Chapter 29
twenty-nine
Vivi perched on the arm of Dom’s leather couch, her legs crossed at the ankle, staring at the door as if she could will it open through sheer force of concentration.
The antique clock on his mantel ticked away seconds that felt like hours.
She’d been here since ice queen Fiona kicked her out of the WSW war room.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. Fiona was just protecting the business. She wasn’t an operative. She legally had no clearance to stay.
So she’d come here instead, because she wanted to be the first thing Dom saw when he finally made it home.
She rose and paced the living room, fingertips trailing across surfaces that had grown as familiar to her as those in her own apartment.
The coffee table where she’d set her sketchbook more mornings than not.
The kitchen counter where they’d shared hurried breakfasts and midnight snacks.
The hallway that led to his bedroom, where she’d slept more nights in the past weeks than she’d spent at her own place.
She was practically living here. Had been since they’d returned from Greece.
Yet neither of them had acknowledged the arrangement as anything but temporary.
Neither had mentioned her growing collection of clothes in his closet or her preferred brand of coffee that had replaced his in the pantry.
They’d been too busy with Sabin’s recovery, with the aftermath of everything Praetorian had done, to define what they were becoming.
Vivi checked her watch and peered through the front window blinds. Dusk had settled over Brooklyn, street lamps flickering to life one by one. The team should have landed hours ago.
Where was he?
She’d left her phone in her purse to avoid checking it obsessively. To resist the urge to call Daphne for updates every ten minutes. Still, the longer she waited, the harder it became to ignore the tight knot of anxiety in her chest. What if something had gone wrong in the final moments?
The sound of keys jangling at the front door pulled her from her thoughts. She straightened, brushing invisible wrinkles from her jeans, and resumed her perch on the arm of the couch. Casual. Unruffled. As if she hadn’t spent the day oscillating between fear and relief.
The door swung open, and Dom stepped inside, gun already drawn and aimed low. She’d startled him the same way three nights ago; he wasn’t taking chances. When his eyes found her, the tension in his shoulders eased, and he lowered the weapon.
“Breaking and entering?” he asked, voice rough with exhaustion as he closed the door behind him. “That’s a felony, Viv.”
“It’s not breaking if you have a key.” She rose, taking in his appearance. He looked utterly spent. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he held his left arm carefully against his side. “Is it done?”
Dom holstered his weapon and nodded. “Yeah. It’s done.”
Malcolm Raines was dead.
The man who had tortured her brother, who had nearly destroyed everything, was gone. She expected satisfaction—had counted on it—but what she felt was something else entirely. It was messier, more complicated. Relief, yes. But also a strange hollowness.
“How did you know I’d be back tonight?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket with a wince that he couldn’t quite hide.
“I didn’t.” She moved toward him then, close enough that she could smell the antiseptic soap he must have used to shower off the mission.
“I’ve been here since you left.” She made a face.
“Well, since Fiona told me, in no uncertain terms, I wasn’t allowed to be on the premises anymore.
” She took his hand, needing the contact.
“You should have told me you were going after him.”
“Would you have tried to stop me?”
“No.” She reached up and stroked the stubble that had grown in on his jaw in the last thirty-six hours. “I would have gone with you.”
“I didn’t want you anywhere near it.” Dom caught her hand, pressed it against his face. His skin felt hot against hers, feverish almost. “But your dad was there.”
Surprise jolted through her. “He was?”
“He’s the one who found Raines. Apparently, he still has connections.”
“He told me he was just consulting.” But, really, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her father had always operated in gray areas, even after his official retirement. “Is he okay?”
“He’s a force of nature, your dad.” He let go of her hand and moved to the living room, lowering himself to the couch with a sigh. “A terrifying force of nature. Remind me to never make him angry.”
“Aw, he’s a teddy bear.” She followed and settled beside him. Up close, the exhaustion in his face was even more pronounced. She resisted the urge to touch the dark shadows beneath his eyes, to smooth the lines of tension from his forehead.
