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Iglance atRonnie, whose face is smeared with soot and blood, a wild look in her eyes.Shebreaks into a shaky laugh, andIcan’t help but join her.Thelaughter comes out as hysteria, the kind you only have when you’ve just come out of a nightmare.
Ronniefumbles in her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.Shewaves it in front of me with a triumphant grin. “Smoke?” she offers.
Imanage a tired smile, reaching into my own pocket for the box of matches.Ihold it up, wiggling it between my fingers. “Igrabbed these before the place started burning, just in case.”
Ronnietakes a cigarette from the pack, holding it out to me.Iaccept it, and she lights it.Afterthe tip catches fire, she sparks her own, and we both inhale deeply.
“Hellof a way to end the night,”Isay, taking a long drag.Ronnielaughs in response.
Ichuckle, shaking my head. “Ican’t believe we actually did it,Camila—Ronnie,”Icorrect myself. “Ifound you.Andall those women…Nomore.”
Ronnienods, her expression softening. “It’sover, andI’mnot going anywhere this time.”Herface morphs into something with a hint of amusement. “Rememberwhen you thought you were just going to sneak in, grab some info, and leave?”
Ilaugh, despite the pain in my side. “Yeah,Iremember.Thatwas before we blew the place up and had to run for our lives.”
“Quitethe twist,”Ronniesays, a smirk now playing on her lips. “Butlook at us.Itfeels almost poetic.”
Ilean back against the stone steps, feeling the heat on my skin. “Poeticand a bit absurd.”
Ronnietakes another drag from her cigarette, the embers glowing brightly in the darkness. “Guesswe’re the last ones standing, huh, butterfly?Morstua, vita mea.”
Ismile, leaning forward to captureVerónica’slips in a searing kiss.
“Morstua, vita mea.”
EPILOGUE
RONNIE
Isit in my office, the familiar sound of computers filling the silence.Ithas become a ritual, watchingValeriaas she starts her day.Thewhole mess with theWhitmoresmay be behind us—sort of—but it hasn’t dulled my need to see her every secondIcan.
Themonitors flicker to life, and there she is, stepping out of her bedroom, wearing nothing but panties and a paper-thin tank top.Hernipples press against the fabric, hair still damp, clinging to her skin like dewdrops on a petal.Mypulse quickens.God, she’s stunning.
Monthshave passed since that grim night at the estate, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.Yearsapart melted away as if they’d never existed, but it’s still not enough.Icrave her presence, day and night.I’vebeen begging her to move in with me for weeks, and finally, she gave in.
AsValeriamoves through the kitchen, a sense of calm washes over me.She’snot working today—it’sSaturday—but nothing changes her morning routine.Ilean back in my seat, taking a sip of my own drink, knowingI’llsee her soon to help pack up herthings.Still, even that anticipation can’t quell the urge to see her now.
Shepauses mid-step, glancing upward, her gaze locking onto the camera nestled atop the cabinets.Awicked grin spreads across her face, eyes gleaming.Slowly, her arm rises, and she flips me off, her grin turning into a devilish smirk.Mybreath catches.
Thememory of the night we came back to her place after burning down theWhitmoreestate flashes vividly through my head.
Thewind rushed past us as we rode my motorcycle,Valeriabehind me with her arms wrapped tightly around my waist.Icould feel the warmth of her body pressed against my back, her legs snug against mine.Herskirt had ridden up her thighs, exposing smooth skin that brushed against me each timeIshifted gears or leaned into a turn.Everytime she tightened her hold, a jolt of electricity crackled between us.Myheart raced faster, andIcouldn’t help but smile beneath my helmet.We’refinally back together.
Whenwe arrived atValeria’sbuilding,Islowed the bike, steering it into a parking spot.Theengine’s roar faded into a gentle purr beforeIcut it off.
Valeria’sgrip loosened, but she didn’t let go immediately.
WhenIturned my head, our eyes met as she lifted her helmet.Despitethe soot smeared across her face and the streaks of crimson staining her skin and clothes, she was a goddess—her hair a light, wavy cascade, her eyes fierce and alive.Thecontrast of the grime and blood only seemed to heighten her beauty, making her seem otherworldly, untouchable.Evenin her disheveled state, she was breathtaking.
“Howdo you know whereIlive?” she asked with a little bite in her tone, cutting through the silence.
Valeriacaught my mischievous smirk.
“Youknow what?Nevermind,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Whenwe reached her door,Istepped in behind her.Theair carried the faint scent of her perfume, and it made my insides fucking tingle.
Iglanced back atValeria, who stared at me with confusion.
