended to stay in England, but…I wanted to stay close to my folks.
Five and a half years of torture had made me appreciate the small things in life. The important things. The everyday things.
And family? That was priceless.
“Well, fuck me.” I chuckled, peering through the window. “He actually did it. He told me it wasn’t coming out till next year, the sneaky bastard.”
Lucy grabbed my hand and tugged me into the shop. The discomfort from being shot and losing the function of my arm for a time was barely a twinge these days. Rehab and physical therapy had ensured I’d gained my strength back.
I’d also found a new love in life—cooking in the ancient kitchen and feeding all walks of life that visited our pub.
The little bell chimed as we traded freezing winter streets for cosy musty pages.
Snatching a hardback from the central table, she flickered through the pages. The cover gave nothing away. A simple white background with a single lump of black coal transforming into a sparkling diamond on the front.
I stiffened as her eyes skimmed whatever Henri had written.
He hadn’t let me read it. He had said he’d marketed it as fiction, but still…
I had no idea if he’d written about what’d happened on Victor’s godforsaken island. Had he listed what we’d endured? What I’d endured? Would Lucy be able to guess which character was me?
Stepping toward her, I balled my hands.
I’d kept most of what’d happened to myself because I had no intention of letting my wife see me as the slave I’d been instead of the man I’d crawled my way back to.
It didn’t matter that some nights I woke to her kissing away my sweat as I fell back into the horrors that haunted me. It didn’t matter that there were parts of my body that she couldn’t touch.
My lower back.
My ass.
Both of those places sent me into black memories where I didn’t trust myself not to hurt her if she pushed it.
She’d accepted my boundaries.
She’d cried over the secrets I did share.
And I’d healed the longer she loved me.
Ily had been right that I would meet someone else. Someone who I’d love in a completely different way to the way I loved her. Ilyana Sharma—now Ilyana Mercer—had embodied every dream and hope I’d struggled to keep alive on that island. She’d been a fucking angel to me. The goddess I needed to worship if only she would get me free.
But…in the real world?
Back in society where I didn’t have to beg or be buggered to stay alive? I saw that love for what it truly was.
Gratefulness.
Connection.
I loved Ily like a sister. I adored her as my friend. But Lucy? I fucking loved her like she was my person.
My other half.
My missing piece.
I got it now.
I got why Henri looked at Ily with such wonder in his eyes. Why he gravitated toward her even when they sat so close on the couch.
Ily held a piece of his soul.
Henri held a piece of hers.
And somehow, I was lucky enough to share Lucy’s.
“Goodness, it’s pretty gruesome.” Lucy wrinkled her freckled nose. “I thought you said he wrote a romance.”
I burst out laughing. “What? No way. I’m pretty sure this is the handbook on how to kill a trafficker.” Grabbing my own copy, I skimmed the first part.
I stiffened.
So he had written about Joyero.
Fuck.
“We should buy a copy.” Lucy hugged the thick book to her chest. “I like the title. The Curse of Blood and Darkness . I bet it does have romance. He has to mention Ily, surely. He’s not whole without her.”
I nodded along, not really listening, my heart pounding.
Don’t. Please don’t have written about—
I froze as my fingers slipped. The pages fanned back to the first one, leaving the dedication exposed.
To every jewel who survived the pressures of being formed in hell.
This book isn’t for you.
It’s for all those who didn’t know.
For those who think diamonds are pure when we know they’re nothing but blood and darkness.
Nothing on earth is as strong.
Nothing cuts as sharply.
That is what you are now.
You’re a diamond that didn’t shatter.
Flicking to the next page, a smile touched my lips.
A second dedication made all my worries vanish.
If you’re reading this book and clutching your pearls at the graphicness…then you should be grateful that it is fiction. If you’re reading this book and find yourself reaching for a gun…then be aware that it is fact. Monsters surround us. This is how to destroy them. From one beast to another…happy hunting.
“We’ll buy all of them.” I grinned at Lucy.
The shopkeeper overheard me, staggering with his arms full of books. “Wait… all of them?”
“It’s going to be a bestseller, don’t you know?” I chuckled.
Fishing my phone from my pocket, I snapped a picture of Lucy hugging the table of Henri’s confessions. I would read it. I would be brave enough to face Lucy if she figured out which character was me, and I would remember all those we had lost.
Henri was right.
Someone had to tell our story.
Because to everyone else, it had never happened.
To those who’d lived a safe and sheltered life, what happened to us would be utter nonsense and far-fetched fiction.
But to those who’d endured just a touch of darkness, they would see the truth for what it was.
It was real.
It was happening.
And thanks to Henri and his brother, there were far less monsters prowling around in the daylight.
PETE AKA ‘THE GOOD GUY’: Picture incoming. Found in the wild. Your book. You better have made me a hero, mate. Otherwise, I’m coming for your royalties .
It didn’t take long for him to reply.
HENRI AKA ‘THE BAD GUY’: I only told what needed to be told, nothing more. I hope you can trust me and forgive me if necessary.
PETE AKA ‘THE GOOD GUY’: I already trust you, and you don’t have to ask for my forgiveness. I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I might have stopped you but I’m happy you did it. Happy people will know.
HENRI AKA ‘THE BAD GUY’: In that case, fly in this weekend. Ily is driving me nuts with her cravings for your saffron butter roasted potato skins. You need to get them off your menu in the pub. You’re creating crack addicts.
I laughed as Lucy carried armful after armful of Henri’s book to the counter.
PETE AKA ‘THE GOOD GUY’: You know that means she’s having another girl, right? Salt for daughters. Sugar for sons. Sucks to be you.
He shot back a photo of Ily waving from where she sat bundled on the couch in their gatehouse. One of Q’s hounds snuggled beside her with Priti fast asleep on her lap. Her belly looked huge even with the kid, dog, and blanket.
HENRI AKA ‘THE BAD GUY’: Pretty sure I died back on that island, and I’ve been in heaven ever since.
PETE AKA ‘THE GOOD GUY’: Pretty sure I did too.
Lowering my phone, I caught Lucy’s green eyes. With a soft smile, she stepped into me and pressed the softest kiss to my lips. “What?” She smiled. “You’ve got that look again. The one where I don’t know if I’m going to be dragged into the bedroom or you’re going to propose again.”
Grabbing her, I returned her kiss. “I love you, Lucy Chauhan.”
“We’re in a bookstore.”
“Don’t care.”
“Well, okay then…” She giggled and pressed me against the table holding Henri’s book. “I’m open to a bit of exhibitionism. Where do you want me? Here or in the stacks?”
I laughed.
Henri’s words might shed light on the pain so many were enduring.
But right now?
For me?
I was free.
Thank you so much for reading Henri and Ily (and Peter’s) tale.
I can’t thank you enough and hope you liked it!