31. June

Chapter thirty-one

June

T he church air is thick with the scent of lilies and grief. It clogs my throat, threatening to choke me as I stand in the shadows at the back of the room. My hands shake, and I clench them into fists, nails biting into my palms. The pain grounds me, keeps me from losing my shit entirely as I watch the love of my life eulogize me.

Cara.

She stands at the podium, a vision in black, her belly swollen with our child. Even from here, I can see the tremor in her hands, the way she grips the edge of the lectern like it's the only thing keeping her upright. Her voice carries, strong despite the tears that glisten on her cheeks.

"June was a force of nature," she says, and Christ, the irony of those words nearly brings me to my knees.

I shouldn't be here. Every instinct screams at me to run, to stick to the goddamn plan. But the message I received last night changes everything.

"We know where your wife is, Mr. Deveaux. Tick tock."

No name, no return address. Just those ten words and a photo of Cara sleeping, clearly taken through our bedroom window. The implication is clear: Elaine knows. She's coming for Cara, for our baby. And I'll be damned if I let that happen.

So here I am, blowing months of careful planning to hell because I couldn't stay away. Because the need to see Cara, to make sure she's safe, overrode every ounce of common sense I possess.

"He'll never get to meet our child," Cara's voice cracks, and the sound is a knife to my gut. "But I promise you, June, our baby will know you. Will know how brave you were, how strong, how full of love."

Fuck. FUCK. I want to run to her, to gather her in my arms and never let go. To tell her it's all a lie, that I'm here, that I love her more than my own life.

But I can't. Not yet. Not until I'm sure it's safe.

I scan the crowd, cataloging faces. Judith, steely-eyed and ramrod straight in the front pew. Dante, his expression unreadable as always. Sarah, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. And there, near the back, a face that doesn't belong.

Lucius St. Claire. Elaine's right-hand man and resident sociopath.

Ice floods my veins. If he's here, that means Elaine knows. The plan is well and truly fucked.

I have to move. Have to get to Cara before-

"You may be gone," Cara's voice rings out, steel beneath the grief, "but you'll never be forgotten. Not as long as I'm breathing."

My control snaps. I step forward, out of the shadows, into the harsh light of day.

The gasp that ripples through the crowd is like a physical blow. Cara's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world narrows to just us. Those storm-gray eyes I'd kill for, die for, widen in shock and disbelief.

"June?" The word is barely a whisper, but it carries in the sudden silence of the church.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Shouts erupt, a cacophony of confusion and accusation. I push through the crowd, desperate to reach Cara. But before I can, her eyes roll back and she crumples.

"Cara!" I lunge forward, but Dante is faster. He catches her, cradling her against his chest as he barks orders for someone to call an ambulance.

I'm almost there, just a few more steps, when a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I whirl, ready to fight, only to come face to face with Judith.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she hisses, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and fear.

"Elaine knows," I growl, trying to shake off her grip. "She threatened Cara. I had to-"

"You had to blow our entire operation?" Judith cuts me off, her voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

I do. God help me, I do. But none of it matters. Nothing matters except getting to Cara, making sure she and the baby are safe.

"I don't care," I snarl, finally wrenching free of Judith's grasp. "I'm not leaving her again."

I turn back towards Cara, only to find my path blocked by a wall of black suits. Dante's men, their faces grim and unyielding.

"Move," I growl, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

"Can't do that, boss," one of them says, not unkindly. "Mr. Corleone's orders. We gotta get you out of here."

I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove Dante's orders when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. St. Claire, slipping out a side door, phone pressed to his ear.

Fuck. FUCK.

"June." Judith's voice cuts through the fog of panic and rage. "We have to go. Now."

I look back at Cara, still unconscious in Dante's arms. Every fiber of my being screams to go to her, to explain, to make this right.

But I can't. Not without putting her in even more danger.

"Keep her safe," I rasp, meeting Dante's eyes over the heads of the crowd. He gives me a sharp nod, understanding passing between us in that brief moment.

Then I'm moving, letting Judith and Dante's men hustle me out of the church and into a waiting car. As we peel away from the curb, tires squealing, I catch one last glimpse of the church doors opening. Of paramedics rushing in with a stretcher.

