Epilogue
Edmundo
Early June in Italy smelled like earth and sun and new growth.
The vineyards stretched endlessly beyond the manicured gardens, thick green vines heavy with promise, curling along trellises that had stood longer than most men’s lives.
La Tenuta dei Genovese rose behind us in pale stone and quiet power, its balconies draped in flowering ramblers while fountains murmured in the distance.
Everything was threaded in white lights and fresh flowers.
I stood with Lilya and Ana behind a tall hedge, just out of sight of the gathered guests. Friends and family filled the seats, happy murmurs filled the air and drifted on the breeze.
Lilya was radiant. There was simply no other word to use.
Not in the fragile, porcelain way brides were often described, but in something stronger.
She wore white, yes—but it wasn’t a gown meant for a church aisle.
The fabric flowed around her like it had been designed just for her and would follow her wherever she chose to go.
Barefoot on the grass, hair loose down her back, she looked like she belonged to the land itself. Like she’d lived here her whole life.
“You look so beautiful,” Ana said, tears already running down her face.
“Mum, don’t cry, you’re going to make me cry, too,” Lilya said.
“Okay, give me a hug, and I’ll go sit down.”
My heart was warm and full as I watched Ana and Lilya embrace. It was something that I had longed for but had given up hope long ago.
“I love you, and I couldn’t be prouder of the woman you’ve become,” Ana said.
“I love you, too,” Lilya said, blinking back her own tears.
Ana grabbed my hand and squeezed before she went to find our seats.
I turned to Lilya and was suddenly aware that this was one of those moments that men like me never talked about.
We always spoke about how we survived wars, bloodshed, and betrayal.
Or how much money we stood to make from our next deal.
But loving words to a daughter on the day you gave her away…
entrusted her to another…not a single word had I ever heard spoken.
It was moments like this that I deeply missed my parents and wished they could’ve been here to see Lilya on her wedding day. And to see that Ana and I had finally found our way.
“Your mother is right, you look…” I cleared my throat, then tried again. “You look extraordinary, figlia mia.”
She smiled at me, soft and emotional, and something tight eased in my chest.
“I’m proud of you,” I said quietly. “Not just for today. For everything. For surviving. For choosing your own path. For leading with your heart when it would have been easier to harden it.”
She reached for my hand and held it tight.
“How could I not, when I had you and Mum as my role models?”
That nearly undid me, but the signal came, saving me from the tears. Music drifted through the garden, gentle and warm. I offered her my arm, and together we stepped out from behind the hedge.
The guests turned, and a hush fell.
Ahead of us stood five men. Five kings in tailored suits, waiting with love written across their faces.
Nash stood at the center. His gaze locked on my daughter as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Beside him, Myles wore a smile that was equal parts joy and wonder.
Liam stood calm and steady, hands folded, eyes warm.
Theo looked ready to tackle the world with my daughter at his side.
Blake’s expression was open, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.
I walked Lilya forward and placed her hand into Nash’s.
He bowed his head to me, just slightly.
“Take care of her,” I said, nodding to each of them.
It had taken me time to understand their relationship, but what I’d come to realize was that it didn’t matter if I did. At the end of the day, the only thing that mattered was that Lilya was happy.
“With my life,” Nash replied, without hesitation. “With my life,” Liam, Myles, Theo, and Blake repeated.
I stepped back and took my seat beside Yuliana and Vicky.
I grabbed Vicky’s hand, and she looked at me, surprise showing in her eyes, but then gave me a soft smile.
She hadn’t done that much since her mother died.
Yuliana was already dabbing at her eyes, smiling through tears.
I hooked my arm on the back of her chair, and she leaned into me.
After everything—the lies, the losses, the years stolen from us—this moment felt like a miracle.
The officiant stepped forward, cords of white, red, and gold draped over their arm.
“We gather here today,” he said, voice carrying across the gardens. “Not to bind love that already exists, but to honor it. Handfasting is an ancient rite. It is a promise freely given, not owned. A vow made in trust, not fear.”
The officiant turned to Ren and the guys.
“Do you come here of your own will, to join your lives, your paths, and your futures?”
“We do,” they answered, voices overlapping.
One by one, the men made their vows.
Myles swallowed hard before speaking.
“Snowflake, ya make the world softer and brighter all at once. I promise to love ya with laughter, wi tenderness, and wit every piece of myself.”
Liam’s voice was unwavering.
“Ren, I vow to be your shelter and your mirror. To give you truth when you need it, and peace when all you yearn for is a steady hand and rest.”
Theo smiled at Ren, eyes bright.
