Page 230 of Dance of Defiance

“Well, you’re a moody, grumpy fuck, did you knowthat?”

I smile wider. “Yeah. You?”

“Same.” He winks at me. “I also know I love you.”

“Oddly enough,” I murmur, “Iloveyou.”

And then I grab the back of his head and sear my lips to his.

EPILOGUE

VAL

Six months later:

“You’resure you want to do this?”

I smirk at the stoic, serious expression on Roman’s face. I mean, it’s a situation thatdoeswarrant serious and stoic. But I’m choosing to look at it as a celebration instead.

“Will you stop being so fucking serious about it?”

He scowls. “Itisserious, Val. I mean it’s a surgical procedure.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but it’s a surgical procedure like getting stitched up after a fight is surgical procedure.” I shift on the medical gurney, tugging at the not-so-comfortable hospital gown. “Relax. I’ll be in and out in time for us to go get dinner.”

His brow knits. “Why don’t we skip the restaurant, and just eat at the hotel?—”

“Roman.”

He exhales. “I’mjustasking if you’re sure.”

“Well, we flew all the way here,” I shrug. “Can’t back out now.”

The nurse steps in and smiles. “Herr Bancroft?” She says in her heavy accent. “Ve are ready for you now.”

An orderly walk in, unlocks the wheels of my gurney, and starts to wheel me out. Roman swallows, grabbing my hand.

“I’ll be right there waiting for you,” he mutters, his eyes searching mine.

I wink. “I know you will, wreckage.”

“It…doesn’t look bad, actually.”Roman’s brows arch from across the table as I lift the short sleeves of my button up and peel away the bandage.

“Right?” I shrug. “I mean, it’s fresh, so it looks rough. But the swelling should go down in a few weeks.” I wink. “And then it's time for some new ink.”

Once upon a time, I was ashamed of the letters carved into my arm, so I covered it with chaos and anger, myriad lines crisscrossing to obscure the word and the scars.

As I got older, I began to accept that part of my body. I neverforgotwhat was there, but I could live with it.

But then, a month or so ago, I saw an article about a doctor who was using a new experimental treatment—a mix of lasers, dermal abrasions, and mad-scientist surgical skills—to remove scars from the body. And when I saw that his offices were inVienna, of all places?

Fuckin’kismet.

So here we are.

My armdoeshurt—more than I’ll ever admit to Roman. But fuck, it feels amazing not to have that brand on my body anymore. The skin won’t ever be smooth and “normal”. It’ll look more like a shiny burn spot. But it’ll be without the scars and the chaotic ink, and I'll have room for thenewink I’m getting there.

Roman sighs, shaking his head at me. “You’re not seriously going to get it tattooed there, are you?”