Cara. My Cara Mia. My wild brave beauty.

I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.

The city blurs past the windows, a smear of gray and neon. I barely register where we're going, my mind a whirlwind of regret and desperate planning.

"Talk to me, June," Judith says, her voice cutting through the fog. "What happened? Why did you break protocol?"

I drag a hand down my face, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palm. When was the last time I shaved? Slept? Everything since that message is a blur of adrenaline and bone-deep terror.

"I got a threat," I say, my voice rough. "A photo of Cara sleeping, taken through our bedroom window. The message said they knew where she was. That time was running out."

Judith curses, low and vicious. "And you didn't think to contact us? To let us handle it?"

I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. "With what time? For all I knew, they were moving in on her that night. I couldn't risk it, Jude. I couldn't-"

My voice breaks, and suddenly I'm choking on air, gasping like a drowning man. Judith's hand is on my back, rubbing slow circles as I struggle to breathe.

"Easy," she murmurs. "Easy, little brother. I've got you."

When I finally get myself under control, I look up to find Judith watching me with a mixture of concern and resignation.

"You really love her, don't you?" she says softly. "Enough to throw away everything we've worked for."

"She is everything," I rasp, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "Her and the baby. Nothing else matters."

Judith nods, something like understanding flickering in her eyes. "Okay," she says. "Okay. Then let's figure out how to keep them safe."

The car pulls up to a nondescript apartment building, and we're hustled inside. The place is bare-bones - a bed, a table, a laptop humming quietly in the corner. A safe house, then.

"You'll stay here until we can figure out our next move," Judith says, already tapping away at her phone. "I'll have someone bring you some clothes, food-"

"No." The word comes out sharper than I intend, and Judith's head snaps up. "No more hiding. No more running. We end this. Now."

"June-"

"I mean it, Jude," I cut her off, steel entering my voice. "Elaine's made her move. It's time we made ours."

For a long moment, Judith just looks at me. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across her face. It's not a nice smile. It's the kind of smile that makes grown men piss themselves.

"Well, well," she says, a hint of pride in her voice. "Looks like baby brother's finally grown up. Alright, June. You want a war? Let's give Elaine a fucking war."

The next few hours are a blur of planning and preparation. Judith works her contacts, calling in favors and setting pieces into motion. I pace the small apartment like a caged animal, my mind racing with possibilities and pitfalls.

"We need to get to Cara," I say for the hundredth time. "Make sure she's safe."

Judith doesn't even look up from her laptop. "Dante's got her. She's safer with him right now than she would be with you."

The words sting, but I know she's right. Doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

"What about Amethyst?" I ask, changing tacks. "Any word on her?"

This time, Judith does look up. "Nothing concrete. But there are whispers. Rumors of a secret facility, of women being held against their will. Breeding stock, they're calling it."

The rage that wells up inside me is sudden and all-consuming. I have to close my eyes, count to ten, just to keep from putting my fist through the wall.

"June." Judith's voice is gentle, a stark contrast to her usual sharp tone. "I know you want to burn it all down. Believe me, I get it. But we have to be smart about this. One wrong move, and Elaine wins. For good."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. She's right. Of course she's right. But God, the thought of Cara out there, thinking I'm dead or worse, kills me.

"Can I at least call her?" I ask, hating the pleading note in my voice. "Let her know I'm okay?"

Judith hesitates, then shakes her head. "Not yet. We don't know who might be listening. But soon, I promise."

I want to argue, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But I swallow it down, lock it away with all the other poisonous things festering in my chest.

"Fine," I grit out. "Then tell me the plan. How do we take Elaine down?"

Judith's smile is a thing of terrible beauty. "Oh, brother mine," she purrs. "I thought you'd never ask."

The plan, when she lays it out, is breathtaking in its audacity. We're not just going after Elaine. We're going to dismantle her entire empire, brick by bloody brick.

Financial records, leaked to the right people at the right time. Whistle-blowers, coming forward with tales of corruption and abuse. And at the center of it all, the smoking gun - proof of Elaine's involvement in human trafficking and illegal experimentation.

"It's not going to be easy," Judith warns. "Elaine's got her hooks in deep. Police, judges, politicians - she's got half the city in her pocket."

