Page 124 of Doomed

“We need to get going,” Aurora explains, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “My feet are killing me, and I can barely keep my eyes open these days.”

“Six months pregnant and she insisted on coming,” Gage says, his hand moving to support Aurora’s lower back. There’s pride in his voice, but also a tension that never fully leaves him.

“Worth it to see everyone,” Aurora insists, though she leans heavily against him.

I notice how they both carry themselves—like they’re bracing for something to go wrong even in this moment of celebration. They took longer than the others to have kids.

“Get her home,” I tell Gage, clapping him on the shoulder. “Take care of your girl.”

I spot Bianca across the room, deep in conversation with Flora, Colt, and Nash. The trio always draws her attention—not just because they’re a fascinating study in contrasts, but because she’s curious about their arrangement. I grab my drink and make my way over.

“Birthday boy,” Colt greets me with a predatory smile as I slide onto the couch next to Bianca. “We were just telling your girl about our latest show.”

“The one where Nash hung upside down for twenty minutes?” I drape my arm around Bianca’s shoulders, feeling her lean into me. “Or the one where you nearly broke your neck trying to impress Flora?”

Nash’s lips curve into a rare smile. “That was quite the performance,” he says, his voice soft as ever. His hand rests possessively on Flora’s thigh while his other arm stretches behind Colt, fingers idly tracing patterns on his shoulder.

“Worth it,” Colt shrugs, completely unashamed. “Made for a hell of an after-party.” The look he exchanges with Nash is charged with meaning.

Flora blushes slightly, her eyes dropping to her lap before she glances up at Bianca. “They’re incorrigible,” she murmurs, but the affection in her voice is unmistakable.

I notice the fascination in Bianca’s eyes as she watches them interact. She’s been curious about their three-way relationship ever since our first session with Jenson. She loves our occasional adventures—the way a third person heightens everything between us—but I know she doesn’t want what they have. Not permanently.

“Bianca was asking how we manage jealousy,” Flora explains, leaning slightly into Nash while reaching for Colt’s hand.

“It’s not about jealousy,” Nash says, his eyes flickering between his partners. “It’s about belonging.”

Colt nods. “We’re all pieces of the same puzzle. Take one away, and the picture’s incomplete.”

Bianca’s fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing gently. It’s her silent way of telling me she understands the difference. What we have with Jenson is just play—hot, intense, mind-blowing play—but at the end of the night, it’s always just us.

“You two ever think about making it a regular thing?” Colt asks bluntly, earning an elbow from Flora.

“We like our adventures,” I answer, meeting Bianca’s eyes. “But we’re good as we are.”

Bianca smiles up at me, and I see everything I need in that look. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Everything else is just seasoning on an already perfect meal.

42

EPILOGUE

BIANCA

The wind whips around us as Knox’s motorcycle speeds along the winding road. My arms are wrapped tight around his waist, my cheek pressed against his leather jacket. One year since the Hunt changed everything, and I get the same thrill every time I climb onto the back of this bike with him.

“Almost there,” Knox shouts over the roar of the engine. I can hear the smile in his voice.

I squeeze him tighter in response. He’s been secretive all day, refusing to tell me where we’re going, just that he has a surprise. The familiar curves of the road tell me we’re heading to Eagle Point, and warmth unfurls in my chest.

The bike slows as we reach the turnoff, the path now familiar after countless visits. This place has become ours in a way I never expected—the spot where Knox first showed me a glimpse of his real self, beyond the arrogant playboy facade.

Knox brings the motorcycle to a stop, cutting the engine. The sudden silence feels deafening as I swing my leg over and stand, reaching up to remove my helmet.

“Wait,” Knox says, catching my hands before I can lift my helmet off. “Not yet.”

“Knox,” I laugh, my voice muffled inside the helmet. “What’s going on? I can barely see anything.”

He takes my hand, guiding me forward carefully. “Just a few steps.”