Page 114 of Wicked Salvation

“I love you,” he says again, stronger now. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve—God, Eden, I’ve done everything wrong. But I’ve never stopped loving you.”

My chest aches.

“I love you too,” I say. “Even when I hated you. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I thought you’d never forgive me for choosing him.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling like it hurts.

“I should’ve stopped you before it got that far.”

“I should’ve believed you,” I whisper. “About Silas. About everything.” I look down at my fingers. “He killed Vivienne. He convinced Anastazya to push her out of the window.”

Lucian doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. “That’s why I found her dead in your dorm room. He probably wanted to keep her quiet now that she’d done his dirty work.”

My jaw slackens, but I don’t feel surprised either. It says something about how messed up this whole situation is. Silas killed two people.

I would’ve been the third.

Lucian takes my hand completely in his. He holds my hand palm-to-palm, lacing our fingers together. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist like he’s memorizing the rhythm of my pulse.

“I’m not letting you go again,” he says quietly. “I don’t care what they say, or even what you say. I am never letting you out of my sight ever again. You’remine.”

“You don’t have to do all that,” I say, tears falling again. “I can figure things out on my own.” But my words feel hollow to my own ears. I’ve been fighting for so long, longer than I realized. Maybe I do need rest…

He presses his lips to the back of my hand.

“You’re mine, Eden,” he says. “I always protect and care for what’s mine. I’m not telling you all this for you to feel like you owe me a relationship. I’m telling you all this so you know you’ll never be in danger again. I’ll make sure you’re safe, forever.”

And I believe him.

For the first time, Ireallybelieve him.

“You don’t have to promise me forever,” I murmur, voice cracking. “I don’t even know if I believe in it anymore.”

Lucian lifts his gaze to mine.

His eyes are storm-colored, soft in a way that makes my heart ache.

“Then don’t,” he says. “Don’t believe in forever. Let’s believe in what we have right now.”

His thumb brushes another tear from my cheek.

EPILOGUE

The door creaks when it opens.

Not ominously—just the soft, uncertain kind of sound new things make when they haven’t been used yet. Lucian holds it open for me, balancing our last two bags on one shoulder. The moment I step inside, I take a minute to appreciate it all.

The flat is small.

Nothing like the palatial estate his family owns in Sussex, or the Lockhart estate that I grew up in. It’s modern with two bedrooms, one bathroom, an open living space with a couch that still smells like the plastic it was wrapped in, and a kitchen barely big enough for two people to dance in—though I already know we’ll try.

But it’sours.

We both agreed that we wanted to try living a normal life—far from the wealth and stuffy high-society drama that neither of us liked. This flat represents that beginning. It’s still in a safe area and modern. But our neighbors don’t have peerages or shop exclusively on High Street. They work jobs. They don’t have drivers so they drive themselves around in cars that don’t cost half a million pounds.

The ceilings are high enough to feel airy. The walls are freshly painted, warm-toned white. There’s a window over the sink that faces a narrow side street with crooked brick buildings and chimneys that puff out gentle curls of smoke. And even though we’ve barely unpacked, and it doesn’t have the faintest trace of us in it yet, it feels like home.

Lucian drops the bags and steps in behind me, crouching down to wrap his arms around my waist. His chin rests on my shoulder, his big hands splayed across my midriff.