Epilogue
Nuala
Nerves hit my stomach hard. The floaty white dress I picked out is ethereal, angelic even, and now I’m regretting this choice. What will Logan think?
I smooth the fabric over my hips. The silk feels cool against my palms. It drags on the floor. I check my reflection. I don’t look like a killer’s daughter. I don’t look like a woman who watched a man die in a shipping container. I look soft. Vulnerable.
The heavy door opens behind me. I spin around.
“Pretty,” Lisa says. “You ready?”
“No,” I say with a snort. “But I guess there’s no backing out now.”
She stares at my bare feet. “Shoes?”
I shake my head and stare out of the window of the room I stayed in last night at Connor’s estate.
The day is sunny, but cold. I’m going to freeze, but this has to be the way I want it.
“How far is it?” Lisa asks.
“About ten minutes. We should go.”
She nods, and we leave the bedroom. She is dressed in blue and looks stunning. “You okay?” I ask her, looking at her wrist.
“This?” she holds up her arm. “Yeah, hazard of the job, right?”
“He feels bad.”
She laughs. “He shouldn’t. He did what he had to do.”
We descend the grand staircase. Connor waits at the bottom, looking even more elegant and terrifying in his formal suit.
“Ms. Quinn,” Connor says, his voice formal. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” I clutch the small bouquet of white roses that Lisa hands me. “Is he there already?”
Connor nods. “You are a remarkable woman for doing this. He appreciates it more than he will tell you.”
I lower my gaze, the lump in my throat larger than I would like.
A midnight blue Rolls Royce waits outside. Connor holds the door open for me, and I slide into the back seat. Lisa climbs in beside me, and Connor drives, to my surprise. As we pull away from the estate, I watch the mansion disappear in the side mirror.
“You sure about this location?” Lisa asks quietly.
“Positive.” I twist the diamond ring on my finger.
“And you’re okay with getting married there?”
“Perfectly on brand,” I say with a soft giggle.
Lisa snorts. “Fair point.”
The drive passes in silence. I watch Dublin roll by through the tinted windows. The city looks different now. Less threatening. Or maybe I’m just different. Harder. More capable of surviving its darkness.
We turn into Glasnevin Cemetery. The gates are open, waiting for us. Connor navigates the winding paths between headstones until we reach the site of Chris’s grave. He parks near a cluster of ancient oak trees.
“We walk from here,” I say.
I step out of the vehicle. The grass is damp from morning dew. It soaks the hem of my dress immediately. The cold earth beneath my bare feet grounds me. This is real. This is happening.
Lisa walks beside me in her flats. She sees now why I insisted. It is a strange relationship we have. I’m still unsure about it, but she is all I’ve got. Mum… just wasn’t interested. We cut across the grass toward a simple granite headstone I can see in the distance.
Logan stands with his back to us. His broad shoulders are tense beneath the black suit jacket. His hands are clasped behind his back. He doesn’t turn around as we approach, but I know he hears us. Aran is next to him, looming like a protective giant. He spots us and nods.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.
I hold my finger up. “Don’t.”
He chuckles and moves to the side.
I stop a few feet behind them. Lisa moves away, giving us space.
“Logan,” I say softly.
He turns slowly. His blue eyes find mine, and something in his expression cracks open. Vulnerability. Raw and honest and completely unguarded.
“Nuala,” he murmurs.
I move closer, my feet silent on the grass. “Too much?”
“Perfect.” His hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You’re perfect.”
I glance at the headstone behind him. Christine Mary Ryan. Beloved friend and daughter.
“Hi, Chris,” I whisper. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your best friend for the rest of his life.”
Logan’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his side. “She’d love you,” he says, his voice thick. “She’d love how you push back. How you don’t take my shit.”
“She sounds smart.”
“She was the smartest person I knew.” He presses his lips to my temple. “You are amazing for doing this.”
“She needs to know that you found something worth living for again.”
“She told me to find a woman who knew my worth,” he continues, his words coming faster now.
“Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of what I am.
Who I was born to be. I thought she meant find someone who could handle the O’Neill legacy.
” He cups my face, forcing me to look at him.
“But she meant find someone who could match it. Someone who could stand in the darkness with me and not flinch.”
“I’m here,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He rests his forehead against mine. For a moment, we just breathe together. Then he pulls back, his composure returning into place.
