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The warmth of happiness and family settles around me.
“My forever,” I tell him.
“My always,” he agrees.
Epilogue – Dom
I lean back against the cushioned seat, putting my arm behind Valentine, as King hands the stack of menus to the server.
“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow.” Savannah sighs.
“I know,” Payton agrees from her seat across from Savannah. “It was fun to spend New Year’s down here. We should make Chicago a tradition.”
Nero grunts, and I don’t know if it’s in agreement or annoyance, but I’ve seen them together enough over the last few days to know he’ll do whatever she wants.
Val takes a sip of her root beer and leans into my side.
Since it is our last night all together, we decided to do a dinner out. And when Val requested Thai food, I knew this would be the perfect place.
We’re near the back of the dining room, in a large U-shaped booth, with me and Val along the back. Usually, I wouldn’t let myself be trapped like this, but with Nero and King on the two outer spots, I’m not worried. Those dickheads can handle whatever might happen.
A different server, this one wearing a full suit, stops at the end of our table, straight across from me, and sets a tray of spring rolls down.
“A gift.” His head is tipped down, and his voice is low.
I sit up straighter.
Something is off.
Then the man lifts his head, looking straight at me. “Evening.”
“The fuck—” I start to get up, forgetting that I have nowhere to go.
King and Nero snap their gazes to ourserver.
They both start to move, but Hans uses his empty hand to pull his jacket back, showing his other hand tucked under the fabric, holding a live grenade.
A mother fucking grenade.
He takes a small step back, wisely putting himself out of Nero’s reach.
I move my arm from behind Val to in front of her. Blocking as much of her as I can from this monster. “What do you want?”
His eyes meet mine. “Just a quick chat.”
“Could’ve called,” Nero growls.
Hans shakes his head, his long hair shifting against his shoulders. “This is more of a face-to-face thing.”
Val’s indrawn breath pulls Hans’s gaze to her.
“Don’t fucking look at her,” I snap.
But it’s not Hans who speaks next. It’s Valentine.
“It’s you,” she breathes, then turns to me. “It’s him.”
“Him who?” King asks, and I notice him trying to inch out of the booth.
