EPILOGUE DANTE AND WREN

It's fucking cold.

I never did much like the cold.

Blowing out some smoke, I scowl at the words still filling my air space and find a voice I"ve been holding back. "Sit your ass down before I put it down."

The guy keeps pacing about this old bar like something's gonna change his luck – still talking shit and still pissing on my mood. If it was up to me, nothing would be changing his luck anytime soon. I gotta listen, though, apparently. Abel said so. Do whatever Logan says, he said. Yeah, well, Logan fucking Cane said a lot of things about a lot of crap. And yeah, some of it was something about letting this guy – whatever the hell his name is – dictate where we draw the line of girls working across the block borders. Shame of it is, I don't agree. I know girls, and I know which of the old whores are in control regardless of their pimps. Was Logan's mother a whore? No. Mine was, and I understood that bitch inside out.

"You gotta get them to back up to where I'm putting them," he says, grumbling. "Logan agrees and-" I tune the rest the fuck out. Logan says? Screw Logan. What the hell does he know about working the streets and making sure pussy behaves itself? Nothing. He called us here to do that for him, didn't he? Let's not even discuss his inability to control the pimps out shooting substances up every goddamn crevice they've got. He wants his streets clean, then he can damn well heed a warning and watch me clean.

I stand and crush my smoke into the dirty carpet. "No."

He looks at me from the corner. "What?"

"I said no. We'll do it my way, or you can die. Whatever." He startles at that and backs up a step or two. "And if you're thinking about reaching for that piece under your jacket, don't. People have tried before. I still killed them while I was bleeding." I light another smoke and look around the space at the other guys in here. "You'll all be long dead before my lungs give in."

The atmosphere shifts, caused by my attitude, no doubt. I don't give a fuck. All these assholes could do with someone in their face. I'm it. And unless Kai or Knox are getting their asses here sometime soon, I'm working triple time and not trusting a soul.

I walk to stand in front of the original guy, taking a long, hard look at his thirty-something face. Logan said he's old school mafia, said something about him being trustworthy. I don't buy it. All he's doing is trying to close borders down and keep profits higher on his side of the blocks. "You're done. Go home to your mama and tell Logan I said he can go fuck himself if he thinks I'm hauling your ass around."

And then something's rushing at me from behind.

I turn, grab at a neck, and toss what belongs to it on the ground. A few sharp twists and my knee embeds itself onto the face heaving under me. His jaw cracks as I pull a gun from the side of my boot, aim at dick number two, and move myself so my back's to a wall. He does the fucking unthinkable and tries rushing me, too.

One shot, aimed at his neck, and he's on the floor with his hand trying to stem the bleeding.

My head turns for the original guy, barrel aimed. "I"ve got about one ounce of patience, and most of it"s gone." His hands go straight up in the air as the gurgling carries on beside and under me. "Jesus, are you all dense as fuck?" My head shakes. Even Shaw had more about him than this. In fact, in this goddamn moment, and for the last fuck knows how long, I've realised more and more how useful he was at his job. Might even miss his kind of backup and defence. "You running home to mama or are you gonna do as you're told and behave?" I push down on the face with my whole weight so I can stand again. "'Cause I don't have time for cunts who think they can out-manoeuvre me. You might as well all be dead if that's the case."

"No. I'm onside, Dragon. Whatever you say." Sneering, I turn back to dick number two on the floor, watching his colour drain away, and let out a shot to put him out of his misery.

Another death on my timesheet.

"That was Logan's godson," the guy says.

"God?" I snort, look down at the dead body, and head for the door. "God doesn't live here anymore. I do. If Logan wants his streets clean, he'll listen to the way we do it."

Dirty, cold air hits me as I get outside, and my boots sink into the snow. Part of me smiles at that. My Wrenbird likes the snow. She says it's like being a child again, like when we were young. I don't remember any snow, but if she does then I'm down with that memory.

"What's the plan then?" the guy asks as he comes out behind me. "Where do you want me?" In the Hudson.

I look back at him briefly. "What was your name?"

"Janello. Marco Janello." Never heard of him.

"Yeah. Whatever. Get that cleaned up inside. The other one's got a broken jaw and dislocated shoulder. I don't want to see him again. Tell Logan that." I light a smoke and look at the cars going by. Yellow cabs weave fast, like they're gonna kill someone soon. If I'm honest, I fucking love it here. It's dark, full of my kind of people, and ready for someone like me to introduce myself fully. "And tell him if he's got a problem with my way of dealing with the trash, he can come talk that through with me himself." A bunch of working girls walk by, all of them trying their best to hustle their streets. Not with me, though. They know that about me already. Six weeks of me being around has me recognised well. "I'll meet you here tomorrow night. Don't do anything dumb until then."

Walking takes me straight back to fifth and the main reason I agreed to this crap. She'll be up there, waiting for me after her long day working with wedding bullshit. And if she's happy to let me be who I am, and I get to have my family back, New York is fine by me. Abel needed me, and I understood that, but I wasn't doing a damn thing without her agreement. She surprised me with that. She said, and I quote, "You're not completely you unless you're with them, Dante." She was right, despite how much I love her. "I want all of you happy. You don't touch one single girl, though. Not one." So, I don't. Fact is, I don't want to touch another woman but her. Only her.

I turn onto our street, enter the building we"re calling home, and hit the elevators for the penthouse Logan gave us. Mine now. Abel doesn't want it, and Shaw didn't have enough seniority for it. Knox? Too damn cynical for anyone to be picking his place of living. He buys his own shit as and when he feels he needs it. As yet, neither he nor his wife are here full time.