"Then we go over their heads," I say, an idea taking shape. "Straight to the feds. The kind of shit Elaine's into, it's got to be crossing state lines. That makes it federal jurisdiction."

Judith's eyebrows raise, a look of grudging respect on her face. "Not bad, little brother. Not bad at all. But we're going to need ironclad proof. The kind that'll stand up in court."

I think of Sarah, of the risks she's taken to help us. Of Amethyst, wherever she is, whatever hell she's going through.

"We'll get it," I promise, steel in my voice. "Whatever it takes."

Judith nods, satisfied. "Good. Because once we start this, there's no going back. Elaine will come at us with everything she's got."

"Let her come," I growl, a feral grin spreading across my face. "I'm done hiding. Done running. It's time Elaine learned what happens when you fuck with a Deveaux."

"That's my boy," Judith says, pride evident in her voice. "Now, let's go raise some hell."

The next few days are a whirlwind of activity. Judith and I work around the clock, piecing together the puzzle of Elaine's empire. Every lead we follow, every stone we overturn, reveals new horrors.

The breeding program is worse than we imagined. Dozens of women, held captive and used as surrogates for Elaine's twisted experiments in genetic engineering. The thought of it makes me sick, makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down.

But we can't move yet. Can't tip our hand until we have everything in place.

It's killing me, being away from Cara. Every night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining her alone in our bed. Is she sleeping? Crying? Does she hate me for putting her through this?

On the fourth day, Judith finally relents.

"One call," she says, holding out a burner phone. "Two minutes, max. And for fuck's sake, be careful what you say."

My hands shake as I dial the number, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear the ring over the rush of blood in my ears.

One ring. Two. Three.

"Hello?" Cara's voice, wary and tired, comes through the line.

For a moment, I can't speak. Can't breathe. The sound of her voice, even tinny and distant through the phone, is like coming home.

"Cara," I finally manage, my voice cracking on her name. "It's me."

A sharp intake of breath, then silence. For a heart-stopping moment, I think she's hung up.

"June?" Her voice is barely a whisper, thick with disbelief and something that might be hope. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah, baby," I say, tears burning behind my eyes. "It's me. I'm so sorry, Cara. I'm so fucking sorry for everything."

She makes a sound, half-laugh, half-sob. "Where are you? Are you okay? June, I thought-"

"I know," I cut her off, acutely aware of the seconds ticking away. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I can't explain everything now, but I promise, I'm coming home to you. To both of you."

"June-" There's fear in her voice now, and it kills me. "What's going on? Why did you-"

"I love you," I say, pouring every ounce of feeling into the words. "I love you so much, Cara. You and our baby. Just hold on a little longer, okay? It's almost over."

"June, wait-"

But I can't. Can't bear to hear the pain in her voice, the questions I can't answer. Not yet.

"I love you," I say again, then force myself to hang up.

For a long moment, I just sit there, the phone clutched to my chest like a lifeline. Then, slowly, I look up at Judith.

"Let's finish this," I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Let's bring Elaine down."

Judith nods, a fierce pride in her eyes. "That's my boy," she says softly. "That's my June."

We work through the night, putting the final pieces into place. By morning, we have everything we need. Financial records, witness statements, DNA evidence linking Elaine to the breeding program. It's enough to bury her ten times over.

As the sun rises, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I stand at the window of our safe house, looking out over the city. Somewhere out there, Cara is waking up. Touching her belly, feeling our child move beneath her hand.

Soon, I promise silently. Soon, I'll be there with you. Soon, we'll be a family.

"You ready?" Judith asks, coming to stand beside me.

I turn to look at her, at the sister who's stood by me through everything. Who's risked everything to help me bring Elaine down.

"Yeah," I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I'm ready."

Together, we walk out of the safe house and into the dawn of a new day. Into a world where Elaine Deveaux is about to learn the true meaning of fear.

Watch out, Mother Dearest. Your prodigal son is coming home.

And this time, I'm not playing by your rules anymore.

Cara's brownstone rose before me, a lighthouse in the darkness, guiding me home to safe harbor. Every fiber of my being screamed to turn back, to stick to the goddamn plan and keep her safe. But I was a man possessed, reason drowned by the siren song of her siren call.

