Page 86 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Watching Kiera with the boys, seeing the soft vulnerability she lets show when she thinks no one's looking, I'm struck by how far we've all come.

Three months ago, I was hunting her. Now I can't imagine a world where she's not the center of my universe, where Blade and I aren't united in our determination to protect what we've built together.

Grandmother approaches with the grace of a queen holding court, her movements economical and precise.

Everything about her speaks of control, of power wielded with surgical precision.

It's no wonder my grandmother’s described the way she is—she's exactly the kind of woman to run a criminal empire from behind a facade of respectable widowhood.

"Indeed." She studies me with the intensity of a scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen. "You've surprised me, you know. Most men in your position would have chosen duty over desire. Career over chaos."

"Most men don't know Kiera," I reply with sincerity.

Her smile becomes more genuine. "No, they didn't. Though I suspect your choice had as much to do with the man beside her as the woman herself."

Heat creeps up my neck, but I don't deny it. There's no point in lying to someone who sees everything.

"Blade's... unexpected."

"The best things usually are." Her gaze shifts to where Blade is now engaged in conversation with Tristan, their body language suggesting they know each other well.

"He's always been one of my most effective operatives, but he's never been stable.

Too much anger, too much pain driving him.

But with you and Kiera..." She trails off, letting me draw my own conclusions.

"He's different," I agree. "We all are."

It's true. The man who cornered me in that safe house, who looked ready to put a bullet in me for touching his wife, has learned to share. More than that—he's learned to trust. Not just Kiera with me, but me with Kiera. It's a delicate balance we're still figuring out, but it works.

"And you?" She asks. "Any regrets about leaving your old life behind?"

I consider the question seriously, thinking about my badge gathering dust in some evidence locker, about the commendations I'll never receive, the cases I'll never close through official channels.

"No," I say finally. "I thought I knew what I wanted—justice, order, the satisfaction of putting bad guys behind bars, or of pleasing you. But what I actually wanted was purpose. Belonging. A place where my skills mattered to people who mattered to me."

"And you've found that here."

"I've found it with them," I correct, nodding toward Kiera and Blade. "Everything else is just logistics."

To my shock, she laughs, a sound like crystal chimes. "Spoken like a man truly in love. Both of them, if I'm not mistaken."

There's no judgment in her voice, only curiosity and perhaps approval. In her world, conventional relationships are probably the exception rather than the rule.

"Both of them," I confirm. "It should be complicated, but it's not. It's the simplest thing I've ever done—choosing them."

"Simple rarely means easy."

"No," I agree, thinking of the fights, the jealousy, the moments when I thought Blade might actually kill me. "But worth it."

Movement catches my eye—Sable and Tristan in quiet conversation, their body language professional but somehow charged. There's something there, an undercurrent I can't quite identify.

"They work well together," I observe.

She follows my gaze, her expression neutral. "Both excellent operatives. The boarding school assignment suits their skills. Sable's background in psychology and Tristan's tactical expertise make them ideal for that environment."

"Close quarters assignments can be... challenging."

"They're professionals," Esther says simply. "They'll manage whatever complications arise." Her gaze shifts back to me, suddenly serious. "Speaking of potential—are you prepared for what comes next?"

"Which is?"

"The real work. Zephyr was a symptom, not the disease. There are other threats out there, other challenges that will test what you three have built together. Are you ready for that?"

I look across the room at Kiera, who's now helping Cassius arrange flowers from the centerpiece while Crue regales Phoenix with some story that has her laughing.

At Blade, who's moved to stand near them, his posture relaxed in a way I've rarely seen.

This unlikely family we've created, this impossible thing that somehow works.

"We're ready," I reply. "Whatever comes next, we'll face it together."

"Good." She pats my arm with surprising gentleness. "Because I have some ideas about your first official assignment."

Before I can ask what she means, Kiera appears at my side, sliding her arm through mine with easy familiarity. The casual intimacy of the gesture still takes my breath away sometimes—the way she includes me, claims me as natural as breathing.

"What are you two plotting over here?" she asks, her tone light but her eyes sharp. She's learned to read the room, to spot danger even in social situations.

"Just discussing the future," Esther says smoothly. "But that's a conversation for another time. Right now, we have a meal to enjoy and family to celebrate."

Family. The word sits strangely in my chest, warm and unfamiliar.

I've never had much family—my parents died when I was young, my grandmother was more mentor than maternal figure.

But looking around this room full of dangerous, broken people who've somehow found their way to each other, I think maybe I understand what it means now.

Blade joins us, his hand finding the small of Kiera's back in a gesture that's become second nature. The three of us stand together, and I feel the balance we've achieved—not perfect, probably never perfect, but real and solid and ours.

"Ready for brunch?" Kiera asks, and there's something in her voice, a lightness that tells me she's thinking the same thing I am.

We're home.