Page 40

Four Months Later

I smooth my hands over the black satin dress clinging to my body and glance at the mirror.

I look… different.

It’s not the hair, swept up into loose, romantic curls, or the smoky eye makeup I’ve carefully perfected. It’s not even the dress or the blood that runs through my veins now — rich, potent, supernatural.

It’s my whole damn aura.

I feel like I’ve been reborn. Like all the bad that happened in my life is a totally different existence.

I’m not traumatized by my mother and sister’s murder.

I didn’t lose my dad when I needed him. I wasn’t betrayed by my best friend.

I wasn’t trafficked by a vampire. I didn’t watch my husband die right in front of me.

No. I’m just Lana Hunt. The happiest, most confident, most rooted woman on planet fucking Earth.

Our townhouse in Old Town still smells like fresh paint and wood polish from the light remodel we gave it.

The floors creak softly beneath my heels as I move through the bedroom, past the bay window with its view of the icy street below.

I can hear fireworks being tested somewhere off in the distance—the early sparks of a city about to celebrate.

Chicago.

I never thought I’d live anywhere but New York. And now… I can’t imagine being anywhere but here.

A door clicks softly behind me, followed by the sound of dress shoes across wood. I don’t need to turn. I feel him before I see him.

Ares’ gaze travels up my body like a caress, and when I turn to face him, his expression is so full of heat and reverence, it makes my stomach flutter.

“You’re going to kill me tonight, Vengeance,” he says, voice low, playful. “Literally kill me. They’ll find me in a corner of that party, heart stopped, cause of death: wife in a satin dress.”

I smirk and cross to him. “Well, that’s no good. Juliet can only bring you back once. Maybe I should change into some sweatpants and one of your t-shirts?”

He wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me in. “Doesn’t really matter what you wear. You always kill me with that body.”

My smile softens. I press my forehead to his. “Ready to ring in a new year with our not-so-normal family?”

He grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The Nocturne is nestled between much taller buildings.

It’s terracotta-clad and dark. It’s only eleven stories tall, and every single window is arched.

Gorgeous columns stretch up each corner of the building.

There are detailed carvings tucked into all the hidden corners.

It looks old and like something that should exist in Gotham City.

Inside, we walk into a big entryway. Great walls stretch above us, and a massive chandelier hangs overhead.

Straight ahead, there is a set of massive double doors.

And right inside, there is a beautiful ballroom.

Massive columns line the perimeter. The floor is aged and chipped marble.

The ceiling is crisscrossed with intricate beams. It’s been decorated brilliantly.

Candles flicker. Music thrums low and elegant. Velvet and crystal catch the light.

And there are so many people.

Vampires. Gifted. Immortals and supernaturals. And yet, the energy here is warm. Welcoming. It still floors me just how many of them live in Chicago—how alive this city is beneath its surface.

“How do they keep this place secret?” I whisper to Ares as we make our way through the grand room.

“Goes to show how hard the Night Council works at what they do,” Ares says.

We’ve learned so much about this city since we arrived.

Like the fact that there is a Chicago Night Council.

Roman and Juliet are both members, as are some vampire twins—Mason and Elena, as well as a gifted woman named Sigrid.

“And Roman is terrifying enough, no one wants to deal with his wrath by talking about Chicago.”

It's true. The man is intense when it comes to Chicago’s security.

That was another surprise about moving to the city.

Within twenty-four hours of our arrival, Roman informed us that we had to get a tattoo.

I hadn’t noticed it at first, but every vampire in Chicago has a rose tattoo, and it has to be somewhere visible.

Roman’s is on his neck. Juliet’s is on her wrist, rising up her forearm.

It means you’ve been vetted and cleared to reside here, that you’re a vampire who can be trusted.

The ink is also mixed with blood, the magical blood of Sigrid’s son, enabling her to track every vampire in the city.

Roman takes security very, very seriously.

I now have a rose tattooed on the back of my neck. It matches Ares’ exactly.

Sysco finds us first. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit, tie undone like he’s already had too much champagne—and there’s a woman on his arm. She’s all smiles, wearing a hot pink dress, her hair curled, her heels still not bringing her to Sysco’s chin.

“Lana, Ares!” he calls. “Meet Holly.”

“I think we met once when you came by the hospital,” she says, and she’s wildly upbeat. It would seem annoying if she didn’t sound so genuine.

“Right, you’re Juliet’s assistant!” I put it together. I’ve met so many people since coming to Chicago, it’s hard to keep everyone straight sometimes.

“Best job ever,” she says, and her grin says she means it. “You’re the newlyweds.”

Ares raises an eyebrow. “What exactly has he been telling you?”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “He didn’t gush too much.”

Sysco shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I absolutely gushed.”

They’re both a little drunk. I didn’t know vampires could get drunk, but here’s the proof it is possible.

