Page 108 of Yours

Marco chuckled. “Don’t get used to it, O’Malley. This isn’t a peace treaty. It’s a temporary understanding.”

“Call it whatever you want,” I said, my gaze never leaving his. “But if you come after what’s mine again, you won’t walk away next time.”

“Noted,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He turned on his heel, his men falling in step behind him as he left the room without another word.

Victor exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the door Marco had disappeared through. I turned, meeting Kiera’s gaze.

“Yeah. It could’ve,” I murmured.

And it would have if it hadn’t been for my girl.

CHAPTER 39

Afew weeks later

Kiera

The days after the meeting with Marco and the mayor passed in a strange, tense haze.

The city seemed quieter somehow, as though it was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. But as the hours turned into days, it became clear that the storm had passed—or at least, shifted.

The first thing that happened was Ronan moved Leena to a safehouse.

Ronan didn’t give Leena a choice about the move, not that she seemed inclined to argue. The safehouse he set her up in was miles above the apartment the two of us had shared—spacious, modern, with every comfort imaginable. It had sweeping views of the Hudson, state-of-the-art security, and even a private gym.

For all her independence, Leena didn’t put up much of a fight, though I could tell it wasn’t because she agreed with being moved. It was because she knew Ronan wouldn’t budge, and she had bigger battles to pick. Leena adjusted well enough to her new home, though I could tell she missed the simplicity of our old life, back when things felt more manageable.

As for me, I’d spent those weeks wrestling with my own role in all of this. I was still figuring out how to navigate Ronan’s world, still trying to reconcile the version of myself that craved stability with the one that wanted to be part of his life, no matter how dangerous it got.

Marco Benedetti, for all his bluster and threats, had backed down. The usual murmurs of violence and turf disputes in the city quieted, replaced by the muted hum of grudging coexistence.

The Ivanovich family, meanwhile, was a shadow of its former self. Ronan’s decisive action—taking out a significant number of their forces—had left them reeling. Word on the street was that they’d withdrawn to lick their wounds, their influence in the city reduced to a faint whisper of what it once was.

But even in the quiet that followed, the loss of Finn hung over all of us. The funeral had been a somber affair. Ronan had stood stoic throughout the service, his expression unreadable as Finn’s family wept beside the casket.

But afterward, he’d made sure they would never want for anything ever again. He’d set up trust funds for Finn’s kids, paid off their mortgage, and promised his widow that she’d have whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. It was a quiet gesture, one that spoke volumes about the man Ronanwas, the weight he carried as the head of the family, and the responsibility he felt for those who followed him.

Through it all, Ronan and I found moments of quiet together, spaces where the storm faded, and we could just be. It wasn’t long before we had to address the inevitable: telling Leena about us.

She’d been predictably shocked, her wide eyes darting between the two of us as we sat her down in the penthouse.

“You’re kidding, right?” she’d said in disbelief.

“No,” Ronan replied simply, his hand resting lightly on mine. “We’re serious, Leena. And we wanted you to hear it from us.”

She’d huffed, crossing her arms as her gaze settled on me. “You know how he is, right? Stubborn, overprotective, and a complete control freak.”

I’d smiled faintly, squeezing Ronan’s hand. “Yeah, I noticed.”

After a long pause, Leena let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging as she leaned back in her chair.

“Fine,” she muttered grudgingly. “But if you hurt her, Ronan?—”

“I won’t,” Ronan said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

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