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"I trust you to keep me safe." She leans into my palm. "Just... don't make me live somewhere that feels like a prison."

"You'll have all you need. I promise." I kiss her forehead. "And after that? After we're settled?"

"What happens after?"

"I get you a ring. A real one, not something grabbed in a panic. Then we plan the wedding—small, just us, when the time is right." I look at her. "And we live, Francesca. We build something in the middle of all this violence."

"You really think we can do that?"

"Yeah." I pull her close, her pulse steady against my chest. "You said yes. That's all that matters. Everything else, I'll handle."

She's quiet, then: "Will it always be like this? The violence, the wars, the killing?"

"Probably." I won't lie to her. Not about this. "But you'll be safe. I'll make sure of it."

"And if I can't live with it? If it's too much?"

I tilt her chin up, force her to meet my eyes. "Then you'll learn to live with it anyway. Because you're mine, Francesca. And I don't let go of what's mine."

She should be scared. Should pull away.

Instead, she kisses me.

The kiss isn't gentle or tentative—it's hard and claiming and just as possessive as I am.

When she pulls back, her eyes are clear and certain.

"Then I guess we're doing this."

"We're doing this."

And just like that, I know it's going to be okay—not easy, not clean, not anything close to normal, but okay.

Because she chose me knowing what I am and seeing what I'm capable of. She chose the monster and decided to stay.