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“Thank you,” I breathe, kissing Ryker’s heart. “For believing me. For doing what no one else would.”

His arms tighten around me protectively. “Always, Mischief. Always.”

As sleep begins to claim me, I feel lighter than I have in years. The weight of my past has been lifted, replaced by something new—something that looks suspiciously like a future. A future with Ryker built on the ashes of what came before.

It’s not perfect. It’s not normal. But it’s ours, and somehow, that’s enough.

35

RYKER

The doorbell chimes, and my shoulders tense. I check the security camera on my phone—Jenna stands on our doorstep, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, clutching a bottle of wine.

Fucking perfect.

“She’s here,” I call to Kira, who’s arranging flowers at the dining table.

The look Kira gives me—half warning, half pleading—makes me force a smile. For her, I’ll try. For her, I’d do anything.

I still see flashes of Kira from three nights ago—her face illuminated by the screen of my phone as she looked at her uncle’s lifeless face. The way her body trembled against mine as the reality set in. She whispered “thank you” against my lips before kissing me with raw emotion. Christ, I’ve never been so in love in my entire life.

My Kira. My beautiful, complicated, savage Kira.

But now Jenna threatens our bubble. She’s been suspicious since Kira returned, asking too many questions.

I open the door, standing tall in the frame, blocking Jenna’s view into our home. My home. Our territory.

“Jenna.” I extend my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Jen!” Kira appears, wrapping her arms around Jenna in a hug that makes my stomach clench. I don’t like how Kira melts into the embrace; her body relaxes in a way it should only do with me.

They pull apart, and Jenna’s gaze meets mine over Kira’s shoulder. Something passes between us—knowledge, challenge, a silent war declaration. She knows I’m not what I pretend to be. And I know she’d take Kira away if given half a chance.

“Come in, come in.” Kira ushers her friend inside, touching my arm as they pass.

I close the door, my fingers lingering on the lock. One turn, and I could secure us, lock Jenna in the basement, keep the outside world at bay, and keep Kira safe with me where she belongs.

But I know Kira wouldn’t allow it, so I leave it unlocked.

I watch Jenna like a hawk as she moves through our space, touching things, examining photos, and invading our sanctuary. Whenever she whispers something to Kira that makes her laugh, my jaw tightens. Kira’s laughter belongs to me now.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Kira calls from the kitchen. "Ryker, can you pour the wine?"

I move to the task, calculating exactly how much wine would be needed to drug Jenna if necessary. Old habits.

“So,” Jenna’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she leans against the counter. “You two met at GamerCon?”

The lie we’ve constructed sits ready on my tongue. “Yes.”

“Kira hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Jenna says, her eyes never leaving mine. “It’s like she’s under a spell.”

I smile. “Is that so bad?”

“Depends on who cast it.”

Dinner progresses with forced pleasantries. I observe how Jenna watches Kira’s mannerisms, noting changes and cataloging differences. She’s protective—not unlike me, just without my methods.

Halfway through the meal, Kira excuses herself to the bathroom. The moment she’s gone, the pretense drops.