Page 86 of Undercover Shadow

“I love you too,” Tag replied.

The words were simple, but they carried so much weight. We’d almost lost everything at Brodick. We’d saved the world but nearly destroyed ourselves in the process. And somehow, we’d found this—this promise of a future neither of us had thought possible.

The plane touched down at Edinburgh’s private airfield, where a helicopter waited on the tarmac, ready to take us to Glenshadow. As we walked to it, Tag squeezed my hand.

“Ready for Mrs. Murray’s reaction?”

“She’ll cry.”

“Definitely.”

“And then immediately start planning menus.”

“Without question.”

We climbed into the chopper, and as it lifted off, I watched the city fall away below us. Somewhere down there, ordinary people were living ordinary lives, never knowing how close they’d come to losing everything.

The ring felt heavy on my finger—not uncomfortable, just significant. A choice made. A future claimed.

The Highlands appeared through the mist, and with them, Glenshadow. Home.

EPILOGUE

TAG

Six months later

The morning of my wedding day dawned clear and cold, mist rising from the loch like something out of legend. I stood at my bedroom window in Glenshadow, watching the sunrise while adjusting my suit and tie for the dozenth time.

“You’re going to wear out the fabric,” said Con.

I turned to find my best man standing in the doorway, looking amused. Behind him, Ash and Gus struggled with their bow ties.

“Here.” Con stepped forward to help them. “Honestly, you can disarm a bomb but can’t manage formal wear?”

“Bombs are simpler,” Gus muttered.

“I’m not on the bloody bomb squad,” Ash muttered.

They’d been trying to keep the mood light all morning, for my sake and Ash’s. This was his first formal event since Ambrose’s death. He’d lost weight, and shadows lingered under his eyes, but he’d insisted on being here.

“Sullivan?” I asked him.

“On her way.”

A knock at the door interrupted us, and Douglas entered with a silver tray.

“Whiskey, gentlemen. The twenty-five-year Macallan.”

“Bit early, isn’t it?” Gus asked.

“It’s tradition,” I said, accepting a glass. “My grandfather started it. A toast with the groomsmen before facing matrimony.”

We raised our glasses.

“To Tag,” Con said. “Who finally found someone as stubborn as him.”

“To Leila,” Ash added. “Who saved the world and still agreed to marry you.”