The lock yielded to my touch, muscle memory from a past I'd tried to bury guiding clever fingers. As I eased open the door, Cara's scent hit me like a punch to the gut - jasmine and honey, undercut by that indefinable essence that was pure her. My body reacted viscerally, a Pavlovian response to the woman who owned me, heart and soul.

I ghosted through the house, a wraith in black, identity obscured. Part of me loathed the subterfuge, skulking like a thief in my own home. But the hungry beast in my chest, starved for a taste of her, relished the forbidden thrill.

A whimper floated down from above, faint but unmistakable. I knew those breathy little noises, knew the way she sounded lost in pleasure, desperate for release. The knowledge that she was up there, alone and aching, turned my blood to molten lava.

I shouldn't. God fucking knows I shouldn't. But my feet were moving of their own accord, carrying me to her like a moth to a flame, like an addict to the needle.

The bedroom door stood ajar, moonlight painting a stripe across the floor. I edged closer, muscles coiled tight, breath shallow in my lungs. One look. Just one look, then I'd go, I'd leave her in peace-

The sight of Cara sprawled across our bed punched the air from my chest. Fuck. She was a vision, a goddess, her nightgown rucked up around her hips, one hand moving between her thighs. The other cradled the growing swell of her belly, our baby. She was ripe with secrets, lush with forbidden fruit, and I wanted to devour her whole.

"June," she breathed, my name a broken plea on her lips. "God, June, please..."

My control snapped like a brittle bone. I was across the room in a heartbeat, my hand covering hers, stilling her desperate movements.

Cara's eyes flew open, a scream rising in her throat. I caught it with my palm, my gaze burning into hers, willing her to know me even in the shadows.

Shock. Fear. Then, slow and dawning, recognition. Her eyes widened, filling with tears and an emotion too raw to name.

"You're not real," she whispered against my skin, voice cracking. "I've finally lost my mind."

I tugged off the mask, letting her drink in my face. The face she'd traced with gentle fingers, memorized with soft lips, loved with her whole fucking heart.

"I'm here," I rasped. "I'm real. I'm home."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, glinting in the moonlight. A maelstrom of emotions flickered lightning-fast across her features - joy, relief, disbelief, and a fury so intense it seared my already battered soul.

"You left." An accusation, bitten off and harsh. Her hands flew to my shoulders, nails biting crescents into my skin through thin cotton. "You left us."

Each word was a lash, a penance I'd spend a lifetime paying. "I know. Fuck, baby, I know. I'm sorry, I'm so goddamn-"

Her mouth crashed into mine, devouring my apology with greedy demand. I met her fury with my own, pouring every ounce of longing and regret into the clash of lips and teeth and tongue. She tasted of salt, of need, of home. I drank her down like a man dying of thirst, glutting myself on her essence.

We tore at each other's clothes, heedless of buttons popping, fabric rending. I needed her skin on my skin, needed to touch and taste and prove this was real, she was real, we were real.

"Missed you," I growled, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. "Ached for you."

"Then you shouldn't have left," she hissed, even as her back arched, pressing her fuller breasts into my eager hands. "Shouldn't have abandoned us."

Us. That word, so small but so fucking significant, squeezed a fist around my heart. I gentled my touch, cupping her face, thumbing away her tears.

"Never. I will never abandon you, either of you. You're mine, Cara. My whole fucking world."

Fresh tears welled, clumping her lashes. "Prove it. Prove you love me, that you want me even like this."

Christ. As if she could ever doubt it, this force that drove me, defined me. I reverently trailed my fingers over her rounded belly, shaping that new curve.

"You've never been more beautiful," I told her, infusing every word with raw honesty. "Carrying our child, all ripe and lush and so fucking perfect I can't breathe with it. Let me show you, sweetheart. Let me worship you the way you deserve."

A sobbing breath shuddered from her lungs and she nodded, a jerky bob of her head. Permission. Benediction.

I sank to my knees at the altar of her body, a penitent man prepared to offer every apology, every prayer, with hands and mouth. I kissed along the inside of one silken thigh, tonguing the crease where leg met torso. Her scent drugged me, musk and arousal and a hint of something else. Something new. The essence of our baby, maybe. A piece of me, of us, cradled safe in her body.

