Page 140 of Desperate Games

A toast. A warning.

Maybe both.

But it doesn’t matter.

Andy leans into me, whispering with a smile only I get to see, “Told you we’d survive this.”

And I grin back, knowing survival isn’t the word.

We’re not surviving.

We’re conquering.

Together.

“I love you, Andy.”

“I love you back. Always and forever, Remy.”

Hell fucking yeah.

Always and forever.

Epilogue Three-Atlas

I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women all my life.

Models, actresses, courtesans who would sell their souls for a taste of my money or the whisper of my last name.

But this one?

This woman is not beautiful.

She is devastating.

She’s tall—five foot ten, at least—with an hourglass figure that would make Aphrodite herself jealous.

Not the lean, sharp-edged elegance I’m accustomed to, but something thicker, richer, built for sin.

A body meant to ruin a man. Or a prince.

Her lips are painted red, a shade that looks less like lipstick and more like a battle cry.

Her nose glints with a ring, and both ears glitter with four piercings each, the studs catching the light like weapons hidden in plain sight.

And her hair—God, her hair.

A riot of curls cropped short at her neck, tumbling in shades that shift from black to russet when she moves.

Wild. Untamable. Dangerous.

But her eyes are the worst.

Black as midnight.

Temptation sharpened into a blade. Eyes that don’t just look at you—they strip you bare and demand to know what kind of man you really are.

I know what kind I am.