The soft light of dawn broke through the windows in Dillon’s kitchen, and he found himself grateful that he’d lived to see it.

Kat’s father had instructed them to go to Dillon’s. The doctor Tanaka had sent to tend to Dillon and Kiki had come and gone, leaving the four sitting in silence. There had been no words. The night had been a long pause, a warp of time that had left none of them with any footing. They had been too shocked and stunned to do anything but sit, holding each other, their minds turned inward.

Dillon’s only comfort had been Kat in his arms, her head tucked under his chin.

She was alive and safe.

They all were.

It was a miracle or a nightmare; he couldn’t be sure which. He’d killed a man, and that had saved them.

Nothing in Dillon’s life had ever come easy, and the sweetness of survival was bruised, discolored by the death of another.

Not that there had been much of a choice.

Dillon glanced into the living room where Kiki lay on the couch, wrapped in a blanket in Owen’s lap. Owen’s bloodshot eyes were trained on his hand as he stroked her black hair.

Kat walked down the stairs, running her fingers through her hair, looking exhausted. Her eyes caught his, and she came into the kitchen to sit next to him at the bar.

They said nothing for a moment.

She turned her eyes on him, green and heavy and understanding. “I’m sorry.”

He opened his hands, looking over his palms, his weapons. “I’ve never killed anyone.” The words were hollow, distant.

“I haven’t either,” she said softly, “but I’ve come close.”

“So have I.” Jimmy’s face slipped into his mind and away again. “He was going to kill you.”

“Yes, he was.”

Neither of them had anything to say, but everything seemed to pass between them. I’m sorry. I need you. Forgive me.

“That night when I saw you last, I need … I want to tell you …”

She turned her face to his with eyes so sad, so hurt, but she said nothing.

“There’s nothing I can do to make that right, make that better. There’s nothing I can say that will undo what I did. But I want you to know everything. Because there’s no excuse, but there are reasons.”

She nodded.

“I told you my father beat me, but I didn’t tell you why.” Dillon took a breath that singed his lungs, hating the things he would say but saying them all the same. “Owen wasn’t his.”

Kat reached for his hand, her long fingers soft and comforting.

“When Jimmy drank, Jimmy would snap. And when Jimmy snapped, bad things would happen. I don’t blame my mother for finding comfort somewhere else. I only hope Owen’s father loved her.” He swallowed hard, his eyes on her hand in his, his thumb shifting against her index finger. “Instead of leaving my mother, he held her captive. He beat her often and with little warning. And one night, he found her walking to the subway after work and beat her to death.”

A gasp, just a small intake of breath from his side, but he couldn’t look at her.

“Once she was gone, there was no one to protect us. To protect Owen. No one but me. Owen was the manifestation of Jimmy’s failure, and Jimmy wanted to take payment in blood. And I knew it. So I learned two very important things — how to push Jimmy’s buttons and how to fight back. When he wanted to fight, I was right there to push him, and he’d wear himself out on me and leave Owen alone. For the most part. The last time he touched Owen, I almost beat him to death. We haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Dillon looked into her wide green eyes.

“I’m not afraid of much of anything, besides myself. I am my father’s son. When I break, there’s no reasoning. When the beast takes over, I disappear. I’ve never been willing to risk a relationship because I will not live my father’s life. I will not hurt the ones I love, but I can’t be trusted. So I loved no one. It seemed easier that way. Until I met you.”

He took her hand and turned it over, held it, pressed his thumb into her palm.

“I wanted to try, believed I was strong enough. And if I wasn’t strong enough, you would be strong enough for both of us. But that night …” He paused, chest aching. “It was the realization of all my fears, the justification of my loneliness. It was my nightmare. I’ll never forgive myself for that, not as long as I’m breathing. And if it had ended at that, I would have walked away. I would have walked straight into hell itself. But it didn’t. Because there was hope. When you touched me, when you said my name, you brought me back. The only other person who can stop me when I’m that far gone is Owen. But you can too. You … you brought me back.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he wasn’t ready to be rejected, not until he was finished. So he stopped her, continuing.