Dom snorted. “Maybe to you. He told me he’d feed me to his pet alligator if I ever hurt you again.”
She laughed at that. “Boudreaux is three feet long and mostly toothless. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“He also asked me when I was going to marry you.”
Vivi froze. “He did what now?”
“Asked when I was going to marry you.” The corner of Dom’s mouth quirked up. “Right in the middle of tactical planning. In front of everyone.”
“God, he’s embarrassing.” She shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. Her father had never been one for subtlety. “What did you tell him?”
“That it was complicated.” Dom sighed and leaned his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes briefly.
Complicated.
She supposed it was that.
She studied his face, noted the way his jaw tightened when he shifted position. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Hurts like hell,” he admitted. “Tessa says I didn’t tear anything, but I’m going to pay for it in PT tomorrow.”
Vivi reached toward his injured shoulder, but stopped just short of touching it. “You shouldn’t have gone.”
“Had to.” He caught her hand and laced their fingers together again. “Needed to see it through.”
She nodded. She understood. Wasn’t sure she approved, but she got it because she knew him through and through. His unwavering commitment to seeing things through, no matter the cost to himself, was one of the things that had always drawn her to Dom, even when she was furious with him.
“Did it help?” she asked quietly. “Killing him?”
He was silent for a long moment, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the back of her hand. “It didn’t fix anything. But like your dad said, there’s one less asshole in the world now. He can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Did Daddy...” She hesitated, unsure how to frame the question.
“He didn’t pull the trigger.” Dom lifted his gaze to hers. “That was me.”
“Good.”
How can she be both relieved that her father hadn’t killed someone and glad that Dom had?
Messy.
All of it was so messy on top of being complicated.
They sat in silence for a moment, hands still linked between them. The clock on the mantel ticked steadily. Outside, a car horn blared and then faded.
“There’s something else,” Dom said finally. “Sabin thinks he saw Brennan while he was being held by Praetorian.”
“But Brennan’s dead.” The words came automatically. Everyone knew that. Dom’s cousin had been killed in action two years ago.
“That’s what we all thought.” Dom dragged his free hand down his face. “But Sabin was certain. And then when I confronted Raines about it... Viv, he reacted. It was small, but it was there. I think Brennan is alive.”
“Oh God. Does the family know?”
“Davey and Elliot. Sabin. And now your dad, because he was there when I confronted Raines. No one else.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find him.” The determination in Dom’s voice left no room for doubt. “Whatever it takes. If he’s out there, if Praetorian has him—has been conditioning him like they did Sabin—I’m going to bring him home.”
Another mission. Another fight. Another chance for him to put himself in the path of bullets meant for someone else. The thought should have exhausted her, but she knew how much this meant to him. She couldn’t ask him to sit this one out.
“Then I’m coming with you,” she said.
He began to shake his head, but she cut him off. “Don’t even start. If Brennan’s been through what Sabin has, I’m the only one who truly understands what it will take to bring him back.”
Dom’s gaze searched her face. “It could be dangerous.”
“When has that ever stopped me?” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, we work better as a team. You know that.”
The fight seemed to drain out of him. Whether from exhaustion or because he knew she was right, Vivi couldn’t tell.
“You should sleep,” she said, softer now. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“I am,” he admitted, but made no move to get up from the couch. Instead, he reached for her, tugging her closer until she was pressed against his good side. His arm curled around her waist, warm and solid. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.” She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar dark masculine scent of him.
“I’m serious.” His fingers traced idle patterns against her hip. “This thing we’re doing. Us.”
Vivi’s heart skipped. They’d been dancing around defining what they were for months now.
First because of their complicated history, then because of Sabin, then because of Raines.
There had always been something more pressing, something that gave them both the excuse to avoid putting words to what was happening between them.
“What about us?”
“You spend more nights here than at your own place.”
“I know.”
“Half your clothes are in my closet.”
“Not half.” Not even close, but she didn’t want to scare him.
“You reorganized my kitchen.”
“Because your system made no sense.” She’d spent an entire Sunday moving his dishes to more logical locations, color-coding his spice rack, and creating a coffee station that didn’t require three separate trips across the kitchen just to make a cup.
