Page 205 of After the Burn

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“Are we safe here?”

He looked toward the walls. “No.”

At least some things hadn’t changed.

I smiled. “But we’re safer than we were yesterday.”

Ben grunted.

I heard a laugh and looked to see the loves of my life headed toward me.

For the first time in a long time, tomorrow didn’t feel like a threat.

It felt like possibility.

EPILOGUE

ADRIAN-3 MONTHS LATER

The gates opened at sunrise.

Guards changed twice a day.

The gardens had overtaken the former food stands and souvenir booths, with vegetables now sprouting under signs for turkey legs and fairy wings.

Finley had turned the old first-aid building into a functioning clinic. Rory spent most days either there or wherever Avery and Emery were. Max standing guard over all of them.

Wren had appointed herself assistant to nearly everyone in the settlement, even though no one had actually appointed her to anything. Colson followed behind her, carrying whatever she collected.

Lately, she’d been spending a lot of time in the clinic. I was beginning to suspect that she had decided to ‘collect’ Finley. He didn’t seem to mind the attention, and I knew Colson would be on board with whatever kept her happy.

Ben trained every able-bodied person for several hours a day. Hopefully we’d all be ready when someone tried to take all of this from us.

There was no doubt in my mind it would happen eventually.

Taryn had somehow become involved in half the decisions made inside the walls despite repeatedly insisting she had no interest in being in charge.

No one believed her… least of all me.

Three months had been long enough for Beck and Lucas to become something I hadn’t anticipated when I first decided Taryn needed more than one man willing to die for her.

Brothers.

Not by blood, but something a little messier, and a lot stronger.

I’d wanted reassurance.

That was the coldest way to describe it. Three men gave her better odds of survival.

What I hadn’t planned for was Beck laughing so hard at something Lucas said that he nearly spit coffee across our table. Or Lucas silently handing Beck a whetstone because he’d noticed his knife needed sharpening. Or either of them watching my back as naturally as they watched hers.

Somewhere along the way, they’d become mine too.

Today, however, I was considering killing both of them.

“She’s late,” Beck said, running his fingers through his hair.