“Ren, you have challenged me from the first day we met. I promise to choose you every day, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And I promise to push you to be the best, but allow you the safety to fail.”
Blake’s voice was quieter, but no less powerful.
“Ren…you saved me just by being yourself. I promise never to forget that love is something we build, not something we take. I vow to always honor you with my heart and soul open and to share even when it’s difficult.”
Nash went last.
“Princess…you are my home, my Queen, my everything,” he said simply. “I will protect you always and stand beside you for as long as I draw breath. For there is no me, without you.”
The officiant turned to Ren.
“Lilya Ren Genovese, it is your turn.”
She smiled, and strands of her white hair blew around her like the wind was giving her a blessing.
“I don’t stand here choosing between you. I stand here choosing us. Six different hearts, one life. You are my shelter and my fire, my calm and my chaos. With all of you, I don’t fear the future. I claim it. Whatever comes next, we face it together. I vow to love you always. I choose you.”
Yuliana squeezed my hand and offered me a tissue. I smiled as I took it and wiped away the tears that fell, no matter how hard I tried to stop them.
The cords were wrapped around their joined hands.
“As these hands are bound together,” the officiant said, “so too are your lives entwined. Not as chains, but as roots. What you give today is not ownership, but devotion.”
He tightened the knot gently.
“By earth that sustains you, by fire that strengthens you, by air that carries your vows, and by water that binds your souls—I pronounce you handfasted.”
The garden erupted in cheers.
Laughter, applause, and joy spilled into the open air as music swelled and the moment broke into celebration. Ren was pulled into a tangle of arms and kisses, happiness written into every line of her body.
I leaned back, Yuliana’s hand still in mine, and let myself breathe.
For the first time in a long time, the future did not feel like a battlefield.
It felt like legacy.
My daughter was loved, protected, and she had chosen the life she wanted, not the one forced upon her. She would lead with strength that had been forged in fire, not inherited.
Every loss had led here.
And for once, I believed—with absolute certainty—that it had all been worth it.
Paul
The reception was incredible and yet not overdone.
If I’d ever gotten married, this was what I would’ve wanted.
Ed was dancing with Ren, and my heart warmed at the two of them together.
As the song picked up, Yuli joined them.
And as happy as I was, I couldn’t help feeling that old tug in the middle of my chest.
The love I could never have and never admit out loud. I stared at Yuli, and as if she had sensed me, she looked over and waved. I gave her a little nod and raised my glass, even as my heart pounded harder.
Theirs was a storybook love, and I would forever be the one protecting them—my best friend and the woman who owned my heart.
I swallowed down the longing and turned to order another drink from the bar.
“Hey, you having a good time,” Chantry asked, stepping up beside me.
“I am…and you,” I asked my top initiate.
“Free trip to Italy to relax for a change…oh yeah,” she said, and knocked back a shot.
“You think you can hold your cover for one more junior and senior year?”
“The cruelty of beauty and youthfulness,” she said, with a sigh and looked at me with a bit of sadness in her eyes.
She was supposed to get close, but never too close. Having lifelong friends as a member of the Curators was nearly impossible.
Chantry was twenty-four, highly trained, and a lethal assassin and spy for the Curators.
She’d been pretending to transfer to Wayward, repeating her junior and senior years, since she had graduated six years ago as one of my senior initiates.
Everyone thought that cameras were hidden in every corner.
The truth…half the students enrolled were Curators in training.
They lived among those who believed us to be boogeymen as they perfected their covers, reported on everything and waited to be activated and sent out into the world.
“I have to say these classes are really starting to get boring,” she said with a dramatic huff, tilting her head back and looking up at the night sky. “But I suppose that I can handle two more years. Then…I want some real action.”
I smirked. She’d always been one of the most keen and fearless of those I’d trained.
Looking around, she stepped closer and ran her finger along my hand. I cocked my brow at her.
“I can think of a way to spice up my time.”
“Is that so?”
“We’re both adults, what does it matter,” Chantry asked, and bit her lip.
“I’m your superior, Chantry. You know that’s not possible,” I said, moving my hand so she was no longer touching me.
She groaned but gave up and turned to lean against the bar, watching everyone else having fun.
“Go dance and have a good night. There are dozens of guys staring at you. Use one of them to…unwind.”
“Fine, but one of these days…I will wear you down,” Chantry said with a smile, slipping back into the party.
If only it were that easy.
Finishing my drink, I gave the Genovese family one last lingering look and then disappeared into the shadows. I had another mission to take care of tonight—a Curator’s work was never done.