I felt like I was walking on a tightrope. Balancing between the need to put on a good face and the need to see Vincent again. He was like a drug. I craved him with every bit of my will. Even so, I had to behave as nonchalantly as possible while I packed up to go home. At least it wasn’t too far away.

“I still can’t believe it.” Christian waited for me in one of the chairs by the fire.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s shocking.” I rolled my eyes behind his back.

Anybody who listened to him would think Bradford was his father. He wasn’t as thunderstruck when Pierce died.

“I thought he would… I don’t know…”

“You thought he would fight back somehow, or find some way to get out of it?” I zipped up my bag, glancing at him as I did.

“Yeah. I guess so. I don’t know.”

I sighed, sitting. “Yes. So did I. I guess he surprised us all, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t even try to fight back,” he whispered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense. He knew it was the right thing to do, so he did it. He finally did the right thing. And now, we need to do the right thing and go home and continue growing our branch. Remember?”

He nodded, still a little absentminded.

I was close to going insane by then, between dealing with him and the physical ache I felt when I thought about Vincent. I couldn’t let him go without saying goodbye again. And it would be goodbye. I was sure of it.

I patted the suitcase on the bed, then pointed to his. “Can you please take these down to the car? I’ll meet you out there in a little bit—I want to go back through and be sure I didn’t leave anything.”

“All right.” He moved mechanically, the way I had when I was getting dressed.

I wondered what it would take to break him out of his fog. Time, probably. A little time and the benefit of hindsight. Once someone else took control of the clan, somebody with a decent head on their shoulders—one could hope, anyway—he would see how different things could be and how wrong Bradford was. It was one thing to know in one’s heart that something was wrong because they’d been taught that way, but another to see it for themselves. He’d see how much better it could be.

I hoped.

As I walked through the room, checking bedside tables and every crevice of the marble bathroom just in case I’d left something behind, I knew I was deliberately dragging my feet.

I didn’t want to leave. Once I left, it would all be over. Vincent might already be on his way to the airport, but so long as I was still at headquarters our few precious minutes together were real. They happened. They weren’t a distant memory.

I considered looking for him, as he had for me, but there were too many people walking up and down the halls as they prepared to leave. I didn’t need any questions.

Why did it even matter? Who cared which side we were on? Why were there sides in the first place?

Our fathers had convinced us we had to go against each other, that we could never work together. We hadn’t even tried in hundreds of years. Everything we lived by was a remnant of the way things used to be.

And if I let some stupid, brainless know-nothing lead the clan in Bradford’s place, all those old fears and hatreds would carry over to the next generation. On and on it would go. It would never end.

My son would never know real peace. My grandchildren would live for years always wondering if they could or should trust those no-good Everglades.

I had loved Vincent all my life, both before and after he changed sides. He was the same person. He had proven it to me in the forest—saving my life, kissing me like his life depended on it.

And he went to see Bradford before the execution, I was sure of it. When I saw him walking out behind his brother, everything was clear. And I only loved him more.

I had to see him, or at least try. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t know whether he was still present when I left.

I threw the door open and took off down the hall, not caring who saw me or what they thought.

There was a grand staircase at the end of the hall, around the corner. I turned the corner in hopes of running down to the main entrance to check on whether he’d left—and ran smack in to him.

“Vincent?” I took him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him to me. He wrapped his arms tight around my waist and bent his head to kiss me.

“I couldn’t leave without seeing you,” he whispered as I kissed his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

I didn’t care if anyone saw. Let them all see. It didn’t matter because I had him in my arms one more time and I wouldn’t let go until I absolutely had to. I would have to spend the rest of my life living off these moments.

“I know, I know,” I whispered, trembling. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me, but I had to find you. Just one more time.”

“One more time?” he asked, pulling back a little. “No. Not one more time.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m going to marry you, if you’ll marry me.”

My heart soared and my thoughts jumped around in a million directions. Joy flooded every inch of me, head to toe and everything in between. He wanted to marry me. Still.

“You mean that?” I whispered as my eyes filled with tears.

“You know me well enough to know I mean what I say.” He smiled and took my face in his hands. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I was wrong to leave you behind back then—I thought I was being noble, but I wasn’t. I should’ve let you make up your mind. So I’m telling you now: I want to marry you, and I want to find some way for us to be happy together. But it’s up to you.”

Up to me.

It wouldn’t be easy—in fact, it would be hard as hell. We would face opposition at every turn. Anybody who could stand against us would.

But we would be together. My heart might finally feel whole for the first time since he left.

“Yes. Of course, yes. I love you. I want to marry you.”

He swept me up in his arms as I wept with joy. I never thought it would happen. I was so sure our time was over, that we would never be together again. Love and happiness were for some, but not for me. I’d had my chance and it had passed me by. I was wrong.

When he put me down, I looked up at him. If it was possible for us to be together again—we would find a way to make it work, I knew we would—maybe anything was possible.

“I want my clan,” I whispered as my heart raced and my breath came in shaky gasps.

“What?”

“I want it. I want to take Bradford’s place. It’s the only way any of us could ever move forward.”

He smiled. “You think they’ll accept you?”

“I know they will. They have to. I’ll convince them—how, I don’t know. But if I have you…?” I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed. “I’m already halfway there.”

“I love you so much.”

We stood there, wrapped up in each other, for what felt like a precious eternity. I would’ve gladly never left that spot again. Were it only that simple.

“What the hell is this?”

My eyes snapped open at the sound of the harsh, disbelieving voice behind Vincent. A voice I knew very well.

“Christian.” I pulled myself from Vincent’s arms and took a step away from him. “Let me explain.”

“Stop. You don’t have to explain anything.” He glared at Vincent. “So now I get it. I get why she didn’t care if Bradford got his head chopped off. She never got over you.”

“Watch your mouth,” I warned. “I’m still your mother. You don’t speak to or about me that way.”

“How could you do this?” he hissed. “This is… this is an abomination.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, taking a step toward him with my hands outstretched. “Please. Please, let me tell you what’s going on. I know there’s a way we can understand each other.”

He moved back, and I barely managed to silence a soft moan of disappointment.

“Christian, please. The way you feel about this—it’s all based in the past, there’s nothing real about it—”

“Don’t tell me about what I feel,” he warned in a deadly voice.

“Christian,” Vincent began, taking my side.

“Don’t speak to me, traitor.” My son spat on the floor at Vincent’s feet. “That’s what I think of you.”

“Please, don’t do this,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Good luck when the rest of the clan finds out about this.” He turned and jogged down the stairs.

I called his name, begging him to come back.

He acted like he didn’t hear me.

I lunged forward, prepared to follow, but Vincent stopped me.

“Let him get over his anger,” he suggested. “It’ll be all right. If you go after him and cause a scene, that will only make it worse.”

I knew he was right, but that didn’t make me feel much better.

In fact, I felt like somebody had just slipped a red-hot poker between my ribs and pierced my heart.