Page 104 of Rampage

She settles against the cushions, watching as I move through the familiar space, lighting a fire in the hearth then preparing tea in the kitchen. The domestic simplicity of these actions grounds me, pulling me fully back from the darkness of the basement.

When I return with two steaming mugs, I find Lily has curled her legs beneath her, a soft blanket draped over her lap. The firelight casts a warm glow across her face, showcasing the bruises, highlighting the quiet strength in her eyes.

"Come here," she says, patting the space beside her.

I settle next to her, careful not to jostle her injuries. She immediately shifts closer, tucking herself against my side where she fits perfectly, as if made for this space.

"I've been thinking," she says after a comfortable moment of silence, her fingers tracing patterns on my forearm. "About the bakery, about Eleanor's visit next month, about… everything."

"And?" I prompt gently when she pauses.

She takes a deep breath, her body expanding against mine. "I don't want to wait anymore. For anything." Her eyes meet mine, clear and determined. "Life is too unpredictable, too precious. These past few days have shown me that."

My heart quickens at the intensity in her gaze. "What are you saying, Lily?"

"I'm saying I want it all, with you. The bakery, this home, a future." Her voice drops to a whisper. "A family, someday. Everything we've talked about but have been too cautious to fully claim."

I cup her face in my hands, mindful of her bruises, overwhelmed by the gift she's offering. "You're sure? After everything that's happened?"

"Because of everything that's happened," she corrects gently. "Frank tried to break me. Walter tried to destroy me. But here I am, still standing, still loving you." Her hand covers mine, warm and real. "They couldn't take that from me. No one can."

Something shifts inside me, a final piece locking into place, completing a picture I hadn't realized was unfinished. This woman, who has endured so much pain and emerged stronger, braver, more determined, she is the miracle I never thought I'd find.

"Marry me," I say, the words escaping my lips before I can overthink them. "Not someday, not eventually. Soon. Be my wife, Lily."

Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. For a heartbeat, I worry I've pushed too far, too fast. Then a smile breaks across her face, radiant and sure.

"Yes," she breathes, her hands coming up to frame my face. "Yes, Reid Matthews. I'll marry you."

I kiss her then, pouring everything I cannot say into the press of my lips against hers—my devotion, my pride, my awe at her resilience. She responds with equal fervor, her body arching toward mine despite her injuries.

When we finally part, both breathing heavily, I rest my forehead against hers. "I don't have a ring yet," I admit. "This wasn't exactly planned."

She giggles, the sound like music to my ears after so many hours of fear and pain. "I don't need a ring to know I'm yours," she says, her fingers threading through my hair. "But I wouldn't say no to one, either."

I laugh against her lips, feeling lighter than I have in days. "I'll get you the most beautiful ring in the world. Something worthy of you."

"As long as it comes with you attached, I don't care what it looks like," she teases, nestling back against my chest.

We sit in comfortable silence, watching the flames dance in the hearth. Her breathing gradually slows, her body growing heavier against mine as exhaustion claims her. I shift carefully, cradling her against me as I stand.

"Bed," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She makes a sleepy sound of agreement, her arms looping around my neck as I carry her to our bedroom. The space feels different somehow, more sacred, more ours than ever before. I lay her gently on the bed, helping her out of her clothes and into one of my t-shirts that she loves to sleep in.

"Stay with me," she whispers as I tuck the blankets around her.

"Always," I promise, stripping down to my boxers and sliding in beside her.

She immediately curls against me, her head finding its place on my chest, right over my heart. My arms encircle her, protective and reverent.

"Thank you," she murmurs, already drifting toward sleep.

"For what?" I ask, my fingers combing gently through her hair.

"For finding me. For loving me. For everything."

I tighten my hold, overwhelmed by the trust she places in me. "Thank you for fighting. For surviving. For choosing me."

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