Page 230 of Celestial Combat

Maria sat at the island counter, barefoot and already halfway through a bowl of tropical fruit. Zach sat beside her, hair damp from the pool and a relaxed smile playing on his face as he leaned in form time to time, Maria hand-feeding him small bites of her fruit.

Trevor lounged across them with a mug of coffee, cracking jokes like he hadn’t tried to break Zane’s ribs an hour ago.

“Finally,” Maria said with dramatic flair, lifting her mug in a toast. “Was starting to think you got lost in that towel.”

“Bro!” Trevor exclaimed, though all in good fun. “I ain’t trinna hear that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they had sex before we showed up.”

“Zach.” Trevor groaned turning to her boyfriend, who shrugged in response.

“She’s probably right.”

“Oh, my God…” Trevor dropped his head to the island, covering his ears, making us laugh at him.

“Now you know how I feel with you and Natalia making out all the time.”I walked past them, stealing a grape from Trevor’s plate just to be annoying.

Zane brushed my back as he moved to the other side of the island, grabbing a bottle of water.?

It felt easy again – like it always used to. Just the five of us. Still alive, still breathing, still finding pockets of peace between chaos.

No tension. No sideways glances. No grudges.

Just the scent of sweet papaya, the distant sound of waves rolling against the shore, and sunlight stretching like melted gold across the tile floor.

“We’ll stay the rest of the day and hang out,” Trevor said. “And we’ll head back to New York tomorrow morning. I miss Natalia.”

I hugged my brother, and he wrapped an arm around me too.

“You’re such a simp,” I laughed, ruining the moment.

“No.I’m devoted.”

“Okay, attitude.”

I laughed when he almost caught me in a headlock, barely managing to escape.

There was sun. And fruit. And the sound of laughter echoing against the open windows.

Chapter 60

2 WEEKS LATER

Present

Brooklyn, New York City

The scent of cardboard and fresh paint lingered in the air as I stepped around half-unpacked boxes. It was the end of January, the sky outside a flat silver gray, Brooklyn quiet beneath a thin veil of frost. Sunlight came through the massive windows, warm even in the late winter.

Zane’s loft still felt like him – clean lines, dark wood, steel fixtures – but now, it had pieces ofmestitched into every corner. My blue Porsche was parked downstairs like it belonged next to his matte black Aston Martin and vintage Camaro.

The living room already had a lived-in look. My favorite fluffy blanket and all the plushies Zane had won for me – my beloved seal from Christmas and the bowtie cat from Tokyo – had taken center stage on the massive gray couch.

Talking to my parents had gone surprisingly smooth. Probably because Trevor stood next to me the entire time like a human shield, clearing the path with that calm-but-lethal head-of-the-family energy. They’d taken it suspiciously well, honestly.But then again, Zane had been loyal for almost two decades, and they’d always respected him. Always liked him.

I think what really softened them was the fact I was finally getting involved in the family business.

But they didn’t know everything. Not about Russia or Tokyo. Not the blood we’d spilled together. They just saw that I was happy; steady. And maybe that was enough.