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“You’ve had a lifetime’s worth of meaningless proposals.” Waiting on his next words, I hold my breath. “This isn’t that. But take it as a promise of my devotion.” He slides it onto my finger, and I stare at the simple metal. It’s so Sasha. It’s perfect.

I grab his face and brush my lips over his, inhaling his fogged breath. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Our story is not pretty, but neither is life. I still have enemies, bigger and badder ones than Enrique Bianchi.

I know there will be more battles to come, but I’m not alone. I have my monster. Always.