Epilogue Two
Adrian
T he morning rays filtered through our bedroom windows, lighting up Isla's sleeping form.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the massive diamond on her left hand catching the light like captured fire.
Three days had passed since that night, but the memory burned as bright as the flames that had crowned us.
I could still taste the smoke in the air, still feel the heat licking at my skin as I led her through the empty streets toward the open valley.
My heart had hammered against my chest, not from nerves, but from the sheer magnitude of what I was about to do.
What we were all about to witness.
Because it hadn't been just us. Connor and Jax had been there, hidden in the shadows beyond the circle, their presence a silent blessing on what was about to unfold.
Sierra, Estelle, and even Crew stood with them, barely visible in the darkness but vital to the moment .
My family, the people who'd watched me transform from a broken boy into a man worthy of the angel sleeping beside me.
They'd helped me plan it—Connor with his Batman aura and Jax with that golden boy charm that made the impossible seem possible.
The girls and Crew had kept Isla distracted while I prepared everything, their excited energy barely contained as they plotted and schemed.
"She's going to lose her mind," Sierra had whispered, eyes bright with anticipation.
"In the best possible way," Estelle had agreed, already planning the celebration that would follow.
I’d started giving Crew private lessons for the upcoming season, where he’d be officially joining the gym and finally meet Elliott.
The memory of leading Isla into that circle of fire still sent heat through my veins.
She'd trusted me completely, even as I positioned her in the center of what looked like a trap designed by a madman.
Her soft blue eyes had reflected the flames when I lit the gasoline, turning her into something mythical, a goddess of fire and chaos who alone belonged in my world of beautiful destruction.
I'd dropped to one knee on the warm floor, the ring box trembling in my hands as the fire roared around us like a living crown.
The words had come from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, pulled from the very core of who I'd become because of her.
"Isla," I'd said, my voice filled with emotion that years of violence hadn't been able to beat out of me.
"You walked into my darkness and didn't just bring light, you set everything ablaze. You burned away every wall I'd built, every lie I'd told myself about being unworthy of love."
Her breath had caught, tears reflecting the flames as she stared down at me.
"I was born into hate, raised on pain, convinced I was too broken for anything good. But you looked at every scar, every shadow, every piece of damage, and called it beautiful. "
The ring caught the firelight as I opened the box, the custom diamond throwing rainbows against her tear-streaked cheeks.
"You saved me, angel. Now let me spend forever proving I'm worth saving."
The silence had stretched between us, filled with the crackling of flames and the thunder of my pulse.
Then she'd dropped to her knees in front of me, her hands framing my face with the kind of gentleness I'd never known existed.
"Yes," she'd whispered, and the word had exploded through me like a second ignition. "Yes to all of it. Yes to forever."
I'd slipped the ring onto her finger with hands that shook like I was sixteen instead of twenty-seven, like I was touching something sacred instead of claiming what was already mine.
The moment the band settled into place, our family had emerged from the shadows, Connor's rare smile, Jax's whoop of joy, Sierra and Estelle rushing forward to admire the ring and embrace us both.
Crew had nearly toppled his sister over.
We'd stood there in our burning circle, surrounded by the people who mattered most, and never felt happier.
Now, watching Isla sleep with that ring catching the morning light, I felt that same overwhelming gratitude crash over me again.
She stirred slightly, unconsciously moving closer to my warmth, and I couldn't resist reaching out to trace the line of her shoulder where it emerged from the sheet.
"Adrian?" Her voice was thick with sleep, eyes fluttering open to focus on my face. "What time is it?"
"Early," I murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep, angel."
Instead, she pushed herself up, the sheet falling away to reveal the gentle curve of her breasts, the pale expanse of skin that belonged to me in every way that mattered.
"Can't sleep when you're thinking so loud," she said with a sleepy smile. "What's got you spinning? "
"You," I said simply, because it was always her. "Us. The fact that you're going to be my wife."
Her smile widened, eyes sparkling with the same wild happiness that had lit her face in the fire circle.
"Mrs. Hills," she said, testing her name. "I still can't believe it's real."
"Believe it," I growled, pulling her into my lap so she straddled my thighs. "You're mine, angel. Officially, legally, completely mine."
She laughed, the sound bright and unguarded as her hands settled on my shoulders. "Possessive much?"
"Always." My hands found her waist, thumbs stroking over the soft skin just above her hipbones. "Especially now that I have a ring to prove it."
The playful atmosphere shifted as she looked down at me with eyes that held no shadows, no doubt, no fear. Just love so pure and complete, it made my heart swell with emotions I was still learning to name.
"Show me," she whispered, her fingers trailing down my chest to trace the edge of a tattoo that covered particularly vicious scars. "Show me how much I'm yours."
"Fuck, angel." I groaned, the possessiveness in her voice going straight to my cock. "Keep talking like that and I'll never let you leave this bed."
"Who says I want to leave?"
I kissed her, slow and deep, pouring everything I felt into the connection between us.
She tasted like promises and forever, like the future I'd never dared to dream about until she made it possible.
My hands moved to the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it over her head.
She was perfect underneath, pale curves and gentle strength, the morning light painting her skin in shades of gold and cream.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” I breathed, palming her breasts with reverent hands. "Every inch of you, angel. "
She arched into my touch, head falling back to expose the line of her throat where my ribbon rested.
The sight of my mark on her skin sent possessive heat straight to my cock, reminding me that she wore my claim even in sleep.
But it was when her hands found the hem of my own shirt, tugging it off to reveal the tapestry of ink and scars underneath, that something cracked open.
