Page 141 of The Endless Want

Something in my chest explodes with warmth.

“Cian,” I repeat, kissing the top of our son’s head. “Perfect.”

Hours later, I wake in recovery, the haze of labor replaced by a heavy exhaustion. The room is dim, the machines humming softly, something gentle and warm tucked around my shoulders. I shift slightly, enough to see a figure sitting beside me.

Liam.

He’s not in command mode—not barking orders, not scowling. He looks… tired, but softer than I’ve seen him in months. His posture is loose, one hand resting on his knee, the other draped over the back of the chair like he’s been sitting there a long time.

“Hey,” he says quietly, noticing I’m awake.

“Hi.” My voice is small, a little raw.

“Baby’s with the midwife,” he adds. “Declan’s pacing holes into the hallway carpet. Mackenzie threatened to sedate him.”

I laugh—weak, breathy, genuine.

Liam watches me for a moment, then his expression shifts. “You scared the hell out of us.”

“I scared myself,” I admit softly.

He nods, taking that in. For a long moment, the only sound is the quiet hum of machines and the faint echo of voices in the hallway.

Then Liam leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at me in a way that strips away all rank and all distance. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. “And I’m glad he was there for you.”

My throat tightens. “He was,” I whisper. “In every way that mattered. Even when he was falling apart, he held it together for me.”

Liam’s gaze softens—real, genuine softness that I rarely see. “He loves you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Emotion rises so fast it blindsides me. “I didn’t know if you trusted me,” I confess quietly. “These last months… I wasn’t sure.”

Liam exhales, leaning back in the chair. “I trusted you. Every step. But I had to balance it with the job. With the war. With all the eyes on us.” He pauses, voice low. “You’ve carried more weight than most people twice your size and twice your rank. And you did it while carrying a child.”

He looks at me like he’s seeing me differently now—not as a subordinate. Not as a friend. But as something more.

“You’ve earned your place,” Liam says, voice steady. “With or without Declan. If you want a permanent seat at the table—if you want to shape this organization going forward—it’s yours.”

The words land like a new dawn.

Part of me wants to cry again. Part of me wants to argue. But most of me just nods, because for the first time since this all began, I believe it too.

“Thank you, Liam,” I whisper. “Really.”

He gives a small, rare smile. “Get some rest, Ailish. Your boys are waiting.”

My boys.

Ailish

EPILOGUE

I never imagined the Irish could be sentimental, but the morning of my wedding proves me wrong. The estate Liam secured for the ceremony sits on a rise above the lake, its old stone walls wrapped in garlands of white heather and soft green foliage. The early summer light glints off the water, warm and golden, and for a few precious hours the world looks untouched by war, untouched by the Vore, untouched by everything that nearly destroyed us.

I stand before the mirror as Mackenzie buttons the back of my gown, her hands steady despite the chaos she and I have grown used to living in. The dress is simple—silk, long sleeves, fitted bodice—but the moment I slip into it, something weightless settles over me. A kind of peace. Or maybe disbelief.

“You look like you belong on a throne,” Mackenzie murmurs behind me.

“Don’t start,” I say, though a smile tugs at my mouth. “If this goes sideways, I’ll be lucky to make it down the aisle without a gunfight.”