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For a moment, he doesn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then his hand finds my chin, tilting my face upward. I suck in a careful breath, holding his gaze.

“And I belong to you,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet.

“Show me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Use me however you like.”

His eyes glint, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Happily.”

It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago, he walked into that bar, midnight blue eyes looking at me with so much hate. Now, looking into them, I see nothing but adoration.

Outside, the world rages on, but it feels distant. Senna is made from chaos. It thrives on imbalance and imperfection, but in Rowan’s arms, I’ve found my anchor. I’m his completely.

Tonight, and always.

Epilogue: Rowan

FIVE MONTHS LATER

The soft beat of rhythmic rap music threads through the dimly lit bar, wrapping around the steady murmur of conversations. Serene Tiger is unrecognizable from the dusty ruin it once was. Alex and Halle have turned it into something extraordinary—a space where polished wood meets sleek leather, golden light fixtures cast warm, inviting glows, and the air carries the subtle scents of cedar, tobacco, and expensive craft whiskey.

At the bar, Alex works with practiced ease, sliding a drink across to a customer with one hand while taking an order with the other. Tina, one of the bartenders, hums along to the music as she mixes a cocktail. Her smooth voice will take the stage in an hour, but for now, she’s all business.

“Hey, Sugar,” she greets me warmly with a wink.

I’m not one to blush, but something about being called ‘Sugar’by her makes me all warm inside. “Hey Tina,” I call.

Alex glances up and spots me as I take a seat at the bar. A grin breaks across his face, one of those smiles that makes my chest feel lighter no matter the day I’ve had.

“Hey,” he says, leaning on the marble counter. “What are you doing here?”

I tilt my head, feigning offence. “Not happy to see me?”

His grin widens as he leans in to kiss me, his lips soft and familiar. “Always. I just didn’t expect you. I was hoping to surprise you at home later.”

“Oh?”

He straightens, the glint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “I had a plan. Can’t tell you now, though.”

Before I can press him, his gaze shifts past my shoulder. “Ah. I see.”

I turn to find Xander and Hayden entering the bar. As always, their presence pulls in attention. A pair of women having drinks, openly stare, whispering to each other. Hayden, as usual, looks polished and composed in perfectly tailored clothes, while Xander wears his leather jacket and his messy hair like he gets paid to look like every bad guy from every movie ever made.

Alex leans close, pouting. “You’re not here for me.”

“I was,” I tease. “But they insisted on meeting here instead of The Serpentine.”

He hums, sceptical. “Fine. But you owe me later.”

I wink and leave the bar, weaving through the tables to where my brothers have claimed a corner booth.

The past few months have been exhausting, to say the least. After our father’s failed coup, I had his operations quickly dismantled. The warehouse where he’d been producing Haze was the first to go—every ounce of product destroyed, every scrap of Hawthorne’s research incinerated. Haze was an unstable drug and whilst most drugs are just as dangerous, the last thing I needed was something else to agitate the clans and Senna.

Our father, however, remains confined to his private cell beneath The Serpentine. I don’t know what state he’s in, neither do I want to know. He could be severely maimed by now and I wouldn’t care. To me, Jonathan Vasilyev is dead.

“Ro,” Xander says as I slide into the booth. He pulls out a cigarette, only to sigh and put it back when he spots my raised eyebrow. Alex and Halle have a strict no-smoking policy here and I’d rather not face Halle’s wrath today.

“Alex has you perfectly house-trained, I see,” Hayden says, smirking.

“Oh, he’s totally whipped. It’s disgusting,” Xander says.