The rumble of an engine announces the arrival of the other guests. Connor’s sons, Logan’s cousins. Liam and Sean, whom I only met yesterday. They approach quietly, respectfully. This is sacred ground, even for men who deal in violence. A priest is with them.
I glance toward the cemetery entrance one more time.
The hope I’ve been trying to suppress flickers and dies.
She’s not coming. Of course she’s not. I sent the invitation to my mother more out of obligation than expectation.
She made her choice about me twenty-eight years ago when she took Cathal’s money and kept me anyway, probably out of spite.
“She’s not coming,” I say quietly, more to myself than Logan.
His hand tightens on mine. “Her loss.”
Connor clears his throat. “Are we ready?”
I turn to face the small gathering. Connor stands at the head of Chris’s grave. Liam and Sean flank him like bookends. Lisa positions herself slightly apart, her blue dress bright against the gray headstones.
“Sorry, I’m late… the bus…”
I spin around. A woman walks toward us. She’s rail thin, wearing a coat that’s seen better days. Her pitch-black hair is pulled back in a severe bun. She looks uncomfortable, out of place among the expensive suits and polished shoes.
My mother.
She stops a respectful distance away, her hands clutched in front of her. “I wasn’t sure I should come,” she says. “I didn’t know if you’d really want me here.”
“Mum…”
She looks me over with her bright blue eyes, her expression unreadable. “You look beautiful, Nuala.”
The compliment hits harder than expected. I can’t remember the last time she said anything kind to me.
“Thank you for coming,” I croak.
She nods once, then moves to stand beside Lisa. They don’t speak, but Mum frowns at her, obviously seeing the resemblance to me, but choosing not to comment on it.
Logan’s hand finds the small of my back. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I lean into his touch. “I’m good.”
The priest who arrived with Liam and Sean steps forward.
He holds a small leather book—not a Bible, but something that looks official.
“We’re gathered here today to witness the union of Logan O’Neill and Fionnuala Quinn.
” His voice carries across the quiet cemetery.
“They’ve chosen this place, this woman’s resting place, to bind themselves together.
To honor the dead while celebrating the living. ”
Logan turns to face me fully. His hands grip mine, and I can feel the slight tremor in his fingers. He’s nervous. This dangerous man, who kills without hesitation, is nervous about marrying me, even though this was his idea. It makes me smile.
“When I lost Chris, I lost my direction. I stumbled through darkness, pretending to serve a God I no longer believed in. Then you walked into my life with a tray of gross sandwiches, and everything clicked into place.”
I blink back tears, even though I’m giggling.
His thumbs brush over my knuckles. “You were never supposed to matter this much. You were someone I needed to protect. A loose end that needed securing. But you became my reason. My purpose. My fucking salvation.”
“Jesus,” Sean mutters. Liam elbows him hard.
“I vow to protect you,” Logan continues. “To provide for you. To stand between you and every threat this world throws at us. I vow to be yours, completely and irrevocably, until my last breath.”
I take a shaky breath. My prepared words evaporate.
“I didn’t know what I was worth until you showed me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I thought I was nothing. No one. A woman who could disappear, and the world wouldn’t notice.
” I squeeze his hands. “But you noticed. You saw me when I was invisible. You claimed me when I thought I was disposable.”
Logan’s jaw clenches. I watch him fight to maintain his composure.
“I vow to stand with you,” I continue, my voice growing stronger. “In violence and in peace. In darkness and in light. I vow to be the woman Chris knew you deserved. Someone who sees all of you—the ex-priest, the killer, the protector—and loves every piece.”
“Rings,” Connor prompts.
Lisa steps forward with a small velvet box. She opens it to reveal two simple platinum bands. Logan takes one, sliding it onto my finger above the engagement ring.
I take the second band. My hands shake as I slide it onto Logan’s ring finger. It looks strange there. Foreign. But right.
“By the power vested in me by the Almighty God, I declare you husband and wife. Kiss your bride before she freezes to death out here.”
Logan doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes against mine in a kiss that’s possessive and claiming and completely inappropriate for a cemetery. I don’t care. I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring weeks of fear and violence and desperate love into the contact.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. Logan’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.
“Mine,” he says against my lips.
“Yours,” I confirm. “Always.”