The elevator doors open straight into the apartment, and I scan the dark space for Wren. Nothing but silence and more dark spaces greet me. I call her as I'm making my way around the place, then grab a bottle of bourbon from the wet bar. The liquor pours until I've got a healthy double and she still hasn't answered. Voicemail kicks in. I end the call, down my drink, and pour another to try stemming my own anxiety about where the fuck she is.

I don't like not knowing every move she makes. Never have. But we've argued about that some. She says she's allowed a life; I disagree unless I'm right by her side or know exactly where she is.

Still, to keep myself occupied, I walk for the outside area and let the wind batter me some. Apparently, this is what I need to do – let her breathe. She'll always come home, she says. Why wouldn't she? She loves me. And it's not like she's completely on her own. I had both Darius Hepez and Carlo Triaga flown in from back home when I agreed to all this. One helps me kill people, the other helps me understand where Wren is. She didn't have a choice in that and has made her feelings about it very fucking loud.

Doesn't stop me checking the tracking on my phone to see where she is. Seems like she's nearly home.

Smiling, I look down over the balcony. Lights blink and flash down there, and there's no way in hell I'm seeing her from this height. I sip at the bourbon and turn back for the inside, ready to pour her a shot. It's Friday night, and we've got plans even if I'm not in the mood for them. I'd rather stay here and relax the night away with my dick buried balls deep inside the woman I love.

We're gonna be arguing about that in the next ten minutes.

I wait by the elevator doors, staring, until they finally open.

She looks straight at me and cocks a hip. "Stalkerish much?" she says, laughing. "We talked about this, Dante."

I sip my drink again and look over her curves under that sharp suit. "I missed you."

"Well, that's sweet." She walks forward, clacking the marble floor with her heels, until she's looking up at me and smiling. "Did you check your tracking to see where I was?"

"Yeah."

"And where was I?"

"Coming home."

She gets up on her tiptoes and kisses me lightly. "Always." Another kiss lands on my lips before she's turning away from me and heading for the kitchen. "Go clean up. We need to get going. We've only got an hour."

I follow and take her drink to her. "I'd rather fuck."

She swings around on me and picks her drink out of my hand, eyes narrowing. The whole damn double gets downed, and then she's slamming it on the countertop. "You said you'd help. You're not backing out now."

My eyes roll, and I start walking for the goddamn lounge. "The fuck do I know about walking down an aisle?"

"Dante!" She catches up with me and grabs my arm, huffing. "It's ten minutes worth of your time, and then, well, you get to do whatever the hell you want. To me. That was the bargain." My brow raises. She's right. We did make that bargain, but I get to do that whenever I want to her most of the time, anyway.

Still, my own eyes narrow. "Ass." No way is she agreeing to that.

She backs up a step. "No. We've already discussed that. I don't like it."

"Not doing it then. Find some other pretentious dick to walk her down the aisle."

"But she wants you."

"She's not having me."

She starts getting all riled up, hands on hips again, and that look of rage comes down on her face. "Look, it's the wedding of the year, and who am I to tell her she can't have some bad boy look taking her down to the groom? You just happened to be there and said yes when she asked if you'd do it for the rehearsal." I did, to make sure Wren looked good. No way was I ever gonna do it, though. I thought she'd remove that problem long before this night.

Her hands come off her hips and she waves them around. "I knew you'd do this. It isn't like it's the actual wedding. She's got the rock god Astin Myers coming for that. Please, Dante. Don't screw this up for me." I smirk and lean back on the countertop.

"Ass."

"No."

I snort. "Yes." Still isn't happening even if she does agree, but I'll get ass so …

"Oh my god. You're such a fucking bastard."

"Yeah. And you know that. Gambling with me was dense, Wrenbird."

"And don't use that name against me. You promised! Why won't you do it now? It"s ten minutes, and this is important to me."

"Yeah? It's important to me not to."

"What? Why?"

My face softens. It isn't that I don't want to help her, but some things are sacred as fuck, and this is one of them. "You're the only one that gets me down an aisle, Wren. I'm only walking it once." Everything about her rage calms down, and she stares like she didn't expect that to come out of me. "You understand what I'm saying? I'm never walking an aisle without you coming down it for me."

Her mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. "I didn't … think about that. You've never mentioned anything about marriage."

"Yeah, well, maybe you don't understand what you mean to me. I'm not playing pretend with something like that. It's fucking rude."

She's still staring at me in shock. Don't know why. She's my fucking world. If she doesn"t know it by now, we're screwed.

"You want to get married?"

I sigh and take her hand, pulling her over to the sectional so we can sit. "Yeah."

"I'm …. I don't know what to say."

I look away from her towards the dark windows. "See, this is the goddamn problem. You ever thought about how hard it is to ask a wedding planner to marry you? I've had a ring on me for the last eight weeks, Wren, and every goddamn time I tried to find the right words or-" Her hand grabs my face and turns me, lips crashing into mine. They land hard, and she pushes her body over me until she's astride me and hitching up her skirt.

"God, I love you," she says between breaths. My hands find her ass and pull her in closer as she pulls her face back to look at me. "You could have asked me anywhere. Any moment." She tugs at her top, stripping it off her and tossing it aside. "I would have said yes anywhere. I might plan fairy tales, but that's not what I want. I want you, Dante. I need you."

"Yeah?"

"How do you not know that?" I look down at her chest, licking my lips, and shrug. "You're so bloody stupid sometimes. But, you know, just for prosperity's sake, ask properly."

"Will it get me some ass?"

She smiles. I smile.

Yeah, we'll do that another time.