Chapter 27
Later that evening, the house was quiet, golden light spilling across the hardwood floors as the sun sank low.
Marigold padded barefoot through the living room, carrying two glasses of wine.
Gavin had built a fire, even though the night was mild, the flames casting a warm glow that softened the hard lines of his face.
He took the glass she offered, his fingers brushing hers deliberately, sending a shiver through her.
“To us,” he said, clinking his glass gently against hers.
“To us,” she echoed, smiling.
They curled together on the couch, Gavin’s arm heavy around her shoulders, her head tucked into his chest. For a while, they simply watched the flames dance.
The quiet felt like a gift after so much upheaval.
The ambush, Blossom’s transformation, the tense call with Robert and Rowan, and the looming threats Sam had laid out were all still on Gavin’s mind, but here, in this moment, all of that felt far away.
“You know,” Gavin murmured, his lips brushing her hair, “when I first saw you, I knew you were mine. But I didn’t realize just how much you’d change my life.”
Marigold tipped her head back to look at him, surprised. “Me? You’ve given me a family. A clan. Safety. Love. You changed everything for me, Gavin. Every last thing. You’ve made my life so much better.”
His eyes darkened, the firelight catching in their depths. “You were never meant to be a pawn, Goldie. You were meant to shine. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”
Emotion clogged her throat, but she pushed past it, needing him to hear the truth. “I thought love was something I would never have. That I was too broken, too tainted by where I came from. But with you, I feel whole.”
Gavin set aside both their glasses and pulled her into his lap, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, a promise sealed in firelight. When they finally drew apart, he pressed his forehead to hers, his voice a rough whisper.
“Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she breathed, her hands fisting in his shirt. “Now and always.”
His answering growl vibrated against her lips, but it melted into a smile as he kissed her again, slower this time, reverent.
Outside, the world carried on with its dangers and unfinished wars. But here, wrapped in Gavin’s arms, Marigold knew the truth that mattered most.
She wasn’t a pawn. She wasn’t alone.
She was loved.
And that was the beginning of everything.
*
The main Rollins estate was eerily quiet without the oppressive presence of Jeremiah. For years, the mansion had been a place of fear, cruelty, and ambition. Every room and hallway had been heavy with whispered threats and cold calculations.
Now, as Gavin’s SUV crunched up the long gravel drive, Marigold felt the tension in her chest tighten.
He reached across the console and laced his fingers through hers, grounding her.
She really didn’t want to be here, but she knew she had to do this.
She had to get past this so she could get on with her new life with Gavin.
Facing down the past was the only way for her to overcome it and move on to something much, much greater.
Inside the ostentatious building, the grand hall smelled of polish and old wood, but the air felt different than it had before. It felt lighter somehow as Marigold and Gavin followed the sounds of voices down a corridor to the drawing room.
The plan for today was two-fold. They were reuniting Blossom with her parents, and then, Marigold was going to give Gavin a tour of her prison and the few rooms she’d been allowed to be in from time to time in the rest of the house.
Blossom walked with them, her steps getting faster as they neared the drawing room.
When they reached the threshold, Marigold saw Letitia and Sebastian, who looked shockingly fragile compared to the formidable figures Marigold remembered.
Their power had been stripped away, leaving behind only regret and a tentative tenderness.
When Blossom saw them, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around her mother and father.
Marigold braced, expecting the usual rejection shown to offspring who tried to be too clingy, but it didn’t happen.
The embrace Letitia gave her daughter might have been a little awkward, but it was a true embrace.
Sebastian’s arms came around them from the other side, also a bit awkwardly, but there were tears of joy shining in his eyes when he looked up at Marigold and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” Blossom was saying as she wept in her parents’ arms. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it.”
Letitia stroked her daughter’s hair, her own eyes brimming. Sebastian’s hand trembled where it rested on Blossom’s shoulder.
“We’re sorry too,” he said roughly. “We should’ve been better parents to you. We should have questioned the Patriarch’s orders when it came to our only child.”
Marigold stood back with Gavin, watching the broken family cling to one another. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was real. A seed of something new, fragile and uncertain, but possible.
After a few moments, Marigold touched Gavin’s arm. “There’s something I want to show you.”
He followed her through familiar hallways, his presence a solid weight at her back as she led him toward the forgotten wing where she’d once been kept. Her heart thudded with each step.
In the small room at the end of the hall, she stopped. The cot was gone, but the cold stone walls remained the same. She knelt near the fireplace, pressing her fingers against a loose brick. With a gentle tug, it shifted, revealing the hollow space behind.
She reached inside and pulled out a bundle wrapped in faded cloth. When she unwrapped it, a patched little doll lay in her hands, its fabric body worn thin, its button eyes dull.
“This is mine,” she whispered, her throat thick. “The only thing I have left of my parents. My family. I used to hide it here, so no one could take it away.”
Gavin crouched beside her, brushing his thumb gently over the doll’s tattered dress. His gaze lifted to hers, fierce and tender all at once. “You don’t have to hide anymore, Goldie. Not this, not yourself. Ever again.”
Her chest swelled, and she leaned into him, clutching the small doll between them, as if sealing it into their bond. Then she rose and gestured to the room around them.
“This is where I was kept,” she said softly. “For years. I thought these walls would always define me.”
Gavin cupped her face, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. “They don’t. You’re free to live now, Goldie. Free to be you. Free to be my mate. For now, and for always.”
Her tears broke into a smile as he kissed her, slow and sure, banishing the shadows with the simple truth of his love. Standing in that place that had once imprisoned her, Marigold felt utterly free.