Page 215 of The Fire We Make

“She is my daughter.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Ace growled. “You lost all rights to her in my eyes the moment you tossed her out. You don’t deserve her.”

“And you do?”

“Nah,” Ace smiled, looking down at Joy. “But the difference between me and you is that I know I don’t… and I’ll do my best to earn her anyway rather than break and use her.”

Joy’s breath caught in her throat.

Ace’s voice dropped, his plea just for her. “Kiss me, Rose.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” Ace said, motioning around the room at the group of men chomping at the bit to take pieces of her for their own power and pleasure. “Let me love you. Let me choose you just as you are. Let me show you it’s possible. I’ll spend every fucking day proving it to you.”

Joy was silent for a moment.

The room stilled and everyone held their breath.

Inside, Joy recalled every moment of control.

Every time she was used and abused.

Every time she was shamed.

It all clicked for her in that moment. This mental illness she’d been fighting. The one that had been exploited to the point of abuse. It was because she was constantly made to feel unsafe.

She wasn’t crazy or unstable, she was just giving herself what the men around her never did.

It occurred to Joy that the only episode she’d had since being with Ace was at the gala with Jermaine’s father. Her body never felt the need to defend herself around him. Her heart and mind put up walls but her soul knew it was safe.

He and his family had never shamed her for her blood lust and they’d never used it for their own gain. Every body she caught with them was not for acceptance or an order. It was because she wanted to.

Everything she’d fought for, Ace gave freely.

Everything she hid, Ace loved.

In that moment, Joy didn’t snap, she decided.

She decided she didn’t want to fight for acceptance anymore.

She didn’t want to play her role and stay in a space that never brought her comfort.

So, she cupped the side of his face with her hand, raising on the tips of her toes to reach him, and she kissed him.

There, in front of Byron. In front of Jermaine. She didn’t just choose Ace, she chose agency.

She chose herself and the life and love she wanted and deserved.

Chapter Forty-Eight

With one hand still gripping the handle of his gun, Ace wrapped both arms around Joy’s waist, bringing her flush against him as he deepened the kiss.

They kissed without a single regard for decency or the several pairs of eyes watching them.

For a moment, the world narrowed. There was no Cartel. No expectations. No past clawing at her back.

Just him. The heat of his mouth, the weight of his hands, and the peculiar way he made her feel both steady and off kilter.

Joy wondered how she thought she could ever live without this. She wondered why she’d ever force herself to.