Luca arched a brow. Bastion narrowed his eyes like he couldn’t tell if I was insulting him or handing him the highest honor of his life.
“Now whothinks a lot of themselves?” Luca drawled.
I shrugged. “I mean, itwasa moment. Historic, even. Someone should’ve filmed it.”
Bastion crossed his arms. “Someone better not have filmed it.”
“Relax,” I smirked. “I’m notthatinsane.”
“You say that like we didn’t find you trying to climb out of bed two hours after passing out from being wrecked,” Luca muttered.
I rolled my eyes. “Because I needed to pee, not because I was trying to make a dramatic escape.”
“You could’ve asked for help,” Bastion muttered.
“Yeah, and risk one of you carrying me to the bathroom like a wounded Victorian heroine? I’m good, thanks.”
Luca scoffed. “You kind ofarea wounded Victorian heroine.”
“Emilia Adams doesn’t faint,” I said, lifting my chin with mock dignity. “She crumbles gracefully after eight orgasms and too much praise.”
They both laughed—reallylaughed this time, the tension finally breaking.
But then Luca looked at me—reallylooked—and the smile softened into something quieter. More dangerous.
“We are obsessed,” Luca said, voice low.
Bastion didn’t argue. He just nodded once, like it was an oath. “We’re not broken. But we’re definitely ruined.”
“For anyone else,” Luca finished.
I blinked.
The words landed in my chest like they’d been carved there. Final. Unapologetic. True.
Then Luca’s eyes dropped to the velvet ribbon still tied around my throat.
“Good thing we’re going to marry you,” he said casually, like it was inevitable.
Bastion leaned in. “Tattoo our family crest and our names on your back.”
Luca’s voice turned reverent. “Build our crime empire with your name inked on our back.”
I stared at them. Mouth dry. Tea forgotten in my hand.
“You’re serious,” I whispered.
“Of course we are,” Bastion said, eyes hard. “Isn’t that whatyouwant?”
The question hit deeper than I expected. I took a slow sip of tea, mostly to stall, to give myself something to hold on to. I stared down at the steam for a moment before answering.
“It’s not about what I want,” I said, voice quiet. “In our world, what youwantand what youdoare rarely the same thing.”
They didn’t respond right away. Justwatchedme. Like I was a riddle they were still learning how to unfold.
I exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to promise me a future. Not right now. This—” I looked between them, then around the room, the velvet at my neck, the bruises I could still feel like fingerprints against my skin, “—this is enough.”
But even as I said it, something tugged inside me.