When the last aftershocks subside, I carefully withdraw, watching as our cum begins to leak from her abused hole.
“My turn first,” Cyrus says, repositioning Keira onto her hands and knees.
He spreads her cheeks apart, exposing her glistening hole, then lowers his mouth to her entrance. His tongue delves inside, lapping at our combined release as Keira whimpers above him.
“Fuck, you taste good mixed with our cum,” Cyrus groans, his tongue working deeper.
When he’s had his fill, he looks up at me. “Your turn, brother.”
I take his place behind Keira, spreading her wide and diving in without hesitation. The taste of Keira mixed with our essence is intoxicating. I thrust my tongue deep, savoring every drop as she pushes back against my face.
When I pull back from Keira, we’re all breathless, sweat-slicked, and trembling. I watch as she collapses onto the mattress, her body spent and glistening. Cyrus and I follow, one on each side of her, our limbs entangled in a tangle of exhausted satisfaction.
We lie there for several moments, just breathing together. The weight that’s been crushing my chest since Keira’s abduction finally lifts. She’s here. She’s safe. Between us, where she belongs.
I lean in first, pressing my lips to hers with uncharacteristic gentleness. Not the consuming hunger I usually unleash on her mouth, but something softer—reverent almost. Her lips are swollen from our earlier roughness, yet she responds with equal tenderness, her hand coming up to cradle my jaw.
When I pull back, Cyrus takes my place, kissing her with the same careful adoration. His eyes close as he lingers against her mouth, speaking volumes without words. Where our bodies just claimed her with primal force, these kisses reclaim her with something deeper.
“Ours,” Cyrus murmurs against her lips.
“Always,” she whispers back, her fingers tangling with mine on her stomach.
I press my face into her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with ours. For the first time in my life, I can see beyond the next kill, the next mission. I can envision mornings drinking coffee together, evenings tangled on the couch. A future that doesn’t revolve around death.
Keira fits her body against mine while still holding Cyrus’s hand. The three of us connected by touch, by breath, by something I never thought possible for men like us.
“We can have this,” I say, the realization settling into my bones. “We can actually have this.”
Cyrus’s eyes meet mine over Keira’s head, and I see my own certainty reflected there. We’ve always survived together—now we can live together.
49
CYRUS
Iwake before the sunrise, my body already attuned to the significance of this day. The pale light filtering through our bedroom window casts soft shadows across the bed where Keira and Ace still sleep deeply. They’re tangled together—Ace’s arm thrown protectively across her waist, her back pressed against his chest, her hand reaching back to touch his thigh even in sleep.
Three hundred and sixty-five days since we first claimed her.
I prop myself up on one elbow, watching them breathe. Ace’s face, usually so guarded and calculating, looks younger in sleep, the sharp lines of his features softened. And Keira—fuck, she’s beautiful even with her hair a mess and yesterday’s mascara smudged beneath her eyes.
A year ago today, I was stalking her through Purgatory’s industrial maze, blood pumping with the thrill of the hunt, focused only on capturing our prey. Back then, she was just a target—a prize to be claimed and used for our pleasure, meant to be discarded once the Hunt ended.
How fucking wrong we were.
I reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She doesn’t stir, exhausted from last night. The marks we left onher skin—bite marks on her shoulder, finger-shaped bruises on her hips—tell the story of our possession. But they’re different now. Not just about ownership, but about belonging.
A year ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of feeling anything beyond physical hunger for our prey. The thought of needing someone other than Ace was incomprehensible. Now I can’t imagine a life without her between us, completing something I never knew was missing.
The Hunt was supposed to be seventy-two hours. We’d claimed women before, used them for the duration, then walked away without a second thought. But Keira—she got under our skin from the moment we cornered her against that concrete wall.
One year later, and she’s still here. Still ours. But we’re hers too, in ways I never thought possible for men like us.
I lie back down, watching as Ace’s fingers twitch against her skin, instinctively pulling her closer even in sleep. The three of us bound together, not by contracts or fear, but by something far more permanent.
Keira stirs beneath my gaze, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before those violet-blue eyes open and meet mine. For a moment, she’s disoriented, then recognition floods her features, followed by a soft smile that still fucking wrecks me every time.
“Good morning,” she whispers, voice husky with sleep.
