Page 135 of Gilded Locks

“You still good?” Ash asked, but breathing was all she could manage, so he brushed a finger along her temple where a tear had slid. “It’s done.”

The scent of burning skin should have horrified her, but in her mind, that was the smell of commitment. This was the wedding they could never have, the promises written in flesh that nothing but death could dissolve.

They removed the strap from her mouth and gently helped her sit up. Stone brought her a glass of water which she gratefully sipped. They hovered at her side, watching her cautiously, as if waiting for her to condemn them.

When the glass was empty, she handed it off to Ash and asked, “How does it look?”

“Perfect,” Hunter growled, his thumb stroking over her cheek to wipe away a tear. “So fucking perfect.”

She smiled, glad to see he’d come around. “See, I knew you’d like it.”

“How could I not?” He gently kissed her eyes and whispered, “It’s only the sight of your pain that rips me to pieces, but your bravery…that’s a sight to behold, Lisichka.”

The pain would fade, but the mark would remain forever. Evidence of her choice. Proof of their claim. A testament to something that transcended ownership—mutual possession, complete and irreversible.

They’d given her what the Whitmore and her family had tried to steal—agency, choice, and the power to make her own decisions.

“Fuck. Look at that. Look at her.” Stone’s voice was heavy with reverence. His hands were infinitely gentle as he dressed the wound, applying more of the cooling salve to the brand.

“Wait, I want to see.”

Ash carried a mirror closer, angling it toward the one hanging on the closest wall. Outside the gilded ballroom, snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in pristine white that spoke of new beginnings and clean slates. But inside, Marigold had never felt warmer.

“Can you see?” Ash tipped the mirror.

Her lips parted at the distinct outline of a bear. “It’s just like yours.”

“Ours,” Hunter said roughly, voice thick with emotion.

Her gaze found theirs in the mirror. “Moi tri medvedya,” she whispered. My three bears.

Three sets of eyes shimmered with moisture.

Three dangerous men brought to tears by her surrender.

They were now etched into her skin. Permanently linked by beautiful scars.

As they held her, careful of the fresh brand, she felt the truth of their love settle into her bones. She was theirs. And they were hers. Together forever. Just right.

And they lived happily—and wickedly—ever after…

* * *

THE END