Chapter 103 AFTER

Chapter 103 AFTER

Ava's POV

I woke slowly, the weight of the ring on my finger catching the morning light before anything else. Simple gold, warm from my skin, it felt like it had always belonged there. I stared at it, memory hazy, and turned my head.

Dominic was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with that quiet intensity that still made my stomach flutter. He said nothing, just let me piece it together.

“When did you put this on my finger?” I whispered.

“While you were asleep.” His voice was low, rough with the remnants of sleep and something deeper.

“You put a ring on my sleeping finger,” I said, half-laughing, half-disbelieving.

“You said yes in the car,” he reminded me. “I wanted it on before morning.”

I looked from the ring to him. “You’ve had this for three months.”

“Yes.”

“You carried it through London, the safe houses, Kade, Roan… all of it.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him. He looked back at me, completely calm, completely sure. Emotion swelled so fast I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both, a short, breathless sound. Dominic pulled me into his chest instantly, arms wrapping around me like he’d never let go. I pressed my face into his skin, breathing him in, and felt the bond between us settle—warm, permanent, and entirely ours.

“You’re ridiculous,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yes,” he agreed, the word vibrating against my cheek.

The morning was loud in the best way. My mother was at the stove, the smell of real breakfast filling the apartment. Maya lounged on the sofa, legs tucked under her, chatting with Nadia who’d come up early. Adrian stood at the counter with coffee, looking rested for the first time in weeks, while Elias read something on his phone by the window.

I padded out in nothing but Dominic’s shirt, the hem brushing my thighs. Every head turned. Then every gaze dropped to my hand.

Maya’s “OH” was loud enough to rattle the windows.

My mother set her spatula down, crossed the kitchen, and took my face in both hands. She looked at me for a long moment, eyes shining, then pulled me into a fierce hug. I clung to her, solid and warm and alive, the memory of hospital rooms and counted breaths feeling impossibly far away.

“Tell me everything,” Maya demanded, already launching off the sofa.

“In the car,” I said. “Adrian was there.”

All eyes swung to him. He sipped his coffee. “I turned the radio up.”

“You heard everything,” I accused.

“I heard nothing,” he replied smoothly.

Nadia smiled from the sofa. I caught her eye and we toasted with invisible mugs. She laughed.

Dominic emerged then, in a clean shirt, and the room did its usual subtle recalibration around him. He went straight for the coffee. My mother handed him a plate without a word. He accepted it and sat at the table like it was the most natural thing in the world, this ancient, lethal man eating scrambled eggs while my best friend grilled me about my engagement. The surreal domesticity of it made my chest ache with happiness.

Later, after breakfast, I found Adrian at the window with his second coffee. I joined him, both of us looking out over New York.

“Zara,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Chicago.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

He glanced at me, voice careful but open. “And something I’m figuring out.”

“She’s good for you,” I told him. “Sharp. Honest. Doesn’t fill silence. Basically perfect.”

Adrian looked at me, amused. “Are you giving me relationship advice right now?”

“I’m engaged,” I said, wiggling my ring finger. “I can do what I want.”

He almost smiled. We nudged shoulders, then stood in the comfortable quiet of two people who had survived hell together.

Dominic appeared in the doorway. Our eyes met. He held out his hand.

I crossed to him without hesitation. He laced our fingers and pulled me toward the bedroom. Maya’s voice trailed after us: “We can hear you, just so you know!”

I didn’t even glance back.

The door clicked shut. Dominic turned me into his arms and kissed me., really slow, deep, savoring. His hands slid under the hem of his shirt, palms hot against my bare waist, then higher, cupping my breasts. I gasped into his mouth as his thumbs brushed my nipples, already tightening.

“It’s nine in the morning,” I breathed.

“I know.” He walked me backward until my knees hit the bed.

“My mother is literally in the kitchen…”

“I know.” His voice was dark velvet. He laid me down and covered me with his body, eyes roaming my face before he smiled and i reached up and traced his jaw, heart squeezing.

“What?” I whispered.

“Nothing. Just this.”

He kissed me again, deeper, hungrier. His mouth trailed down my throat, teeth grazing my pulse point, then lower. He pushed the shirt up and off, tossing it aside. Cool air met my skin for only a second before his mouth was on me—hot, wet, perfect. He sucked one nipple into his mouth while his hand worked the other, rolling and pinching until I was arching off the bed, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Dominic…” His name came out as a moan.

He took his time, no urgency, no shadows between us. Just us. His hands mapped every inch of me like he was memorizing this new reality. When he reached my thighs, he spread them slowly, reverently, and settled between them. His breath ghosted over my core before his tongue dragged through my folds, slow and deliberate.

I cried out, hips jerking. He gripped my thighs, holding me open as he licked and sucked, focusing on my clit with devastating precision. Two thick fingers slid inside me, curling just right, stroking that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. He didn’t stop until I was trembling, thighs shaking around his head, coming hard on his tongue with his name broken on my lips.

Only then did he rise, shedding his clothes. His cock was heavy and flushed, already leaking at the tip. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his thick length, stroking slowly. He groaned, low and rough, eyes locked on mine.

He braced over me and pushed in—inch by slow, stretching inch—until he was buried to the hilt. We both stilled, breathing each other in. The ring on my finger caught the light between us.

Then he started to move.

Deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive place inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as pleasure built again, hotter and sharper. His pace quickened, hips snapping, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. He dropped his forehead to mine, one hand braced beside my head, the other sliding between us to circle my clit.

“Come for me again,” he growled against my mouth. “Let me feel you.”

I shattered around him, clenching tight, crying out into his kiss. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, pulsing inside me as he came.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard. He pressed soft kisses to my hair, my temple, my lips. His thumb stroked over the ring on my finger where our hands rested on the pillow. Outside, New York kept moving. Inside, everything was exactly right.

I thought of the desperate girl in Club Obsidian, drowning in hospital bills, and the man who walked in and saw only her. This was what “after” looked like.

Then Maya knocked. “Your mother wants to know if you want more eggs! Also she says congratulations! And I’m telling you right now—I expect to be maid of honor!”

I laughed, breathless. Dominic made a low, amused sound against my hair that might have been a laugh too.

“Yes to the eggs,” I called back, voice husky. “And yes to maid of honor!”

“Excellent!” Maya’s footsteps retreated.

I closed my eyes, safe and sated in Dominic’s arms, the morning warm and golden and entirely ours.