Epilogue
"The cause of the explosion in Little Turkey last week was a buildup of methane gas from the decomposing waste in the adjacent landfill, further exacerbated by industrial chemicals that were illegally dumped at the site,” the newscaster announced with a serious expression.
“The cause is deemed natural and not due to any foul play. No casualties resulted from the fire. The owner of the landfill will be assessed fines and penalties for the handling of industrial chemicals...”
Britt pressed mute on the television, then shifted in Lachlan's arms, the couch creaking beneath them. "What a cover-up." She shook her head, dark waves cascading over her shoulders. Quattro's surgical demolition of Wesley Thomas's black site had gotten quite the makeover in the press.
"What did you expect?" Lachlan's fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm. "That they'd admit one of their own had constructed an off-the-books black site and was using it to torture reluctant informants into giving them evidence to take down criminal organizations?"
She rolled her eyes, settling deeper into his embrace. "And 'no casualties'?"
"Wesley Thomas's death is characterized as being in the line of duty on a special ops mission." Lachlan's jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his stubbled skin. "Complete with commendations and awards for exemplary service. Again, as expected."
"That doesn't bother you? That the truth about what he did will never be known?" Britt asked, her voice rising slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, pressing against the solid warmth of Lachlan's frame.
His eyes met hers, amber flecks catching the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. "He's dead, Britt. He can't hurt you or Paloma ever again. That's all I care about." His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "That's all you should care about, too."
"You're right," Britt acknowledged, exhaling slowly, forcing the tension from her shoulders.
The sound of delighted squeals and splashing filtered into the house from the open accordion doors.
Paloma and her Goat Scout Camp friends frolicked in the outdoor infinity pool, their laughter carried on the salt-tinged breeze.
The camp coordinators watched over them dutifully, clipboards in hand, as they chatted near the cabana.
Britt's gaze lingered on her daughter, a lump forming in her throat. Her little girl deserved this day of pampered fun after the ordeal she'd been through.
"You think she's really okay?" Britt asked, watching Paloma execute a cannonball that sent water cascading over the edge of the pool.
"I do," Lachlan said, his Scottish brogue thickening with emotion.
"No nightmares, and she's opening up in her sessions with the pediatric therapist Fallon recommended.
Not holding back on what happened to her and how it made her feel.
" His eyes softened as he watched their daughter.
"The therapist thinks she's going to come through this just fine, especially since she has both of us. "
Britt nodded, relief washing through her. The memory of finding Paloma with that crude explosive vest strapped to her tiny frame still haunted her dreams, but during waking hours, she forced herself to focus on the present—on the miracle of having her family intact.
"Amazing what the King Family can do when properly motivated," she remarked, glancing around the living room.
The renovated house looked spectacular. The King Family ensured that the restoration occurred at record speed, bringing in crews that worked around the clock to erase every trace of damage.
New furnishings, repaired walls, and gleaming floors made it impossible to tell that a violent encounter had ever taken place here.
Lachlan chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest against her back. “Serena was mortified by what happened under the watch of her overpaid security team. That was enough for her to mobilize an army of contractors. Hard to believe it's only been two weeks."
"It helps," Britt admitted. "Coming back to a place that feels safe, that doesn't remind her of what happened."
"Mmm," Lachlan hummed in agreement, his fingers toying with a strand of her hair. There was something in his voice—a hesitancy that made her turn to look at him.
"What is it?" she asked, studying the subtle tension in his features.
"Wait here." He said extricated himself from their embrace. "I need to get something."
Britt watched, curiosity piqued, as he disappeared down the hallway toward their bedroom. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of adjustments—returning to the house, settling into a rhythm as a family, reassuring Paloma that yes, Britt was indeed her mother, and yes, she was staying for good.
The decision to leave Quattro behind had been surprisingly easy in the end.
Alejandro, Miquel, and Corey had accepted her decision with grace, understanding that her priorities had shifted.
Hunter had insisted on moving to St. Felipe to be there for her, despite Lachlan’s protests.
Luckily, the rest of the Stingray team were open to bringing Hunter into the fold, which Britt appreciated.
She wanted him to find a new purpose in life away from Quattro.
Lachlan returned, something clutched in his palm. He sat beside her on the couch, a nervous energy radiating from him that she hadn't seen in years.
"I've been waiting for the right moment," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "Which is ridiculous because I've had this for five years now."
Her heart stuttered as she realized what this might be.
He opened his palm, revealing a small velvet box, worn slightly at the edges—evidence of how many times it had been handled over the years.
He didn’t have to open the box for her to picture the ring inside. It was the same one he’d held in front of her the first, second, and third time he’d tried to make her his wife.
"I kept it all this time," Lachlan continued, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "I thought someday I might give it to the man who wanted to marry our daughter." A self-deprecating smile curved his lips. "Never imagined I'd be trying once again to propose to you."
Britt's throat tightened as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. "Lachlan ..."
