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Not really.

But somehow, that scrap of paper survived where so much else didn’t.

Through the betrayals.

Through the wars.

Through the nights we bled and fought and lost too much.

I turn away from the glass, my footsteps echoing through the hollow quiet of Ruairi’s office.The house is still, heavy with the ghosts of what it took to survive.Some mornings, it feels like they press close to the walls, breathing down my neck, waiting to see what we’ll do with the world we stole back.

Outside, the sky hangs low and silver, bleeding pale light across the Belfast hills like a wound refusing to close.I step onto the patio, the cold stone biting into my bare feet, a steaming mug of tea clutched tight between my hands.

Across the wide stretch of grass, Eamon runs with two small, shrieking girls tumbling in his wake.Saoirse, almost four now, has her mother’s stubbornness and my brother’s fiery, defiant eyes.Maeve, who’s just shy of two, trips on the uneven ground.Eamon scoops her up, spinning her high against the washed-out morning until she erupts in wild, breathless giggles.

Uncail Eamon.That’s what they call him.A man who’s ordered more deaths than most could imagine, brought to his knees by sticky fingers and ungoverned joy.A wolf who let himself be tamed—only for them.

I sip my tea, letting the heat anchor me against the chill pressing in from the hills.My heart is quiet now.Scarred but full.

Bridget still doesn’t trust me.Not fully.Maybe she never will.She’s never said the words aloud, but I see it sometimes in the hesitation between her smiles, in the shift of her gaze when she thinks I’m not looking.The wound I carved between us never truly healed.It simply stopped bleeding.

I don’t blame her.I kept her husband in a pit and made choices she’ll never be able to understand.Time has softened the edges of that wound.The rage has faded.The sharp grief dulled.But we’re not who we once were.We walk beside each other now, not hand in hand, but close enough.

I love her daughters like they’re my own.I’d lay my life down for them.And Bridget knows that.If nothing else, she knows that.

Today, she’s bringing two more into the world, twin boys that will be born into a legacy forged in blood, stitched with loyalty, and the bone-deep will to survive.

Ruairi called me this morning."She’s almost there," he said, voice tight with nerves he didn’t bother trying to hide."I wish you could be here."

But we all agreed that Eamon and I would stay with the girls.Today’s meant for laughter, for running feet and high, shrieking joy.For letting them have a few stolen hours untouched by the darkness we carry.

Even if it’s only for a few hours.

Our world is quieter now.Not peaceful.Not safe.But settled the way a grave settles after the earth stops mourning.

The Quigley and O’Sullivan Syndicates remain separate in name, but in practice, we rule Ireland side by side.Two empires, woven at the seams.

I hold Dublin in my hands.Ruairi commands Belfast.And Eamon—he grips everything else in his fist like a blade he’s never once considered dropping.

Our love doesn’t live in soft glances or whisperedI love yousat sunrise.It breathes in shadows.It sharpens itself in silence.It’s loyalty worn like a second skin, a weapon drawn without hesitation.

It’s not gentle.It’s not sweet.It’s not safe.It’s a fire that devours, daring even the gods to look away.A love born of blood and strategy, of secrets we never needed to confess, of sins neither of us would repent for even at the gates of hell.

I once read:We loved with a love that was more than love.And now, I understand.Because what exists between Eamon and me is not tenderness.It’s something older, deeper.Something brutal.Immortal.

We’re no longer merely man and woman.We’re a kingdom of two crowned in ruin, built on the bones of every soul who tried to tear us apart.

He’s the darkness I chose.And I’m the blade he welcomed into his hand.We sharpen each other until nothing remains but steel and devotion.We trust no one but each other.

And when the time comes, if it comes, we’ll bleed for each other.We’ll die for each other.

But not today.Not while the girls are laughing.Not while the sky still dares to soften for us.

Today, there is no blood.

Today, there is power.

Today, there is love—raw and undefeated.

And I would choose this life again.

A thousand times over.

With him.

Always.

The End