Fuck, the thought shouldn't turn me on so much. Shouldn't make me harder than granite, leaking at the tip in visceral proof of ownership, of claim. But it did, it fucking did, and I wouldn't even try to hide it. The primal, savage part of me reveled in it, in this tangible evidence that she was mine, that I'd left my mark on her in the most elemental way possible.

"Need to taste you," I husked, my voice a guttural rasp. "Been so fucking long since I had your sweet cunt on my tongue. Please, baby."

Cara keened, a high, pleading sound, and fisted her hands in my hair. Blunt nails scraped my scalp as she urged my face between her thighs. I groaned at the unspoken demand, at the heady proof of how much she wanted this, wanted me. My cock jerked against my zipper, a livewire of need, but I ignored it. This was about her. About worshipping every inch of her, re-memorizing every curve and hollow, every secret place that made her shake.

I lapped a broad stroke along her weeping slit, and holy Christ, the taste of her exploded on my tongue. Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods. Nothing in this fucked up world was sweeter, headier, more addictive. I feasted on her like a man half-starved, and in a way, I was. Starved for her, for this, for the connection that ran soul-deep.

I worked her over with every trick I'd ever learned, cataloging every breathy moan, every hitch of her hips, storing them up like treasures. Broad strokes to tease, delicate flicks to torment, suckling kisses that made her thrash and curse. I dipped down to tongue-fuck her in rhythmic thrusts, my nose bumping her clit, then dragged back up to focus on that aching bud, lashing and circling the hypersensitive flesh.

Christ, I could drown in her. Suffocate in her heat and her honey and die a happy man. She was a drug, one I'd gladly overdose on, one hit at a time.

My fingers joined the fray, two pumping deep, searching out that sweet spot that made her clench and mewl. I knew her body like my own, knew just how to drive her higher, tighter, to make her forget every name but mine.

"June. Fuck. Need you, please, now now now..."

The words were molten, desperate, everything I'd ever wanted to hear. My blood ignited, my control snapped, and I was scrambling up her body before she'd even finished the plea. My cock notched against her slick heat, the head nestling into her fluttering entrance like it was made to be there. Like I was made for her, in every way that mattered.

"Guide me in," I gritted out, holding myself still by a fraying thread. Barely. I wanted to plunge deep, to bury myself in her to the root, but I needed this more. Needed her to take me, to claim me, to obliterate any doubt that she wanted this, wanted us, as fiercely as I did. "Take what you need, Cara. Use me, ruin me, fucking tear me apart. I'm yours."

She did. Her hands flew to my hips, nails sinking in, and with a broken sob she wrenched me forward. I sank into her tight, writhing heat, and motherfucking Christ, nothing had ever felt so good. So right.

"Oh God." Her head thrashed on the pillow as I bottomed out, hilted so deep I swore she could taste me in the back of her throat. It was too much and not enough, every nerve ending lighting up like a switchboard. "Move, June. Goddammit, fuck me like you mean it!"

Something in me snarled in savage satisfaction. There was my girl. My warrior queen, giving as good as she got. Demanding her pleasure, taking her fill of me, of us, just as greedily as I took mine.

I obeyed with a roar, my control fracturing into a thousand glittering shards. I pounded into her, every stroke a declaration, a claiming, a promise. I love you. I need you. I'll never leave you again. She met me thrust for thrust, her cunt sucking me in, wringing me dry. So fucking good, so perfect, like we were made to fit together, two halves of a shattered whole.

The world narrowed to this. To her. The slap of flesh on flesh, the broken music of our mingled moans, the scent of our sweat and our sex thick in the air. There was no mission, no danger, no war waiting beyond these four walls. There was only us. Only this.

I felt her tightening around me, fluttering and clenching, and I knew she was close. Teetering on the sweet razor's edge of release. I snaked a hand between us, fingers finding her clit, circling in the ruthless way I knew she loved.

"That's it, baby. Give it to me. Wanna feel you come apart on my cock."

She did. Beautifully. Violently. Her orgasm tore through her like a hurricane, and I rode it out, stroking her through every aftershock and tremor. Sensation ripped through me, a feedback loop of pleasure that built and built, my balls drawing up tight and tingling with impending release.