"I'm a bit fearful, to be honest," he admitted, his thumb rubbing over the velvet box. "You've turned me down quite a few times before."
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I have, haven't I?"
"Not giving me any hints this time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You'll have to ask to find out," she replied, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Lachlan took a deep breath, then opened the box. Nestled inside was a platinum ring with an emerald-cut diamond, flanked by smaller sapphires that caught the light streaming through the windows. Simple yet stunning—exactly her taste.
He slid from the couch to one knee, taking her hand in his.
"Britt," he said, his voice steadier now, resonating with certainty.
"I've loved you from the first moment I met you.
I've loved you through years of believing you were gone forever.
And I love you now, even more, knowing everything we've survived to be here together. "
Tears welled in her eyes as he continued.
"You are the strongest, most stubborn, most incredible woman I've ever known.
We've faced cartels, crazed PISCOs, amnesia, and even death—and somehow found our way back to each other.
" His fingers tightened around hers. "I don't want to waste another moment.
Marry me. Be my wife. Let's give Paloma the family she deserves, the one we've always wanted. "
Britt felt a tear slip down her cheek as she gazed at the man before her—this beautiful, loyal, fierce protector who had never given up on her, even when she had given up on herself.
"I'd be stupid to say no again, wouldn't I?" she asked, a watery laugh escaping her lips.
"Incredibly stupid," he agreed, a grin breaking across his face.
"Then yes," Britt whispered, then louder, "Yes, Lachlan. I'll marry you."
He slipped the ring onto her finger—a perfect fit, like it had been waiting all these years just for this moment. Surging upward, he captured her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy.
"Took you long enough," he murmured, those amber eyes dancing with joy.
"Oh, shut up!" She laughed, then kissed him again.
The sound of splashing from outside reminded them they weren't alone. Lachlan pulled back, still holding her hands in his.
"Should we tell her now?" he asked, nodding toward the pool.
Britt's smile widened. "Absolutely."
Hand in hand, they walked out onto the veranda. The afternoon sun bathed the scene in golden light, glinting off the water where Paloma and her friends played. The infinity pool seemed to merge with the Caribbean Sea beyond, creating a vista of endless blue stretching to the horizon.
"Paloma," Lachlan called, his voice carrying across the water. "Come here, hen. We have something to tell you."
Paloma's head popped up from beneath the surface, water streaming from her dark curls. She swam to the edge of the pool with quick, confident strokes, hoisting herself up with a grace that belied her five years.
"What is it, Daddy?" she asked, water puddling around her feet as she padded over to them, wrapped in a towel emblazoned with cartoon mermaids.
Britt knelt to her level, the diamond on her finger catching the sunlight. Paloma's eyes widened as she spotted it, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise.
"Your Daddy asked me to marry him," Britt explained, her heart overflowing with love for this perfect little person they'd created. "And I said yes."
For a moment, Paloma just stared, processing the information. Then her face split into a brilliant smile, eyes lighting up with pure joy.
"Really?" she squealed, bouncing on her toes. "You're going to be my mommy forever and ever?"
"I've always been your mommy," Britt said, stroking her damp cheek. "But now it's going to be official."
Paloma launched herself at them both, her small arms attempting to encircle them in a group hug. "This is the best day ever!"
Her excitement caught the attention of the other children, who gathered around, curious about the commotion.
"What's happening?" one little girl asked, adjusting her flamingo-print swimsuit.
"My mommy and daddy are getting married!" Paloma announced, practically vibrating with excitement.
The announcement was met with a chorus of whoops and cheers from the children, who immediately began peppering them with questions about the wedding.
"Will there be cake?"
"Can I be a flower girl?"
"Are you going to wear a princess dress?"
Britt laughed, overwhelmed by their enthusiasm. Lachlan wrapped an arm around her waist as they fielded the barrage of inquiries.
"Alright, alright," the camp coordinator finally intervened, clapping her hands to regain the children's attention. "Let's give Mr. Ritchie and Ms. Freeman some space. Back to the pool, everyone!"
The children reluctantly dispersed, but Paloma lingered, her eyes fixed on Britt's ring.
"It's so pretty," she sighed, her fingers gently touching it. "Like the stars in the sky."
"Just like you," Lachlan said, kneeling beside them. He pulled Paloma into his arms, kissing the top of her head. "My two stars, finally where they belong."
Britt joined in the embrace, her heart so full it felt like it might burst. The three of them stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms.
Over Paloma's head, Britt's eyes met Lachlan's. The love she saw reflected there was everything she'd ever wanted, everything she'd fought so hard to remember.
"I love you," she mouthed silently.
"I love you more," he mouthed back, the devotion in his gaze leaving no room for doubt.
As the Caribbean breeze caressed her face, carrying the sound of their daughter's laughter, Britt knew that, after all the darkness, after all the loss, pain, and struggle, she had finally found her way back to the light.