Page 178 of Legacy

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“I don’t care where. She doesn’t step foot in Opulent again.”

I glance back at Levon, barely conscious, slumped and sweating in the chair.

“And him?” Nico asks.

I grab the towel off the table and wipe my hands clean.

“Leave him. Text Vaska. Let him finish it.”

Nico nods and disappears up the stairs, already pulling out his phone.

I reach for my shirt on the back of the chair and tug it over my head, muscles still buzzing, blood cooling. Then I look at her.

She hasn’t moved.

I walk over, take her hand, gentler now, and curl my fingers around hers.

“Come on,” I murmur. “We’re going home.”

She lets me lead her out, dazed and blood-speckled, not saying a word.

But I can feel her pulse in her hand.

She’s still riding the edge.

And I don’t know whether I want to pull her back or dive in with her.

***

I don’t speak as we walk into the loft.

She’s quiet, holding herself together in the way only someone raised in this life can. Not crumbling. Not weeping. Just silent.

But I feel the tension coiled inside her like a spring, waiting for somewhere to go.

I take her to the bathroom.

One of my shirts in hand.

“Sit,” I murmur.

She obeys, folding herself down onto the closed toilet lid, her hands resting in her lap like she forgot they were covered in blood.

I wet a cloth under warm water and kneel in front of her.

Dio, her face.

Even now—flushed, speckled with someone else’s blood—she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her lashes still heavy, her lips parted just slightly. There’s a serenity in her expression that doesn’t make sense. Like she’s still adrift in the storm but somehow untouched by it.

I hesitate as I touch her face. Not from fear. Not even adrenaline.

Just awe.

I wipe her cheek slowly, reverently. Her skin is soft beneath the blood. Warm. Real. Mine.

My wife.

The word thunders in my chest.

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