Chapter 91
MASON
TWO WEEKS LATER
The mare doesn't flinch when Lily approaches.
I watch from the fence line as Lily moves into the corral, her steps careful. The mare, so skittish before, lifts her head and takes a tentative step forward. Then another.
"That's it," Lily murmurs, her hand extended. "You're safe here."
The mare nuzzles her palm, and something in my chest loosens.
Two weeks since the warehouse. Two weeks since Turner proved he's still out there, still watching. But standing here in the morning light with Lily safe and whole in front of me, I can almost believe we've earned this moment of peace.
"She still needs a name," Lily says without turning around.
I push off the fence and walk toward them. The mare's ears flick toward me but she doesn't retreat. Progress. "What are you thinking?"
Lily's hand moves to the mare's neck, stroking gently. "Something strong. Something that means she’s going to thrive despite where she came from."
I think about that—about survival, about what it costs and what it gives back. About the woman standing beside me who walked into hell and came out the other side.
It’s obvious what the mare’s name should be. "Wildflower.”
Lily looks up at me, her brow furrowed. "Why Wildflower?"
I run a hand down her back, settling on her waist. “Because some things bloom where they were never supposed to.”
My girl’s eyes go soft. “I like it.”
The mare snorts and shakes her mane like she's agreeing.
Smiling, Lily murmurs to Wildflower. I watch my girls, a feeling of peace I’ve never known expanding in my chest.
Behind us, the sound of voices carries from the main house. Jake's low rumble, Emma's laugh, Luke's teasing drawl. The found family we've built here at Blackthorn—imperfect, scarred, but ours.
"Emma wants to know if we're coming to dinner," Lily says, pulling her phone from her pocket. "She's making pot roast."
"Tell her yes."
Lily types out a response, then slides the phone away and turns to face me fully. "You okay?"
It's a question she asks me now—checking in, making sure I'm not disappearing into my head the way I used to. The way I did before her.
"Yeah," I say, and mean it. "I'm good."
She steps closer, her hand finding mine. "Turner's still out there."
"I know."
"He's not done with us."
I nod somberly. "I know that too."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "But we're ready for him."
Not a question. A statement of fact.
I pull her against me, my arms wrapping around her waist. She fits perfectly—always has. "We're ready," I confirm. "And when he comes, we'll be waiting."
She tilts her head back to look at me, and I see everything I need in her eyes. Trust. Love. The absolute certainty that we're in this together.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you too, Lily girl."
Wildflower whinnies softly behind us, and Lily laughs—a real laugh, the kind I didn't think I'd ever hear from her when we first met. “I’ve been thinking,” she says now.
“Do I need to duck for cover?”
She swats my shoulder playfully. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. A cover up.”
Taking her hand, I raise it to kiss the inside of her wrist. “Anything as long as it’s not Luke’s portrait.”
She snorts. “Actually I didn’t know what I’d want until this moment. I want wildflowers.”
“I like it.” I kiss her wrist again. “But it’ll have to be a woman tattoo artist.”
“Caveman.” She rolls her eyes, but she grins. Then she gets up on her toes and kisses me.
I slide my hand around the back of her neck, holding her there for one more kiss because I can. When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
"Come on," I say, my hand finding hers. "Let's go home."