"Say you're mine, Cara." I gritted out, my rhythm going erratic, my control slipping. "Fucking say it."

She arched like a bow, her nails raking desperately over my back. "Yours! God, June, always yours!"

The brutal pace turned incendiary, frantic. Two bodies careening into a cataclysm, chasing the oblivion of sensual overload. I could feel her tightening, tensing, her cunt rippling around my sensitive flesh in fluttery little convulsions. Close.

"So fucking tight," I panted into the crook of her neck. "So hot and slick and - fuck - milking my cock like you never want me to leave."

"Won't let you," she gasped, fingers clawing down my back, teeth latching onto my pulse point. "Never again. Swear it."

She was so fucking close.

"Come for me, like a good girl," I demanded, snaking a hand between us to circle her clit in ruthless strokes. "Soak my cock, lil' mama. Let me feel you lose it. Fucking drown me."

"Juniper!" My name was a ragged scream as she flew apart, spasming wildly around every raging inch of me. Her arms banded around my neck, holding me to her, refusing to let me go. As if I'd ever try. Her pleasure was my drug, my altar at which to worship. The only heaven I'd ever know.

I let go. My mind went blank, my vision whited out, and I emptied myself inside her with a hoarse shout. Jet after scalding jet pumped into her fluttering cunt, my cock jerking with the force of it. I swore I could feel my cum hitting her womb, painting her insides, marking her as mine on the deepest, most primal level.

The thought made me groan, my hips stuttering through a few last, sloppy thrusts. Fuck. I'd never needed anything like I needed her. This. Us.

I collapsed against her, my weight balanced on my forearms, my lips finding her sweat-slick skin. I peppered her face with kisses, tasting the salt of her tears, the lingering essence of her pleasure. She clung to me, her breath hitching on little sobs, and I soothed her with hands and mouth and whispered words.

"I've got you. I love you. Never letting you go again."

We stayed like that for long moments, our heartbeats gradually slowing, our breathing evening out. Joined. Fused. One flesh in every way that mattered.

When I finally slipped out of her, we both made a bereft sound at the loss. But I gathered her close, unwilling to let even an inch of space come between us. Her head found the crook of my shoulder, her leg thrown over my hip. A perfect tangle of limbs and hearts.

For a few precious, stolen seconds, I let myself imagine this was all there was. No danger, no war to fight, no impossible choices. Just her and me and the new life we'd created, cocooned in a blissful bubble of sex-soaked afterglow.

But reality crept in, cold and unrelenting as the moonlight slanting in through the blinds. I couldn't stay. Couldn't hide away in her arms forever, no matter how badly I ached to. There was work to be done, a nightmare to end.

Cara stirred against me, lifting her head. Her eyes met mine, fathomless and knowing in the darkness.

"You have to go." It wasn't a question. She knew. Of course she knew.

Pain lanced through me, sharp and sticky as the drying sweat on my skin. I never wanted to leave her again. Never wanted to see that look in her eyes, that quiet resignation and fear. But this was bigger than what I wanted. Bigger than both of us.

"Not forever," I vowed, catching her face in my hands. Not fucking forever. I'd burn the world down before I let that happen.

Her eyes searched mine, looking for truth, for certainty. I let her see it all - the love, the determination, the bone-deep certainty that nothing short of death itself would keep me from her side.

"Come back to me," she whispered, fierce and desperate all at once. A plea and a command and everything in between. "Promise me, June. Promise you'll come back."

"I will." The words seared my throat, my soul. An unbreakable vow, the truest words I'd ever spoken. "I swear it on my life, Cara. On our family. I will always, always come back to you."

One last kiss, searing and bittersweet. One last shared breath, one last brush of skin on skin. And then I was gone, slipping out of our bed, out of our home, out into the cold, unforgiving night.

But I carried her warmth with me, the feel and the taste and the scent of her, wrapping around my heart like armor.

One more fight. One more battle. And then, come hell or high water, I was coming home. To her. To us. To the future we'd forge together out of bullets and blades and the unbreakable steel of our love.

Elaine Deveaux didn't stand a fucking chance.