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you are the man I never saw coming,
and the one I will never let go.
You are the fire in my blood,
the anchor in my storms,
the light I found in the dark
when I thought I’d never come home again.
I am yours,
completely,
unconditionally,
and I will love you —
no matter what hell or heaven waits for us next.”
His eyes burn into mine, his hands tighten, and when we kiss — it’s like coming up for air after drowning. Like every second we were apart collapses into this one perfect, brutal, achingly beautiful moment, where we choose each other. Again. And again. And again.
The cheers go up — Mia and Jacklyn crying, Allegra whistling, Tayana wiping her eyes. Even Mason lets the corner of his mouth twitch into something that almost looks like a smile.
And as Saxon lifts me into his arms, his mouth brushing my ear, he whispers,
“So, Mrs. North… ready to spend the rest of your life with me?”
I laugh, breathless, pressing my face into his neck, and whisper back,
“Always.”
The sun dips low,painting the sky in strokes of rose and gold, and the celebration spills from the gazebo into the yard, where laughter tangles with the drifting scent of catered food and the low hum of clinking glasses.
Mia twirls barefoot in the grass, her hair catching the last light of the day, her laughter spilling out like music. She leans lazily against Brando’s side, her fingers tracing idle shapes on his chest as he murmurs something low to her, his smile small but real, a rare crack in the hardened face of a man who’s seen too much.
Jacklyn tosses her head back, laughing at something Lucky says, her grin wicked and fierce, while Lucky watches her like she’s the only thing worth watching, his eyes soft in a way they never are in public.
Scar lingers at the edge, arms folded, expression carved from stone, but when Allegra slips her arm around his waist, he leans down, presses a kiss to the top of her head, and the whole world shifts just slightly.
Mason nurses a drink at a corner table, brooding and grumbling, but when Shelby joins him, nestling close, his mouth curves at the edges, and I swear, even Mason Ironside lets himself soften tonight.
Saxon’s hand is wrapped firmly around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, his eyes never straying far from me, like he still can’t quite believe I’m real, that this is real, that after all the fire and ruin, we’re still standing here.
We walk through the party, family pressing in on all sides, toasts raised, jokes flying, and for the first time in forever, I feelwhole. Not because the past is erased. Not because the scars havevanished. But because wesurvived. Because we’re here. Because this — this messy, loud, fierce, imperfect family — is ours.
Later, when the stars come out and the air cools, I step away for a moment, lifting my face to the sky. The clouds part, the moon spilling silver light across the estate, and I close my eyes, swearing I can almost feel her there.
Sophia.
Like a whisper on the wind, like the echo of a laugh carried through time, and I smile softly, because I know — deep in my bones — she would’ve approved. She would’ve loved Saxon. She would’ve told me, in that sweet, wicked voice, that I’d finally found the one man who could stand in the fire beside me and not back down.
Saxon finds me there, his arms sliding around my waist, his mouth pressing to the curve of my shoulder.
“What are you thinking, baby?” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, like the night has pulled something tender from him.
I lean back against him, closing my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, the feel of him, theforeverof him.
“I’m thinking,” I whisper, soft and sure, “that we made it.”
And as the party flickers behind us — as the Gatti brothers laugh, and the wives dance, and the night settles like a prayer over everything we’ve built — Saxon holds me, strong and steady, his heartbeat thrumming against my back, and I know, with every inch of my soul, this is the end of one story — and the beginning of every beautiful, brutal, breathtaking one still to come.