Yeah. I understand that now.
They exchange rings. They kiss. The crowd erupts in cheers.
And somewhere deep in my chest, something that’s been wound tight for days finally loosens.
It’s over. Really over. The monster is gone, my sister is married, and the man I love is watching me from the third row like I’m the only one here.
For the first time in four days, I let myself breathe.
CHAPTER 30
POPPY
Twenty-four hours ago, this was supposed to be a battleground.
The reception is held in the resort’s main ballroom. Fifty guests mingle during cocktail hour, laughing and clinking glasses, with no idea what almost happened here.
I pause at the entrance.
This is where Damien had planned to strike. This room, these people, this moment when everyone I love would be gathered in one place. He’d wanted maximum impact. Maximum witnesses. He’d wanted Julian to watch me die surrounded by my family, helpless to stop it.
Instead, my sister is posing for photos by the sweetheart table. My mother is critiquing the centerpieces to anyone who will listen. Preston and Serenity are doing some kind of couples’ meditation in the corner, which is annoying but not fatal.
And somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, wrapped in silver chains, Damien is beginning his eternity alone.
Julian appears at my side. His hand finds the small of my back.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Hard not to.” I watch a waiter pass with a tray of champagne. “This time yesterday, we weren’t sure how all this would end. Not knowing if you would or I would—you know,” I whisper, even though I’m pretty sure no one is listening. “Die. And now...”
“Now your aunt is arguing with the bartender about the proper way to make a martini.”
I follow his gaze. Aunt Dorothy is lecturing the poor bartender, gesturing with an olive pick.
A laugh escapes me. “How is this real? How are we just... at a wedding reception? Like everything’s normal?”
“Because for them, it is normal.” Julian rubs my lower back. “They don’t know what almost happened. They don’t need to know. They just get to celebrate.”
“And us?”
“We get to celebrate, too.” He turns me to face him. “That’s what winning looks like, Poppy. Not dramatic confrontations or constant vigilance. Just this. Ordinary moments. A dance floor. Bad martinis. Your family being chaotic.”
I look around the room again. See it differently this time.
Not a battleground. Not a crime scene that never happened.
Just a wedding reception.
“And if things get too rowdy, we have Nepenthe over there who can wipe people’s memories,” Julian says all nonchalant like that’s a normal thing.
“Wait, what!?!” I stop and turn him to face me.
“Huh...” He seems genuinely puzzled by my reaction. “Didn’t I tell you about Plan B?”
“No. No, you did not. I’m pretty sure I’d remember something like that.”
“Not if we wiped your memory, you wouldn’t,” he drops with a sly grin.
