Page 38 of Death By Chocolate

“Mom?” The word comes out as a broken whisper, years of longing and loss compressed into a single syllable. My hands shake as I reach for her, afraid she'll disappear like smoke, like all the dreams I’ve had of this moment.

More sounds of fighting from above—Corso's familiar voice calling Javier is dead, Cookie's creative cursing. My father's body slumped at my feet.

“It’s me, baby.” Her eyes, so like mine, fill with tears. "I never stopped looking for you. Not for one day. Fleur is here, too. We have to move." The years of searching, of pain, of never giving up echo in her voice. My chest aches with the weight of understanding—while I thought she'd abandoned me, she'd been fighting to find me, to save me.

Xeno touches my shoulder, gently, despite the blood on his hands. "Ready to finish this?"

I chamber another round. "Born ready."

We move through the compound like death's own shadow. My bare feet leave bloody prints on pristine white tiles—I stepped in Rhys’ and my father's blood. It seems fitting.

We find Omar in the onsite hanger trying to board his private jet. His face lights up when he sees me, that same possessive perversion that chilled me minutes before. Now it just makes me realize he must suffer.

“You think this is over Daniella, I’ll never stop hunting you,” he says, spreading his arms like he expects me to let him live.

“Wrong.” I squeeze the trigger. I put two rounds in him, the first in his dick, the second, in his knee. “Tap. Tap.”

He looks surprised as he falls. They always do.

Later,—Omar and my father will learn exactly what happens when you cage a predator, after Rhys and his conspirators bleed out their betrayals into pristine snow—Xeno pulls me close in the flight home.

"You needed me," he murmurs against my hair. “And I needed to be here for you.”

I think of his sword flashing in the dark, of the perfect synchronicity of our fight. Of trust earned and chosen, notcommanded or coded. Of the way he let me take my revenge, standing guard but never stepping in.

"Yeah," I say, letting myself lean into his warmth. For the first time since I lost connection to House, my mind is quiet. Peaceful. "I know." I reach for his hand. "I'm sorry."

"I know." His fingers intertwine with mine. "We've got work to do, you and me. There's still people in you, the organization, who will want you dead.”

"Let them try," I say, and I feel whole for the first time in days. "We'll handle it together."

He tugs me onto his lap, blood be damned until I can feel his breath on my lips. The familiar scent of sandalwood on his skin tickles my nose. I inhale, pulling him deeper into my lungs. Never with this man will be too soon, but I take it. I choose him.

“Together," he agrees. "But first, you’ll make this up to me. Fucking breaking us up, my nuts swinging, that damn tranq gun.”

I kiss him then, gently but thoroughly, tasting promise and possibility. The sun rises over the mountains, painting the snow crimson and gold. Like blood. Like redemption. Like love. I close my eyes and let myself fall, knowing he'll catch me. Some risks are worth taking, after all. Being a protector isn't just about keeping others safe—it's about being brave enough to let someone protect your heart, too.

EPILOGUE

FAMILY REUNION

The Louisiana swamp breathes around us—thick, wet air heavy with the scent of decay and renewal. I thought, how poetic to bring us back to the place where all the family ties and lies started. Crickets chorus their approval as I drag Omar's struggling form deeper into the darkness. My mother follows with my father, her gun steady at his back. The moon hangs low and yellow, painting everything in sickly shadows. I’m wearing black leather tonight, with matching gloves, a gift from Xeno. My AI-enhanced uniform hangs in a closet at The Governor, and House, well—we needed a vacation for each other.

"Please, Daniella," Omar whimpers, his designer suit torn and muddy, blood still seeping from his wounded knee and groin. Why bother with bandages? Besides, everyone’s hands are full. “The money in the crypto accounts. Keep it. I can get you more—”

"Shut up." I give the rope another sharp tug, sending him face-first into the muck. "I already have everything I want." But it was nice to learn that I’ve had sole access to my dead husband’s assets for a decade.

Xeno's eyes meet mine in the darkness, a flash of understanding and fierce pride. He knows what it cost me to say those words, to finally mean them.

He shuffles the glass case he’s holding to his already full left hand and then pulls something from his pocket. I realize they’re my panties, the ones he pushed aside an hour before fucking me fast and hard. He’d unloaded his nut all over them. I stare at him in confusion when he jerks Omar’s head back—hard, forcing his mouth to hinge open.

“You wanted a taste of my Dani,” he whispers in our prisoner’s ear.

“No,” Omar sobs.

“I have a parting gift for you,” Xeno grins. Then, to my astonishment, he shoves the cum-soaked panties deep into Omar’s throat. “Choke on my nuts, bitch ass fucker.”

“Damn,” I shake my head at his creativity. “That’s nasty.’

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