Page 103 of Stay Little Fighter

“Kovu has rubbed off on her a lot,” I admit.

“The description she gave of how she would dismember me if I hurt you will live in my nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“Better not hurt me then, huh?”

He moves in front of me and cups my cheek in his hand, forcing me to look up into his intense eyes. “Never,” he promises. “Never again.”

“Time to move out. Apparently it’s a nice night in Miami to blow shit up.” Kingston gives me one final squeeze before Ryker takes my hand and tugs me toward a waiting SUV.

I really can’t wait to get home and start our life together.

I have a feeling it’s going to be everything I ever dreamed of.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

DAMON

NOW

There was a time when all I wanted was the kingdom inside these four walls.

I would kill anyone that got in my way of the legacy that awaited me.

But walking through the halls of the compound now, all I feel is relief that this is the end of this place.

The ghosts and bad memories are littered through every room I walk into, searching for anything sentimental that we might want to keep while Ryker waits with Chloe in the car.

We were only able to get him to agree to sit this part out because we promised he could play with the explosives when it came time to blow it up.

The guards Dad left behind were easy to take out, and we barely broke a sweat in the process, leaving us with free rein of the compound to get what we have to do.

Chloe tried to come in with us, wanting to support Ronan and me, but nothing good could come from her coming inside, and we quickly convinced her that staying in the car was the best call.

Stepping into my mother’s library, my heart aches for the woman who never got to see her sons break free of our father’s chains.

I’d like to think she’s looking down on us, proud that we’re ridding the world of everything he loved.

Dropping the box I’m carrying onto the table in the corner, I start pulling the books she read to us as children and the ones she and Chloe used to read together.

It’s more than I would like to take from the house, but it feels disrespectful to her to not keep these things.

I gather the photo frames from the wall and the knickknacks from her travels, and then I step into the hallway and almost run straight into Kingston.

He’s been in Dad’s office grabbing documents and packing up the computers and hard drives just in case we ever need them as leverage, but he looks more haunted than I can ever remember seeing him.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, glancing down at the box where a photo of him and Mom rests. He reaches for it, brushing his fingers over the glass gently. “If these walls could talk…”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.”

“The hardest part of the funeral was not being able to be there for you and your brother. Standing back, watching as you both struggled to remain stoic, it was torture. But mostly I regret leaving her here with him. I allowed her to suffer by disappearing.”

I shake my head. “You did what you had to do, and she was never mad at you. She never blamed you, even when everyone around her tried to convince her that the accident was your fault. You were her best friend until the day she died.”

Emotion creeps through my chest, and for once I don’t try to force it down.

I spent my whole life repressing my feelings, never allowing myself to process the things I felt, but I don’t have to do that anymore.