Page 84 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Family. The word echoes in my mind, hitting places I thought I’d sealed off years ago.

I’ve been alone for so long, the concept feels almost mythical.

But looking at them—Kiera fierce and vulnerable in the moonlight, Wild steady and determined despite everything—hope floods through me for the first time since I was twenty years old, since I first married Kiera and thought I understood what forever meant.

Back then, I was naive enough to believe love was simple.

That wanting someone was enough, that good intentions could overcome any obstacle.

Eight years of separation, of believing lies, living with rage and betrayal have taught me how fragile those bonds can be.

How easily they can be poisoned by the right words in the wrong ears.

But what we’re building now is different. Stronger. Forged in fire instead of built on hope alone.

“You realize what you’re asking for,” I say, my voice rough.

The words scrape against years of self-imposed isolation, decades of convincing myself I was better off alone.

“I’m not ‘reformed’ or trying to go straight.

I’m Umber trained. I’ve killed more people than either of you combined, and I enjoyed it.

I’m possessive, controlling, and I have a temper that’s gotten people hurt. ”

The list of my failures, my darkness, tastes bitter on my tongue. But they need to know what they’re signing up for. What kind of man they’re choosing to trust with their hearts.

“We know,” Kiera says softly, her voice holding no judgment, no fear. Just acceptance. “That’s not what we’re asking you to change.”

“Then what are you asking?”

Wild speaks up, surprising me with the steadiness in his voice, the certainty. “We’re asking you to trust us. To let us in. To stop carrying everything alone.”

The simplicity of it stops me cold. Trust. When was the last time I truly trusted anyone?

Kiera, maybe, before Zephyr’s manipulation tore us apart.

But even then, I held parts of myself back, convinced my darkness would eventually drive her away.

Convinced that loving someone meant protecting them from who I really was.

Pheonix in a different way. But nothing like this.

“I left you once,” I say to Kiera, the admission tasting like ash. The worst mistake of my life laid bare between us. “I believed Zephyr’s lies, convinced myself you’d betrayed me. I walked away without giving you a chance to explain. What makes you think I won’t do it again?”

The question hangs in the air like a sword over our heads. The fear that’s been eating at me since the moment I realized what Zephyr had done, what I’d allowed him to do to us.

Her eyes flash with something fierce and uncompromising.

“Because now I know better. Because now we both know what lies and manipulation look like. Because now we’re not alone—we have him.” She nods toward Wild. “Three is stronger than two. Harder to break.”

“And because,” Wild adds, his voice carrying absolute certainty that makes something tight in my chest begin to loosen, “I’ll kill anyone who tries to come between us.”

The vehemence in his voice, the matter-of-fact way he says it, tells me he means every word. This man threw away everything he was for Kiera. For us. That level of devotion... I recognize it because I feel it too. Because I’ve lived it for eight years, even when I thought I hated her.

“I should have been there when you killed Zephyr,” I say quietly, the regret sharp in my voice. The memory of seeing her afterward—blood-soaked and magnificent—burned into my mind. “That bastard manipulated both of us for eight years. I wanted to watch him die.”

Kiera’s eyes soften with understanding. “You were protecting Wild. That mattered more.”

“But you faced him alone. You carried that burden, made that choice...” I pause, searching for the right words to express the complex mix of pride and regret churning in my chest. “When I saw you afterward, covered in his blood, my first emotion was pride. The second was regret that I missed watching you tear him apart.”

“He got exactly what he deserved,” Wild says simply, fierce protectiveness coloring his voice. “And from exactly the right person.”

“You were magnificent,” I continue, my voice rough with emotion. “Seeing you come up those stairs, knowing you’d ended the man who tried to destroy us... Christ, Kiera. I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life.”

She reaches for my hand, fingers intertwining with mine. “It wasn’t just my victory. It was ours. All of ours.”

The acceptance in their voices, the lack of judgment or fear, does something to the walls I’ve built around my heart. They’re not asking me to be someone else. They’re asking me to be exactly who I am—with them. To let them see the darkness and choose to stay anyway.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, the vulnerability cutting deeper than any blade. “How to be part of something instead of just protecting it from the outside.”

For so long, I’ve been the guardian at the gates, the one who handles threats before they can touch what matters. But being inside the walls, being one of the things that needs protecting... it terrifies me more than any enemy I’ve ever faced.

“None of us do,” Kiera says, her honesty a balm to my fears. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“What does that look like? Practically speaking?” I ask, needing to understand the structure we’re building.

“We need to establish how we work as a unit. Our individual strengths, how we make decisions, how we handle conflicts.” Wild says; his years in the FBI showing in the way he organizes his thoughts, breaks down complex problems into manageable pieces.

The practical approach grounds me, gives me something concrete to hold onto in the midst of all this emotional upheaval.

“I handle strategy and operations,” Kiera says without hesitation, confidence ringing in her voice. “Both the assassination work and the long-term planning. That’s what I’m good at.”

“I handle protection and enforcement,” I add, feeling the rightness of it settle into place. “Anyone tries to hurt what’s ours, they go through me.”

“And I handle intelligence and external relations,” Wild finishes, his new role crystallizing as he speaks. “I still have FBI contacts, access to information. I can keep us ahead of threats and cover our tracks.”

It’s true we’re the only ones that saw him renounce the Bureau. The division of labor feels natural, logical. We each bring something essential to the table, something the others need. Not a hierarchy, but a partnership built on complementary strengths.

“What about decisions?” I ask, needing to understand the structure we’re building. “Who has final say when we disagree?”

“We all do,” Kiera says firmly, her voice brooking no argument. “We’re partners. Equals. If we can’t agree, we keep talking until we can.”

“And if someone tries to leave?”

The question slips out before I can stop it, revealing the fear I’ve been carrying like a stone in my chest. The terror that this is too good to last, that I’ll find a way to destroy it like I’ve destroyed everything else I’ve ever loved.

Wild’s hand finds mine, his grip firm and warm and absolutely certain.

“Then the other two drag them back. No one leaves. No one gets left behind. That’s the rule.”

“The only rule that matters,” Kiera agrees, her voice carrying the weight of an oath.

Love. Trust. Loyalty.

“Then I choose you too,” I say, the words carrying the weight of a vow. “Both of you. Until we’re all dead. And probably after.”

Pulling them closer, the rightness of it settles into my bones like coming home after years of wandering. “We’re going to be a nightmare for anyone who crosses us,” I murmur against Kiera’s hair.

“Good,” Wild says, his arm tightening around both of us. “Let them be afraid.”

“They should be,” Kiera says, her voice carrying that edge of steel that first made me fall in love with her. “We’re done being hunted. Done pretending to be anything other than exactly what we are.”

“Killers,” I say, the word no longer an accusation but an acceptance.

“Partners,” Wild adds.

“Ours,” Kiera finishes, and the possessiveness in her voice makes something primal in me purr with satisfaction.