Page 107 of Princess of Vengeance

He’s gone, and I have no idea how to feel about it.

“Nico?” Quinn’s voice breaks through the fog. “What’s wrong?”

I turn to look at her, and see Atlas and Killian also watching me with concern.

“My father died.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, moving to sit on my lap and wrap her arms around my shoulders. I circle my arms around her waist automatically, and bury my face in the crook of her neck.

“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused. “You never even met him. And it’s not like he was much of a father.”

“I’m sorry because you lost your family,” she says simply.

Something fills my chest at her words—not grief, but a sudden, sharp clarity that hits me like a punch to the gut. I pull back, looking up at her.

“No,” I shake my head. “I didn’t lose my family.”

Her brow furrows in confusion.

“My family is in this room,” I tell her, looking from her pretty face to Atlas and Killian. “It’s you. It’s them. You three are my family. The only family I’ve had that’s ever mattered.” I tighten my grip on her waist. “And I’m not going to lose a single one of you.”

She searches my face for a moment, then leans down to press her lips to mine in a soft kiss.

When she pulls back, there’s a strange look on her face—determined, almost solemn.

“Get up,” she says suddenly, sliding off my lap. “All of you.”

We exchange confused glances but do as she asks, standing in a loose circle in the middle of the kitchen.

Quinn takes a deep breath, then reaches out to take my hands in hers as she looks up at me.

“I, Quinn Kent, take you, Nico Morelli, to be my husband,” she begins with a steadiness and certainty in her voice that makes me start to smile in spite of the news I’ve just heard. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

The vows are similar to the ones we spoke at our first wedding. But this time, there’s no audience. No ceremony. Just raw truth between us.

She turns to Atlas next, taking his hands. “I, Quinn Kent, take you, Atlas Demaro, to be my husband,” she repeats, then does the same with Killian.

“What are you doing?” Atlas asks when she finishes. There’s an uncertainty in his voice, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what he’s just been a part of.

“Marrying all three of you,” she says simply. “Maybe not on paper, but who the fuck cares about paper? I want to be your wife. And I want all three of you to be my husbands.”

A full smile breaks out across my face now, and a surge of love rises in my chest. Without hesitating, I take her hands again.

“I, Nico Morelli, take you, Quinn Kent, to be my wife,” I say, the words feeling right and real in a way they didn’t the last time we both spoke them. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

Atlas and Killian follow, each taking their turn to speak their vows to her. Atlas’s voice is gruff with emotion, and even Killian’s usual expressionless stare cracks a little as he pledges himself to her.

When the last word is spoken, Quinn looks at each of us in turn, her eyes bright with emotion.

“Kiss your wife,” she says with a small smile.

I’m the first to reach for her, cupping her face in my hands as I press my lips to hers. The kiss is gentle but deep, and Atlas takes my place when I pull back, then Killian.

She was right. We don’t need a piece of paper to be married. We just need the four of us, bound together by choice and love and blood.

“I wish I had my tattoo equipment here,” she says, looking around the sparse kitchen. Her eyes land on a knife on the counter, and she reaches for it. “But this will do.” She holds up the blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” we answer in unison without a second of hesitation.

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