He smiled against her hair. “I’m just saying, it feels like you live here.”
“I guess I kind of do.” The realization wasn’t as scary as she’d expected it to be. In fact, it felt right. Natural. Like they’d been moving in this direction all along, even when they were fighting it.
“So maybe we should stop pretending you don’t.”
She lifted her head to look at him. His blue eyes were serious, intent despite the exhaustion lining his face. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“I’m saying you already have.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m just catching up to reality.”
She considered his words. He wasn’t wrong. What had started as crashing at his place after long days at WSW during Sabin’s recovery had evolved into something much more permanent without either of them acknowledging it.
“What if it doesn’t work?” The question slipped out before she could stop it—the fear she’d been carrying since Istanbul, since before that even. That whatever they built together would crumble again, leaving her more broken than before.
“What if it does?” He held her gaze. “Viv, I’m not the same man who hurt you before. And you’re not the same woman who walked away. We’ve both changed.”
“You still jump in front of bullets,” she pointed out.
“And you still pick locks you have no business picking.”
“Not... all the time anymore.”
He grinned and shifted to face her more fully, wincing slightly as his shoulder protested. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you here permanently. That I’m not counting the days until I can finally say what you wouldn’t let me say in that van.”
The van. When he was bleeding out. When she’d cut him off because she couldn’t bear to hear those words for the first time while he was dying.
“You can’t say it now either,” she whispered.
His face fell. “Viv—”
“Because I need to say it first.” She moved closer, taking his face between her hands. “After what you’ve done for my family. For Sabin. For me. I need to be the one who says it.”
She brushed her thumbs across his cheekbones, studying the familiar planes of his face—the scar above his eyebrow, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the stubble darkening his jaw.
“I love you, Dominic Wilde.” The words came easier than she’d expected. As natural as breathing. “I loved you even when I hated you for what you did. I loved you when I left. I loved you when I tried to forget you. And I love you now.”
He exhaled shakily, and his hands came up to cover hers. “Can I say it now?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I love you, Viv.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. “I never stopped. Not for a single day.”
It was the starkness of it—the truth, stripped of all decoration or apology—that broke her open and she couldn’t stop the rush of tears.
“We wasted so much time.”
“We have plenty more.” He thumbed away the tears and pressed his lips to her forehead. “And for the record, I do plan to marry you. Whenever you’re ready.”
The words should have terrified her. Should have sent her running for the door. They didn’t.
“How about tomorrow?” she heard herself say.
Dom blinked. “What?”
“Tomorrow. City hall. Just us.” The idea took root as she spoke and felt right in a way few things ever had. “Unless you want the whole Wilde family circus.”
“Jesus, no.” He looked stunned, but a smile was spreading across his face. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” She felt lighter than she had in years, as if some invisible weight had finally been lifted. “Life’s too short for long engagements. Especially in our line of work.”
Dom laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Tomorrow it is, then. City hall. Just us.”
“And maybe Sabin,” she amended. “If he’s having a good day.”
“And your dad, unless you want him hunting me down with Bordeaux.”
“Fine. Sabin and my dad. Mama, too. She’d be heartbroken if I got married without her.”
“Yeah, and my parents, too. And brothers.”
“And Rowan and Rue.” She leaned in to press her forehead against his. “I wouldn’t expect you to leave them out.”
“Right. But no one else.” His hand came up to cup the back of her neck, drawing her closer. “God, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered against his lips, the words still new enough to send a thrill through her. “Now take me to bed, future husband. You need to rest that shoulder if we’re getting married tomorrow.”
Dom stood and pulled her up with him. “Yes, ma’am.”
As he led her down the familiar hallway to their bedroom—because it was theirs now, fully and completely—Vivi felt the final pieces of her world shifting into place.
Raines was dead. Sabin was healing. And tomorrow, she would marry the man she’d never stopped loving, even when she’d tried her hardest to.
Some things, it seemed, were simply meant to be.