Page 121 of Desperate Games

“Yes—yours,” I sob, bliss breaking me wide open.

I feel him pulse again, feel the warmth of his seed spreading, dripping, as his body cages mine.

And I know—I’ll never play games with this man’s heart again.

He is the only man for me. Forever. For always.

And I’m keeping him.

I’m keeping our family.

I don’t know how long we lay there afterward—skin damp, breaths tangled, hearts still racing in the same wild rhythm.

But I know this: I’ve never felt so alive.

It isn’t just the way Remy touched me, claimed me, made me come undone again and again until I was nothing but his.

It’s what came after, when he whispered my name against my temple, his hand protectively splayed over the curve of my belly like he was holding both me and our babies in place.

That’s when it settled in me.

I didn’t just give him permission. I gave him my allegiance. My loyalty. My heart.

And it feels right.

Because what is marriage, really, if not choosing someone fully—darkness and all?

My father used to tell us kids that power was always dangerous. But what mattered most was who you wielded it for.

Remy? He wields his for me. For Callie. For the babies. For us.

I trace idle circles on his chest with my fingertip, and he kisses my hair, whispering something low and filthy that makes me giggle even as I blush.

For a few blissful days, we live like that—closer than ever, stronger, unstoppable.

Until the call comes.

We get the news early, the morning before Callie wakes up.

Julio Castillo—coward, monster, manipulator—has been granted visitation.

Christmas Eve.

At our house.

I feel the words like a blade in my stomach. For a moment, devastation presses down, thick and suffocating.

The idea of that man stepping foot into the home we’ve built, looking at Callie with his greedy eyes, trying to stake a claim he doesn’t deserve—my blood runs cold.

Remy is pacing, fury rolling off him in waves, phone in his hand like he’s one breath away from crushing it.

And me?

I should fall apart. I should collapse under the weight of it.

But instead, something hardens in me.

A core of steel I didn’t know I had.