Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Piper

A s dawn creeps through the curtains, Sean's bedroom— our bedroom—is cast in a soft glow. I wake, cocooned in dreamy warmth, nestled in the tattooed arms of my Black Knight.

He's home.

After the reading of my father's will, he said he had something that needed to be taken care of, and he'd be out of the country for a few days.

He didn't tell me where he was going, and I didn't ask. I know how to skirt the dangers of our families and am relieved that at least for now, there have been no new threats coming at us from south of the river.

He's sleeping next to me, his features softened by rest, the usual stern intensity that marks his expression replaced by a rare, unguarded peacefulness.

I study the chiseled beauty of his face, following the line of the scar that mars his cheek and lip. It's a silent testament to the violence of the life he's led—a life vastly different from my own, yet intricately entwined.

How many times did I glimpse Sean over the years at public events or, on the rare occasions, when Cormack Quinn met with my father?

Each encounter left me more fascinated by the tattooed man, who seemed shut off and unreachable. He has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a silent warrior in a world of chaos.

Yet, when we're together, he keeps the chaos of mafia life at bay. He was right when he told me we couldn't be together because I had the wrong last name.

I was a McGuire.

That association carried too much weight, too much history, and too much bad blood. But I'm not a McGuire any longer. I've finally broken free of the shackle of my father and his control.

When Sean killed my father to save me, all ties to my old life were severed at last.

Maybe, in a few months or even years, he'll give me a new last name. The thought sends a thrill through me, a flutter of excitement at the possibility of truly claiming my place in his world.

I would be proud to be a Quinn, to be part of the family he belongs to, to stand by his side not just in love, but in name.

And who knows? Maybe I could even get my motorcycle license. The idea makes me smile, and I imagine riding alongside Sean, sharing in the freedom and exhilaration he finds on the open road.

It's one part of his life he treasures, and the prospect of sharing it with him sparks a warm glow in my heart.

Or maybe, once I finish my PR program, I can help the Quinn family by managing their optics, ensuring they remain in the good graces of Dublin's people.

I told my parents my skills could be a useful way to contribute to the business, but they never supported the idea. I bet Sean will take my interests more seriously.

Lying here, with Sean's steady breathing as a comforting backdrop, a frisson of potential hums over my skin and raises the hair on my arms.

I shiver and Sean stirs. His eyes open and it's so cute as the haze of sleep clears and then his eyes light up when he sees me. "Hey, you're awake."

"And you're home."

He closes the distance between our mouths and gives me a quick kiss. "I got in a few hours ago and didn't want to wake you."

"Was your trip successful?"

"You could say that." Sean flips back the covers and strides over toward the window.

I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing my man strutting around naked. The way he moves, with the flex and release of his inked back and butt muscles, is mesmerizing. He's a walking work of Celtic art, chiseled by the fae gods.

He catches me staring and chuckles. "You ogling me, kitten? See something you want to pounce on, do you?"

I take in the glory of full-frontal Sean and sigh. "If paying my dues in my first twenty years earned me twenty more in Sean Quinn heaven, I say it was time well spent."

Sean arches a brow and kneels on the mattress. "If you think you're getting away from me in twenty years, you're delusional. You're mine, kitten. All mine. Forever. The end."

"If you insist."

"I do." His easy smile dissolves a little as he runs his hand over the wooden box he picked up off the desk. "And you know there are no lines I won't cross to keep you safe and make you happy, right?"

"Aye, I do."

"And you understand the kind of man you're sharing your body with, right?"

I press my hand over the Celtic cross on his heart. "And I wouldn't change a thing about you."

He's studying me as we talk, and I sense that he's measuring my resolve.

"Sean, you're scaring me. What's this about?"

His gaze softens and my heart melts. This man owns me, and he knows it. "It's about you, kitten. It's only ever about you."

My gaze drops to the wooden box in his lap. It's a little smaller than a box of tissues and stained so dark brown it's almost black. "What's in the box, Sean?"

He swallows. "Justice."

Oh, dear. My heart takes off in my chest. "What did you do?"

"I kept my promise to you."

"What does that mean?"

"Open it and find out."

I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. Justice. What does that mean? My hands are trembling when I lift the lid of the box and then I'm staring at two fingers lying severed in a small patch of congealed blood.

How is what I'm seeing justice? These are definitely fingers from a man…a big man with hairy knuckles…

The memory of Sean's words hits me… If anyone lays a fucking finger on you, I will cut them off with garden shears.

I blink. "You severed Arkady's fingers?"

Sean's gaze has grown impossibly dark. He meets my gaze, and his lips quirk up into a cruel smirk. "He had no right to touch you the way he did."

"But won't this cause trouble with Anton Volkov and your gun deal?"

Sean frowns. "It wouldn't have changed things even if it did. I made you a promise, and I kept it."

"But Tag worked so hard to make things work."

Sean shrugs. "Thankfully, Anton is a man of vengeance himself and agreed that since Arkady violated you after he and Tag had come to their agreement, I was free to exact my act of justice."

Justice . I have no sympathy for Arkady, but this seems extreme. Then again, Sean is staking his claim and setting a precedent. Anyone who hurts me will pay a price.

"Thank you." I lean forward and kiss him. "It's not a conventional girlfriend gift—and I never want to be a collector of body parts—but you're right. It balances the scales, doesn't it?"

"I think so, and Anton threw in a taped apology from Volkov as a bonus, if you want to see it."

I think about that and close the lid on the box. "No. I don't need it. From now on, we focus on the horizon. Our future is in front of us, not behind."

Sean takes the box and puts it on the floor on his side of the bed. "Sounds good to me. Now, back to bed. We've got a few hours before sunrise, and I was having the sexiest dream."

"I hope I was in it."

"You had the starring role, kitten."

"As I should."

He chuckles, kisses my neck, and pulls the covers over us as he snuggles me closer. The house is quiet, and he succumbs to the pull of sleep even as he tucks me in.

And that is why I love him.

Protecting me and ensuring my well-being is instinctual for him. He doesn't pretend to care for me or force himself to consider my needs.

He loves me.

And I love him right back.