We’re still laughing when Florence and Clementine walk in, both radiant despite the chill still clinging to their coats. Florence’s cheeks are pink from the wind, but she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.

“You made it,” I say, embracing her.

“Straight from the airport,” she breathes. “Half the company’s transitioned. We’ll have it fully settled in another six months.”

“That’s amazing, Flo,” I compliment. “I always knew you were Wonder Woman.”

She rolls her eyes at the comparison but shakes it off. “Something weird is going on, though,” she says, immediately drawing all of Ares’ attention. “I keep getting a request from this man for a meeting. He’s… persistent. And definitely not human.”

“What’s the name?” Ares asks, ready to go to war for his sister if someone is bothering her.

“Some guy named Henry,” she says, eyes scanning the party. “Won’t give a last name.”

“That’s not concerning,” I say sarcastically.

“I know,” Florence affirms. “I think I’ll keep avoiding him. Something about it feels weird.”

“I keep telling her to listen to her instincts,” Clementine says as she looks at her wife with concern. “Don’t meet with people who make your skin crawl.”

“It’s not exactly that he makes my skin crawl,” Florence says. “Just… I don’t know. It feels… heavy. Serious.”

“Listen to your instincts,” I echo Clementine.

“How’s Harry?” Ares asks.

Florence raises one eyebrow as she looks over the crowd. “Practically king of New York,” she says. “He’s banded most of the vampires left together. They’re all on the hunt for this therapist.”

“He making any headway?” I ask.

Her eyes shift to mine, darkness clouding them. “No,” she says simply. “They still don’t even have a name. But Harry is handling it all well. He still doesn’t seem worried.”

I shake my head, hoping and praying he can continue to handle it. Either me, Ares, or Sysco checks in with Harry every day, just to make sure he’s still alive.

“That’s enough dark and heavy,” Clementine says. “Tonight is a celebration. Can we please just party like we’re normal people?”

Florence looks up at her wife, a grin taking over her face as she leans forward and kisses her as they walk backward onto the dance floor.

I just grin at their happiness and turn to survey the room.

Near the bar, I spot Juliet and Elena, their heads thrown back in laughter, each holding a flute of something sparkling and probably not human.

I join them without hesitation. Elena has been Juliet’s best friend for over a decade now, but she’s so bold and authentically herself, I felt like I fit right in.

It’s a perfect little trio now.

“Look at you,” Juliet says, looping an arm around me. “You clean up nice.”

“You’re one to talk.”

I raise my glass to Elena, and she clinks hers against mine with a warm smile.

“You fit in well here, Lana,” Elena says.

I blink, a grin taking over my lips. “Thank you.”

“You were always going to,” Juliet says. “Chicago likes women who bite back.”

That makes me laugh. It also makes me feel seen.

I’ve never been one for crowds. I prefer to blend in at a party, but here, with this crowd, I feel like I’ve finally found my tribe. I can just exist. I can be me. I don’t have to pretend anything, and they still like me for who I am.

The music shifts.

Softens. Slows.

I feel him behind me before he speaks.

“May I have this dance?”

I turn, smiling up at Ares, and nod. He takes my hand and pulls me gently to the center of the room, where couples are beginning to sway under the fairy lights strung across the rafters.

He draws me in, hands on my waist, my arms wrapping around his neck. The music melts into the air like smoke.

“You look like a goddess, Vengeance,” Ares says softly into my hair as he holds me tight. “Chicago has been good to you.”

“I feel like one, Venom,” I say, letting a soft smile pull at my lips. “It feels like everything finally slid into place. Like the universe had to upend everything to land us exactly where we were supposed to be.”

“I never saw it coming, but I absolutely agree.” His voice is a rumble I feel throughout my entire body.

I rest my head against his shoulder, and we sway. The lights blur. The music wraps around us. The crowd fades.

All I feel is him.

Everything was so heavy. There was so much violence. So much went wrong. There were so many times I thought I would lose this man who is my greatest vice.

But we fought tooth and nail. Through life and death.

We earned each other.

Suddenly, the crowd around us starts chanting in unison.

“Ten!”

Ares cups my face in his hands, his eyes burning into mine.

“Nine!”

My heart stutters.

“Eight… Seven… Six…”

“I love you,” I whisper.

“More than forever,” he replies.

“Five… Four… Three…”

I rise onto my toes.

“Two…”

His lips brush mine.

“One—”

And we kiss.

“Happy New Year!” The room erupts—champagne, laughter, joy—but I barely hear any of it. All I feel is the spark of magic between us, the heat of his mouth, the way his arms hold me like he’ll never let go.

When we finally break apart, I can’t help but grin.

This year nearly broke us.

But we’re still here. Stronger. Wiser. Whole.

Home.

And I know—deep in my immortal bones—that vengeance and venom are sometimes what it takes to write a perfect, happily ever after.

THE END