Chapter 6 : The Only Truth
Six Months Later.
The Mediterranean sun was intensely warm, reflecting off the azure waters of the Amalfi Coast.
I sat on the terrace of a sprawling white villa, a laptop open in front of me, sipping an espresso. I was analyzing the quarterly reports for a legitimate, high-end cybersecurity firm I had founded. My name was no longer Sloan Hart. My identity had been officially erased the day the Whitmore Board was indicted.
I was officially a ghost.
And it was the most peaceful I had ever felt.
Footsteps sounded on the stone terrace behind me. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me back against a solid chest. The scent of sea salt and bergamot washed over me.
"You're working on a Sunday," Killian murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.
"I'm securing the network for our new client," I said, leaning back into his embrace, closing my eyes. "Someone has to keep the business running while you 'manage problems'."
Killian walked around the chair and leaned against the balcony railing, looking at me. He was wearing linen trousers and a loose white shirt. The dark, dangerous edge that had defined him in Chicago hadn't disappeared, but it was softened here. Grounded.
When the dust had settled in Chicago, the syndicate was dismantled. Arthur Whitmore was facing life in federal prison. The Valesco cartel was fractured by the leaked ledgers.
Killian had tried, one last time, to leave me. On the tarmac, standing in front of the private jet that would take me to Europe, he had told me I deserved a normal life. A safe life.
I had slapped him. Hard.
“I don’t want a safe life,” I had yelled at him over the sound of the jet engines. “I want my life with you. If you get on this plane without me, I will spend the rest of my days hacking your bank accounts just to ruin your day.”
He had laughed, picked me up, and carried me onto the plane.
Now, looking at him in the sunlight, I realized how far we had come from that dark hotel suite.
"We have a problem," Killian said, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"What kind of problem? Cartel? Interpol?" I reached for my phone automatically.
"Worse." Killian reached into his pocket. "Jax just messaged. She bypassed the security on that new Italian intelligence contract you drafted. She wants a raise."
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Tell her I'll double her rate if she stops eating my organic snacks when she visits."
Killian chuckled, stepping forward. He gently closed my laptop, the click finalizing the end of my workday. He reached down, taking my hand, his thumb tracing the knuckles.
"I have a different proposition," he said softly.
He didn't drop to one knee. That wasn't who we were. But he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it. Inside was a ring—not a gaudy diamond, but a sleek, dark band of tungsten interlaced with a single, flawless sapphire.
It was strong. Unbreakable. Just like us.
"I hired you for one night," I whispered, staring at the ring, my heart expanding in my chest. "You're trying to extend the contract?"
"For life," Killian said, his gray eyes locking onto mine, holding all the fierce, unwavering devotion of a man who had finally found a reason to stop fighting the world. "No pretending. No lies. Just you and me, Sloan. Managing whatever comes next. Together."
I looked up at the man who had terrified a city, the man who had bled for me, the man who had given me the truest version of myself.
I didn't flinch. I just smiled.
"I accept the terms."
May you like
He slipped the ring onto my finger, and as he pulled me into his arms under the bright Italian sun, I knew exactly what I was. I wasn't leverage. I wasn't an asset.
I was his equal. And we were entirely, undeniably free.