I watched her face as she traced the tattoos that covered my damaged skin, her touch gentle over evidence of my birthers’ cruelty.
"These tell your story," she said softly, fingers following the line of a particularly vicious scar that wrapped around my ribs. "Every mark led you to me. Made you who you are."
She leaned down, pressing kisses along the path her fingers had traced.
Each touch was absolution, forgiveness for the sin of believing I was beyond redemption.
"You see beauty where there should only be ugliness," I said, voice cracking with the weight of her acceptance.
"I see the man I love," she corrected, looking up at me with eyes that held no judgment. "All of him. Every beautiful, broken, perfect piece."
Her hands explored the scars on my torso, mapping territory that belonged to her now.
Each kiss she pressed against the raised ridges beneath my tattoos sent fire straight through my veins, every mark a story she claimed with her lips.
"Enough," I growled, the word torn from my chest as I gripped her shoulders. “It’s my turn.”
I flipped us, pinning her beneath me on the rumpled sheets. Her eyes went wide with anticipation as I settled my weight over her.
She looked like a goddess spread out for my worship.
"Adrian," she breathed, hands reaching for me, but I caught her wrists, pressing them into the mattress above her head.
"Stay," I commanded, voice rough with need. “Be a good girl. ”
My hands moved to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples that hardened instantly under my touch.
She arched into me, a soft moan escaping her lips as I squeezed the soft flesh, positioning myself between the valley of her cleavage.
"Fuck, these big tits,” I groaned, sliding my cock between her breasts, the friction sending sparks up my spine. "So fucking made for my cock.”
I spit onto her sternum and pressed her breasts together against my shaft, creating the most exquisite pressure as I began to thrust slowly.
The head of my cock emerged between the soft mounds with each stroke, dark and swollen, already leaking precum that slicked the path between her tits.
“Fucking hot,” I rasped, watching her face as I fucked her breasts with increasing intensity. “You make me feral.”
"Yes," she gasped, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I love it.”
My hips snapped forward as I chased the building pressure. Her skin was silk and fire beneath me, the perfect cradle for my cock as I lost myself in the rhythm.
When she craned her neck forward, tongue flicking out to taste the head of my cock as it appeared, I nearly lost it.
"Fuck, Isla," I snarled, grip tightening on her breasts. "Keep doing that and I'll?—"
The orgasm hit like lightning, pleasure tearing through me as I came hard across her face and lips.
Thick ropes of cum painted her cheeks, her parted lips, dripping down her chin in obscene streams that made her look thoroughly debauched and absolutely stunning.
I grinned, leaning down and running my tongue along her lips, licking my cum right off her skin.
She moaned into my mouth, the act so filthy and intimate it made my hungry dick twitch with interest already.
"Mine," I murmured against her mouth, tongue delving deep to share the taste. "All mine. "
"Yours," she agreed breathlessly, hands finally free to tangle in my hair. "Always yours."
I kissed my way down her body, pausing to worship her breasts and stomach before continuing lower.
She was soaked, her arousal coating her thighs as I settled between her legs and drove into her with one powerful thrust.
"Adrian!" she cried out, back arching as I filled her completely.
The sensation of being inside her, surrounded by her heat and perfect tightness, was like coming home and lighting a fire all at once.
We moved together with desperate tenderness, two people who'd found their dark salvation in each other's bodies.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper as I drove into her with increasing intensity.
"I love you," she gasped, nails digging into my shoulders as pleasure built between us like a gathering storm. “I love all of you."
“I love you, too,” I growled against her throat, teeth scraping over the ribbon that marked her as claimed. “I love my angel. My wife. My everything."
The orgasm that tore through us was violent and beautiful, leaving us both shaking in its aftermath.
I collapsed beside her, pulling her against my chest as our breathing slowly returned to normal.
"Adrian Hills," I said aloud for the millionth time, testing the name that was already mine. “Fuck, that sounds good."
"You belong with me," she smiled, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "You always have."
I thought about Connor and Sierra, about the way they'd found each other in darkness and built something strong.
About Jax and Estelle, their love story written in luxurious moments and shared laughter.
Different paths, different timelines, but all leading to the same destination—the kind of love that transformed monsters into men, broken souls into whole hearts .
We'd found each other among our trio, but somehow, we were going to be the first to marry.
The first to stand in front of our chosen family and declare that this life was worth claiming.
"The others are going to give me so much shit for proposing first," I mused, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Isla's bare shoulder.
“So?” she asked, lifting her head to look at me with eyes that sparkled with mischief. "We'll be too busy being married to care."
Married. The word sent fire through every nerve ending, a promise and a victory all wrapped up in one beautiful concept.
I'd spent my whole life believing I was too insane for this kind of happiness. Too violent, too stained by blood and brutality to deserve something pure and good.
But Isla had chosen to love me anyway.
In the circle of fire, surrounded by family who'd helped orchestrate our beginning, she'd said yes to a future I'd never dared to dream about.
Yes to taking my chaos and making it beautiful. Yes to burning bright enough to light up all my shadows.
"I really love you," I promised, the words still feeling new and miraculous on my tongue. "Forever isn't going to be long enough."
“Good thing I’m your angel then,” she grinned, settling back against my chest with contentment that radiated through both of us.
Outside, the world woke up around us, unaware that two vastly different souls had just confirmed their wholeness in a bed overlooking the city.
We burned brighter than ever. Two hearts beating in perfect synchronization, two souls that had recognized their match across our lives.
I was no longer just Adrian.
I was Adrian Hills, fiancé, future husband, brother, son, man reborn through the grace of an angel who'd seen light where everyone else saw only shadow.
Forever felt like exactly the right amount of time.