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“Roan!” I don’t know if it’s a plea or a warning.

Her pace quickens. Faster. Rougher. My body chases hers, hips rutting up into every stroke, every grinding thrust. Her moans are right in my ear, low and ragged, and they drive memad.

I clutch at her hips, guiding her, begging silently for more. The sound of our slick cunts grinding fills the air, joined by our breathless cries. She fucks me like she needs it. Likeweneed it.

And we do.

My climax rises hard and fast—like a wave that’s been building for too long. My body tightens, back arching, fingers clawing at her shoulders.

She thrusts one last time, crying out as she comes with me. Her voice breaks, and I swear the world breaks with it.

We’re still tangled, still gasping, when I finally collapse beneath her. Our skin sticks together. Our thighs tremble. My chest heaves against hers.

When we finally still, tangled in each other beneath the soft hush of firelight, there’s no more room for fear. Only the quiet beat of her heart beneath my palm, the slow rise and fall of our breathing.

Roan presses a kiss to my shoulder, then to my temple. “Aria,” she breathes, voice thick with sleep and something softer. Something that curls around my ribs and refuses to let go. “Say it again.”

My heart thuds gently, steady and certain. “Say what?” I whisper, my lips brushing against the curve of her collarbone.

“Say that you love me,” she pleads, quiet, raw.

“I love you,” I murmur against her skin. “I love you.”

She exhales like the words undo her.

Tomorrow, the world might start spinning again. But here, in the quiet warmth of her arms, everything is still.

I press one last kiss to her chest, just above the steady beat of her heart. It’s slow. Strong.Hers.

“I’m not running anymore,” I remind her, voice low but certain.

Roan’s fingers tighten gently around mine. “Good. Because I’d only chase you down.”

I smile, eyes fluttering shut, her words settling in my chest like a vow.

Every part of me hums with the echo of her touch—my skin still tingling where her hands had lingered, where her mouth had claimed me. I feel marked, not just by pleasure, but bybelonging. Loved. Chosen.

The hunger I’ve carried for years— for freedom, for safety, for something that felt like home—

It’s quiet now.

Because I found it.

In her.

Epilogue

Roan

Wegrowvegetablesnow.

I still can’t say it with a straight face.

Every morning, Aria’s out in the little garden we dug behind the cottage, barefoot in the dew-damp grass, hair a mess, cloak tossed over the fence. She hums to herself as she waters the tomatoes like they’re sacred, muttering encouragement to the carrots like we’ll take it personally if they wilt.

She told me once it’s her way of keepingmefed. Said it with that half-smile of hers, the one that tugs at my chest every damn time.You do so much for me,she said.This is something I can do for you.

As if she hadn’t already given me more than I ever thought I could have.