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C ONSCIOUSNESS RETURNED in fragmented pieces. The cold hard floor beneath his back. The taste of ash in his mouth. And the tightness around his wrists, rope biting into his skin, and slowly cutting off circulation.

Cold floor beneath his back. The taste of ash in his mouth. Rope cutting into his wrists.

Sylvain kept his breathing steady, his eyes closed as he assessed his situation. The air smelled of pine and damp earth. Silence...except for wood crackling in a fireplace nearby.

He risked opening his eyes a fraction. A log cabin, rustic but well-maintained, and through the window, a glimpse of dense forest...and stone gargoyles.

Marchettis.

Where the gargoyles were, New England's most powerful famille followed, and so that meant...

Boston.

It was the Marchettis' stronghold, which was also an eight-hour flight from Paris. A lot could happen in eight hours. Not just to him. But...

Focus, Sauvage.

The sooner he was out of here, the sooner he would get to...her.

Une chose à la fois. One thing at a time.

A quick assessment of his bonds revealed amateur work, and he was able to free himself in moments. He got to his feet, intending to search for weapons—

NO.

The sound of explosion, ripping through the quiet forest, followed by birds screeching in panicked flight.

Liana.

He ran. Faster than his body would be able to sustain. Pushing his lungs beyond its capacity. All he could think about was her.

No, no, no.

The warehouse, or what remained of it, appeared through the trees. Half the structure had collapsed, the other half still submerged in infernal heat. And on the ground, shattered pieces of what were once stone gargoyles, fire turning their marred features into twisted smiles of agony.

"Liana!"

Heat singed his skin as he searched through the wreckage. But he felt nothing. Didn't care about anything except her.

S'il te pla?t, mon Dieu.

He could not remember praying like this, not even that day he himself had been captured. But right now, he was willing to do anything. Everything. Even if it meant trusting what could not be seen—

S'il te pla?t...

And that was when he heard it. A soft coughing sound from beneath a partially collapsed desk, and Sylvain worked like a madman, splinters piercing his flesh as he charged through flame-licked debris that took him closer and closer to Hell.

Not today, Satan.

Because he had finally found her, curled up and covered in dust and soot.

But alive.

Her eyes fluttered open as he crashed on his knees in relief.

"S-Sylvain?"

" Oui ." His voice was hoarse, his hands shaking as he cupped her face. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, and he gathered her in his arms, cradling her against his chest.

"I thought I'd die."

"I won't let you."

A shaken laugh, but even with her still pale and shaking, her dazed blue eyes revealed the truth.

What he said, she believed, and in that moment, he also saw the truth in his own heart.

Je l'aime. I love her.

It no longer mattered whether she would prove loyal or not. Suitable or unsuitable.

He loved her. Unconditionally. And he always would.

****

B Y THE TIME SHE REGAINED consciousness, they were in a cave, and he had a fire burning.

"S-Sylvain..."

He watched her slowly sit up. He had already checked her for injuries, had only found small cuts and grazes. Bruises that would later darken into being. Nothing serious, and that was good...since what he was about to tell her would cause her a different kind of pain.

"I'm sorry, Liana." It took everything in him to keep his distance. "All of this is my fault."

"I don't understand."

"Today was supposed to be a test."

"For what?"

"For you."

"I see."

His chest tightened. Because her eyes showed that she wasn't lying. She did see the truth, and that was how he was unable to trust her without proof.

"Everything that happened, however..." Sylvain forced himself to continue because she deserved no less. "The person I asked to conduct the tests was a friend of mine. But someone else interfered."

"Your enemy?"

" Non ."

" Then...my brother's."

Sylvain froze. She knew about Biancardi?

A smile wobbled to his wife's lips. "The tests you mentioned..." Her voice was steady, but he could hear the effort it took. "They gave me one, too. Asked me to draw a map and sketch the layout of your place. Or they'd kill me."

The devil was up to its old tricks again , Sylvain found himself thinking.

But this time, he would not let it win.

"It doesn't matter—"

"I think it does."

"Pourquoi?" Why?

"Because they gave me an incentive to betray you."

Ah.

"That's how you found out about your brother."

" Oui ."

His mind played back her words.

They...asked me...or they'd kill me.

And since only an idiot would think that the explosion was designed to save his wife's life—

"Pourquoi?" Why?

He hated how he ended up repeating himself, but shock had him incapable of saying anything more complex.

Why did she not betray him...like Annie had?

"Do you...do you rreally not know?" His wife...was actually teasing him even as she started to cry. "Or a-are you just playing dumb?"

How could this be true?

"You s-said you wanted a woman who was strong and courageous."

Mon Dieu, non.

"And t-that's why—"

Sylvain could no longer control himself, and a sob escaped her lips as he closed the distance between them, Sylvain falling on his back as he pulled his wife into his arms.

"I—"

He pulled her head down, his mouth cutting her off with a hard kiss. And when he released her, he made sure not to let her say the words—

"I love you, Liana."

Because he wanted to be the first one to say them.

Her eyes teared.

"Sylvain."

It was just his name she uttered.

But ah, the way she said it.

Sylvain heard a thousand promises embedded in his name, and something inside him broke and healed simultaneously...even as his fingers gripped her hair, and his body throbbed with a savage need to possess the most precious thing this world could ever offer him.

"Je t'aime."

He needed to say the words one more time before taking her mouth in another kiss, this one deeper and hungrier, and one that had her whimpering even as she kissed him back and pressed her body more closely to his.

His hands roamed her body even though he knew it was sheer insanity to touch her with both their lives on the line.

"Sylvain."

His name, this time, was a breathy little gasp, both a plea to stop and not stop as he found the heat between her legs.

"S-Sylvain..."

She started rubbing herself against him, and just as he felt himself swell beneath his pants—

They heard someone curse from a distance, the sound yanking both of them back to reality, their passion cooling in an instant—

à quoi je pensais? What was I thinking?

"You make me act like a boy," Sylvain whispered into her ear, and her body rocked against his in silent, shaken laughter.

He allowed another moment to pass, just one more moment to savor the feeling of having his wife safe in his arms—and then they moved.

He didn't even have to tell her what to do. It was as if they had always been designed to work in tandem, with his wife knowing instinctively when to help...or when to step back and get out of his way.

They retreated deeper into the cave, away from the entrance and the voices. The passage narrowed, then widened again, revealing what he'd suspected—this was no natural formation. The smooth walls, the even floor...all carved by human hands, and eventually, they found a light at the end of the tunnel, figuratively speaking.

Liana had already pulled a pin out and made short work of the lock. In moments, the metal door swung open, and she stepped back, letting him inspect the bunker for traps.

He nodded. Clear.

They moved from room to room, finding supplies that had been untouched for decades, but still usable. Only one other area in the bunker was inaccessible, its lock more complex than anything he had ever seen.

Something about it made his gut twist, but when his wife asked if he wanted her to open it...

"Only if you want to."

He could not find it in himself to stop her from doing so. It was as if a part of him somehow knew this was meant to happen. That the monsters inside of him had to be exposed, one by one—

'Gotcha,' Sylvain heard his wife whisper as the lock gave way under her skilled fingers.

—if he wanted to deserve a girl like her.

He watched her take a step forward and her face lose color.

And when she turned to him, her eyes once again haunted...

Sylvain's heart was already pounding as he stepped past her.

S'il te pla?t, mon Dieu.

And then he saw what she saw.

A wall of photographs. Women's faces staring back at them. Dozens of them. All different ages, backgrounds, circumstances.

All the women he had been with throughout the years.