Taryn
Elizabeth was one hundred percent correct that her father does not care for the Greeks, and now I understand how deep that hatred runs.
The Italian mafia don was okay with our conversation with the senator, but he had limits.
That took a full day to discuss and negotiate, and I wasn’t in the room for those conversations.
I’m not going to lie: I was okay with that.
Honestly, knowing that this is a brutal world and seeing up close and personal how brutal it can be are two entirely different things.
I was glad to return to my classes the next day.
Even if Liam followed me to every class, and I had one of our other guys watching at all times.
A meeting was finally arranged, to which I was invited, with Senator Sutton. When Liam brought him what he’d uncovered—financial transactions, investor lists, shipping routes—he didn’t hesitate. He’d needed the match. We gave him the flame.
According to Liam’s father, the Greeks won’t be officially charged, not in ways that would lead to public downfall.
That was one of Victor’s conditions. But quiet investigations have begun exclusively into their trafficking activities.
They’re being watched by more than just the Irish now.
By Washington. By Interpol. Their operations in the U.S.
will shrink, and fast. Funding frozen, safe houses raided, shipping lanes flagged.
They’ll regroup somewhere, maybe. But here? They’ll be bleeding for a while.
I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel electric. I didn’t just survive a shootout. I didn’t just stand in a room full of men raised to believe women are porcelain and say what needed to be said; I helped end something. Something vile.
And Liam was by my side the entire time. He trusted me. Not just as his wife—but as his equal.
I glance around the quiet courtyard outside my parents’ place, the late afternoon sun catching the edges of the stone as I sit on the bench, killing time until my reception tonight. I smile to myself.
Footsteps approach.
I don’t have to turn around. I know it’s him.
Liam always walks like he’s got the world by the throat—confident, loud, a little cocky. But today, there’s something softer under his steps. A weight. An intention.
He sits beside me.
“Hey,” he says simply.
“Hey.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly nervous. “Everything okay?” Despite all that’s happened, I keep waiting for him to tell me that something fell through. That the Greeks have a new playbook. That I was wrong to have so much hope in the future.
Instead, his lips curve. “Everything is perfect.”
I exhale. “Good.”
He’s silent for a second. Then, “The senator moved faster than I expected. Elizabeth said he was mad you didn’t loop him in earlier.”
I smirk. “He’ll survive.”
Liam chuckles. Then he leans forward, elbows on his knees, clasping his hands between them.
For a moment, I panic. I know this look.
Something is wrong. There is anxiety in Liam’s movements.
It’s not something I could have detected a few weeks ago, but now, I’m certain he’s about to say something difficult.
“Taryn, I know this isn’t the life you asked for. When we met, you wanted out. A clean break. Law school in California. A life that had nothing to do with our clan.”
“I know what I wanted,” I say softly, wondering where he’s going with this. “But I also know what I have now.”
He looks over at me, eyes searching mine. “But do you want it?”
Does he really have to ask? I reach for his hand. “I want you.”
Something shifts in his expression, and before I can speak again, he stands and reaches into his pocket.
“I was going to wait until the reception,” he says, “but screw it. I want you to have this.”
He kneels.
“Liam!” I gasp, looking around. “You can’t—”
“I’m not proposing,” he says with a grin. “Already did that once. And you married me under threat of scandal.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t scandalized. You were.”
“Semantics.” He opens the small velvet box.
Inside is a ring. Very different from the one I wear now—an emerald, deep green, set in brushed gold. The color is brilliant. Flawed. Real.
It’s stunning.
“Ryan helped me pick it out. He says the gemstone has plenty of inclusions, but that’s what adds to its beauty.”
I swallow hard. “It’s beautiful.”
“I had hoped you would like it. I’d like to think its flaws tell a story.” He whispers the words as he squeezes my fingers.
“What story?”
“One of struggle. Growth. Resilience. Its imperfection makes it real, like us.”
I slide the ring on slowly, replacing the diamond he once gave me in a moment of obligation. This one feels more like a vow. A choice.
“I love it,” I whisper.
His shoulders relax, slightly. “Now, it shines.” His shoulders tense again. “But, there’s more you need to know about it.”
I’m turning my hand, watching the stone catch the sunlight, when I murmur, “What’s that?”
“If you press it hard between your fingers for more than three seconds, it will set off an alarm.” My eyes fly to his face, and he continues, “It has a tracker in it. It’s as much for your safety as it is for my sanity.”
I grin at this. He may be expecting an argument, but I simply kiss his cheek. “Thank you, baby.”
He takes another deep breath before pulling a key from his pocket. “And this?” he says, holding it out. “This is an apartment in Half Moon Bay. Ocean views. Walkable cafes. A life far from this one. It’s yours too. Not too far from Stanford.”
I stare at it.
“I won’t divorce you,” he says, voice low.
“I can’t. I won’t ever be able to let you go.
So, don’t think I’m suggesting that.” He stops.
Clears his throat. “But I will give you space, time, whatever you need if this life isn’t what you want.
You don’t have to stay. I’ve had your money deposited into a new account for you.
You can access it whenever you want. I can’t be responsible for taking your choices away. I know you had plans for your life.”
I take the key from his hand and stare at it for a moment. Then I reach into my purse and drop it inside.
His face falls for a moment before he gives me a half smile.
“It’s a beautiful area,” I tell him.
He nods. Swallows. “Yes.” He clears his throat. “I’ve only seen it online, but I thought you would like it.”
“I’ll keep it,” I say, “as a vacation option for us. Maybe a spring break honeymoon?”
“I don’t understand.” His voice is gruff.
“I want to stay. With you.”
His eyes meet mine.
“I want law school in Chicago,” I continue.
“And Sunday dinners with our families because we are eventually going to have to make it to a mass with my mother. I also want more late nights in bed where you kiss me until I forget why I was mad at you. I want to be your wife, Liam. And not just in name.”
He puffs out air slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for months. Like I just gave him permission to exhale.
I reach up and press my palm to his cheek.
“I know this wasn’t the life you wanted either, Liam.
But, you’re not your father. You don’t lead with fear.
You lead with strength and heart and intelligence.
You’re going to make the Irish stronger than they’ve ever been.
And I want to be by your side when you do it.
Besides”—I grin—“if you keep trying to run people over, you’ll eventually need me as your lawyer. ”
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s all heat and reverence, urgency and relief. I lose myself in it, in him.
When we finally break apart, he leans his forehead against mine. “I’m going to love you forever.”
I smile against his lips. “Then it’s a good thing forever’s exactly what I’m planning on.”
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