“Yeah, and all that shit.” I let my head fall against hers, exhaling a breath I’d been holding for years.
It was done.
I was finally fucking free.
59
Sophie
Night had fallen with a heavy silence around us, the kind that only comes after a devastating storm has passed, tearing everything apart and leaving an unnatural calm in its wake. We sat on the leather couch in our living room, me twirling my wine glass with my fingers and Maverick staring up at the ceiling.
“My mother called again,” I said, breaking the stillness. It had been two weeks since that night in the warehouse. “She’s… relieved. Says she can sleep now, knowing your family won’t come after her or my sisters.”
Maverick draped his arm over my shoulder, his fingers idly playing with a lock of my hair. There was a shadow in his eyes, one that spoke of a darkness we both shared, but it was slowly receding each day. “Yeah?” he replied, his voice low and laced with the gravel of unshed emotions. “That’s good. That’s what we wanted, right?”
“Right,” I affirmed, feeling the finality of our actions. We had stepped into an abyss together, and the cartel was now ours—mine just as much as his. But so very different from how his family had ran it.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s enough, you know?” Maverick continued, his confession barely above a whisper. He was taking this harder than either of us had expected. “If all the shit we’ve been through… if it’s served its purpose.”
His face was hard, a sculpture of resilience, but his eyes betrayed the vulnerability that few had ever witnessed. “It’s more than enough,” I said firmly. “We did what we had to do. For my family, for your future, for us.”
There was a pause, a moment where we both acknowledged the price of our freedom.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently, needing to hear the words even though I felt the truth of them in the way he held me close.
Maverick’s lips quirked up in a half smile, but there was warmth there, a flicker of the humor that drew me to him despite the chaos that always seemed to follow. “Baby, I killed my own flesh and blood to keep us safe. ‘Okay’ is a relative term.”
“Smartass,” I shot back, a smile tugging at my own lips.
“Yeah, but I’m your smartass,” he retorted, and this time the smile reached his eyes, bringing me a sense of relief as much as it did a wave of heat to my core.
Because this man… I burned for him. I begged for him. And I broke for him. And I would do it every day for the rest of my life.
“Always,” I whispered, leaning in to capture his lips with mine, sealing our unspoken promise to move forward, together, through whatever lay ahead.
60
Maverick
EPILOGUE
Six months later
The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the terrace where Liam and I stood, manning the grill. The charred scent of searing meat filled the air, mingling with the laughter that spilled from inside the penthouse. It was one of those rare, quiet moments when life felt almost normal—deceptively peaceful.
“Medium rare, right?” I asked, flipping a steak. “Can’t have you poisoning your pregnant wife with overcooked beef.”
Liam chuckled, the sound rough around the edges just like his demeanor. “She’d probably gut me before the food did,” he joked, but there was a softness in his eyes now whenever heglanced toward the living room, where Callie and Sophie were sitting on the couch with Sophie’s hand on Callie’s baby bump. Wednesday nudged her head between them, and they both pet her in response.
Wednesday was a bit of an attention whore that way.
Shifting the conversation to what had been an ever-present unspoken tension between us, I said, “I know we’ve had our differences, man. But I want you to know—I respect you. You’ve been good to Sophie despite her veering down a different path than you and Callie. It means more to her than either of you will ever know.”
It felt odd, offering an olive branch after months of distrust, but the impending arrival of their child changed things. Made the old grudges seem petty.
He met my gaze squarely, the lines of past conflicts etching his face. “And I respect you, Maverick. Hell, I didn’t always understand your methods, or your… relationship with Sophie, but I can’t argue with where you two ended up. You’re doing some real good, cleaning up those messes. Even if it’s the furthest thing from lawful, I’m not going to balk at people trying to save the women and children.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I replied, feeling a weight lift off my chest. We clinked beer bottles in a silent toast just as Callie’s joyful squeal pierced the air. She had discovered the tiny pair of leather boots we’d bought for the baby—Sophie’s idea of a joke gift.
