Epilogue
SOFIYA
It’s the kind of day that sparkles. Warm, opulent sunshine spills across the lawns of Fallbrook, gilding everything in soft gold.
The private chapel has been filled to capacity with stridently vetted A-listers, politicians pretending they’re not nervous, and at least two billionaires whose entourages got turned away at the gates because Orazio doesn’t allow entourages. Ever.
Cesare stands at the altar like a man who finally believes in miracles. Maddie is radiant, in a dove-grey silk dress that moulds to her waist, hair pinned with delicate pearls.
Nico sleeps in her arms, swaddled in hand-stitched lace, blissfully unaware that his godparents are two of the deadliest people in the room.
Me.
And Rafaelle.
He’s behind me now. I feel the burn of his stare before I hear the low chuckle. ‘You’re squeezing my hand hard enough to crack bone, tigra.’
I glance up at him, smirking. ‘You’re lucky I’m not aiming higher.’
The priest starts the benediction. Cesare murmurs something to Maddie, who smiles up at him like no one else exists, and I blink, chest squeezing with a warmth I’m still learning to hold.
A few rows back, Jacinta is seated beside our mother, both dressed in fierce couture rumoured to be thoroughly vetted by Orazio. Their matching high cheekbones and sculpted glares could outshine the Virgin herself, but in this moment, even they seem softened by the ceremony unfolding at the altar.
When the priest begins the blessing, the hush in the air feels sacred, ancient.
‘We vow,’ Maddie says, her voice unwavering, ‘to raise this child in truth, in strength, in protection. And should he ever be lost, may he always find his way home.’
Cesare’s deep voice joins hers, echoing through the vaulted chapel. ‘In love and in fire, we’ll lead him.’
We repeat the same vow, and as I murmur the words beside Rafa, my throat tightens. Because this vow isn’t just for Nico. It’s for every child born into our legacy, into blood and blades. It’s for the ones like us.
I glance down at my hand, at the ring Rafa gave me after our first Aegis mission three days ago. The diamond is unapologetically large, cushion-cut, set in a blackened platinum band shaped like interlocking daggers. Light catches in its depths like secrets too dangerous to speak aloud.
My heart leaps when I look up and Rafa’s watching me with a feral look in his eyes. As if he, too, can’t wait for the vows we’ll be taking soon.
Jacinta, finally back in Manhattan and practising law again, clinks her champagne glass against my mother’s mimosa, murmuring something dry that makes Vittoria laugh – actually laugh.
A few seats away, Narciso is in his element, tailored to sin, swirling brandy and sparring with the Salvatore twins about Formula One rankings like they’re gambling chips. He’s still swagger and smirk, but even I can see it – the edge has dulled. A little. I make a note to see what’s up with him.
‘I can’t take my eyes off you,’ Rafa murmurs into my ear, voice husky.
I glance down at myself. Dior ivory silk with a slit up the thigh, neckline sharp enough to draw blood. ‘Can’t say I blame you. I do look expensive today.’
He smirks. ‘You always look expensive. Even when you’re threatening to garrotte someone in cargo pants. And soon, you’ll be a better assassin than me,’ he adds with a smug grin that’s all wolf. Then his eyes go a little molten, a lot feral. All alpha psycho goodness I can’t get enough of.
Even as I roll my eyes, smoothing a hand down his lapel. ‘You’re thinking about our next job, aren’t you?’
He hums low in his throat. ‘Only if you think me getting my fat cock into your tight little c—’
I slap a hand over his mouth, face burning. ‘Rafa, there are kids here!’
He nips my palm. ‘Now there’s a job I wouldn’t mind at all. A kid. Ours.’
Shock and elation pummel me, even as I laugh, leaning in until our foreheads touch. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
Halfway through the ceremony, while the crowd pours into the garden and heads for champagne towers, live cello and gold-dusted canapés Orazio wouldn’t budge on, I follow Rafa through the French doors into the library.
The second we’re alone, he locks the door and pulls me close. Tugs off my panties, brings them to his nose to inhale deeply before stuffing them in his pocket.
‘My protégé. Soon to be my wife. And the mother of all the babies I intend to put in her belly. Letting you shoot me was the best idea I’ve ever had.’
‘God… Rafa,’ I moan, even as I melt.
He brushes his lips across mine – soft, reverent, with just enough bite to make a promise.
And then, from the garden, Nico lets out his first howl of the evening.
Rafa grins. ‘Our godson has taste. Knows how to make an entrance.’
‘I hope he takes after Maddie.’
He sobers just a fraction. ‘He’ll be safe. You hear me? We’ll make this whole goddamn world safer for him. For all our babies.’
I nod.
Because the war isn’t over. But for the first time in my life, I’m fighting beside the man I trust – with my blood, with my life, with the very shaky, precious thing called hope.
When he’s done with me in the best possible way, we open the door and walk back into the light.
Together.
MORE FROM ZARA COX
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