I hit the floor with a thud and suddenly understand everything vividly. Love lets you see colors for the first time. It paints the world around you in vibrant hues, but once you think you’ve lost that love, it goes gray. Everything around me dims, and I’m certain my life will never make sense again. I’ll know the pain my mother feels.

I’ve lost my perfect match.

Lost him in a way I’ll never forgive.

I lift the gun and wait for Erik to charge. I’ll riddle him with holes the way he’s just done to me.

“Did you get him?” Mark asks while keeping me covered.

He’s alive! “Where are you hit?” I attempt to lift him, but he won’t budge.

“Charlie?” Mandi’s voice rings out. “Are you guys okay?”

Mark rolls to his side and I get to my feet. “Is Erik—?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“He’s down,” she reassures me.

Mark’s clutching his side. I rush to him. “Were you shot?” Mandi has Erik in the hall.

“No, but give me the gun.”

I’m fully aware of what he wants to do. I want the same thing. I need to make sure this is the end. “I need five minutes with him.”

“The fuck you do.”

I don’t respond. I just walk out the door and lift my gun to Erik’s head, as he lies bleeding in the corridor. The piece of shit clutches his leg. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that if you put a gun to my head, you’d better pull the fucking trigger.”

Mark comes from behind me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and lowers the gun. “There’s no way you’re going to do this.”

Mandi keeps her gun trained on him. “A bus is coming.”

Sirens wail in the background. Mark crouches down, and his voice is cold as ice. “If you ever come near me, Charlie, Jackson, or Aaron, I’ll rip you to shreds.” His hand hovers over Erik’s wound. He pushes his fingers inside the bullet hole. When Erik screams out, Mark twists his finger again. “If you think you’ve suffered, it will be nothing compared to the hell I’ll make you live through. You’re the fucking coward.”

He stands, and kicks Erik’s leg for good measure.

“I . . .” he struggles to catch his breath. “Win.”

“What?” Mark asks and glances my way.

This isn’t over.

Erik reaches down, pulls a gun, and places it to his temple. Before any of us can move or stop him, he pulls the trigger.

“Son of a bitch!” Mark screams while he pulls me against his chest. “Fuck!”

Now it really is over.

A sob breaks from my throat, and I start to shake.

“It’s okay.” He rubs my back. Every emotion I’ve contained floods forward.

My chest heaves, and I fall apart in his arms. “I can’t . . .” I try to take in air, but it becomes too hard. “Breathe.” Cries escape, and I mutter incoherently.

“I’ve got you, Charlie,” he whispers against my ear. “It’s all over now.”

I’ve seen people die. I’ve witnessed executions, suicides, and gruesome scenes, but this was personal. This man tried to kill me and Mark. He could’ve, at any moment, taken all that’s precious from me. He wanted to, but Mandi stopped him. I cry for the pain. I sob for the baby I protect inside me. I let go of all the hurt, pain, fear, and anger that has controlled me. I fall, but Mark keeps me safe. He holds me, just letting me feel it all as I soak his shirt.

And all I can think is, he’s got me and I’ll be okay now.

“How are you doing?” Mark asks for the umpteenth time.

“If you ask me again, I’ll punch you in the balls. Those weren’t injured, right?”

He smirks. “You love my balls.”

“Oh, dear God. I’m never going to marry you. I can’t even stand you.”

It’s been nine days since the shooting at the safe house. Erik’s death was ruled a suicide. Mandi corroborated our story by saying she found him threatening us and then he took his own life. It’s been a crazy week, but I’m happy to be moving forward.

“Priscilla is expecting us in twenty minutes.”

“Your point?”

“We have time for a quickie.” His eyes are alight with mischief.

He’s been trying to convince me for two days. When we took him to the hospital, weaving a story about how he was jumped trying to save my life, he stayed for all of two hours after they cleared him of any complications. Since then, he’s deluded himself into believing he’s ready for a sexfest.

“No.”

“No, like final no, or no like push me against the wall and have your wicked way with me? You could just help a brother out and give me a blow job.”

Men.

“I could, but I’ve had this lockjaw thing.” I open and close my mouth, making a chomping sound. “My bite is really strong lately.”

His face is deadpan. “Funny. Don’t ever joke about my dick in your mouth and teeth.”

I grab my jacket and head toward the door. Mark catches up and cages me in. “Dixon, if you value your life, you’ll step back.”

His hand snakes around my stomach. A current rushes through me from his touch. Mark may drive me crazy, but he’s my kind of crazy.

“Marry me?”

I turn and face him. “Seriously?” I won’t lie, I think about it a lot. Also doesn’t help that he brings it up all the time. When we wake up, brush our teeth, go to bed—I swear, he even mumbles it in his sleep. If I marry him, I want the fairy tale—to some extent.

I want him to ask my brother and mother for permission and the grand proposal. I want the ring and the knee, too. Considering all we’ve been through, I think we both deserve a little bit of special.

“Nah, that was just a practice run.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Again with the giant cock talk. I think you miss him.” He wags his brows like a villain.

My hand goes down, and I grab him in my hand. “What were you saying?”

“That I love you and you look beautiful, dear.”

I release his balls. “That’s what I thought you said.”

He laughs, kisses me, and then we head off to my mother’s. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be late for dinner.

Tomorrow I meet with my boss, Tom, for my final debrief. Mark and I spoke a lot over the last week about our plans. He promised Jackson that once they settled the issues with Cole Security that he’d become part owner. I understand he wants to keep his word. He never once mentioned my job, and not because I think he wants to push me either way, but because he knows it has to be my choice.

Dominic and I spoke for about three hours yesterday. He and I sat with my mom and explained what we could. At the end of our story, she leaned back and smiled. I couldn’t understand it. I thought maybe she’d finally cracked, but she said it was the feeling of peace. For her, knowing my father died was hard enough, but knowing he had unfinished business was unsettling. She’s always been a woman of faith, and she believed my father was home now.

That word stuck with me, though. Home.

“You’re awfully quiet? Plotting your revenge?” Mark taunts on our way over.