“Kat, you are a gift, a gift I never believed the universe would grant me. From the very first moment I saw you, I knew you would change me, and I was right. I knew you were all I feared and everything I could wish for, and you are. When I broke your trust, I broke my own heart.” He took a breath, a shaky breath, and met her eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll ask for it all the same. All I can offer is a promise. I will never stop trying to earn your faith. You have shown me what can be, and if you will give me a chance I know I’m not worthy of, I will prove to you that I can be the man you deserve. I can swear to you that I will never give up my hope in us. And I will cherish you as long as you’ll have me, if you’ll have me.”

She slid off the stool, and when he turned to face her, she moved between his knees.

“I believe you, and I believe in you. I trust you, and I trust in you. The minute you walked away from me, my heart broke. I didn’t think I could be with you. After what happened…” She paused, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after that night. I thought I had to walk away. But I never wanted to. And then you … Dillon, you saved us. You ran into that room with single-minded focus and one objective — to protect us. And you did.”

She cupped his jaw, tears sparkling in her eyes as she searched his.

“I know the kind of men who hurts women, and you are not one of them. I don’t know what happened that night, in that moment, any more than you do, but I know that wasn’t you. When I looked into your eyes, I knew it wasn’t you. And I know I can bring you back. It happened again last night. It’s happened with Owen. And I know why.”

His brows quirked, and she smiled.

“It’s because you wouldn’t hurt someone you love because your father hurt those he wasn’t supposed to. You are not your father. You’re the man who saved us.”

He closed his eyes, lowering his chin as if in prayer. “Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she whispered.

His eyes opened, his hands finding her cheeks. And he when he stood, he pulled her into him, tilting her face up to his, lowering his lips to hers.

The promise was spoken in the whisper of their breath, the sweetness of their lips, through their fingertips on skin so soft. And she leaned into him, and he held on to her, their lives slipping together with a click they felt deep in their hearts.

“Katsumi.”

Kat broke the kiss so quickly, it left him breathless.

She whipped her head to the sound, and Dillon looked over and froze.

“Papa,” she breathed and rushed into his arms.

Dillon realized he hadn’t locked the door after the yakuza had come and gone. But he didn’t have much time to consider it.

Tanaka Katsu was tall, made of stone, especially his eyes that bore into Dillon with enough weight to make him stand, as if being closer to his level would relieve the pressure of his gaze. The yakuza boss looked shockingly out of place standing in Dillon’s kitchen, wearing a black suit and a deadly look on his face at nearly six in the morning.

Kiki unwound herself from Owen and ran to him, burying her face in his chest.

Only then did he break his stare, and he did it with the closing of his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his daughters, holding them so hard, so close, his fingertips were white.

After a moment, he stepped back, his face completely changed. It was gentle and worried as he peered into Kiki’s eyes.

“Are you all right, Keiko? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, though her chin quivered.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and tucked her into his chest again. “And you, Katsumi?” He cupped her face with his free hand, searching her face.

“I’m all right, Papa.”

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “I think it is time you told me why you came here.”

Kat took a breath and lifted her chin, telling him everything — from Eric beating Kiki in Vegas and up to that moment.

The tight line of his lips pulled flatter as he listened, pausing when she finished.

“You should have told me.” His words were laden with disappointment, and Kat turned her eyes to the ground.

Kiki spoke up. “Papa, Kat would have killed him in Vegas if I hadn’t stopped her. I didn’t believe he would follow us. I thought we would be safe here. I … I thought I had time.” She took a breath. “I was supposed to tell you, Papa. I was going to. But I waited too long. She was only honoring my wishes; the blame is mine.”

“I am not happy you kept this from me. You should never have asked this of your sister — you put yourself and Katsumi in danger.”

“I know,” Kiki said, her eyes down too.”

His face softened as he turned to Kat, lifting her chin. “You did well to protect her. And you kept your word to your sister. I am proud. But please, always come to me. I could not bear it if …” He trailed off, smoothing her hair, emotion breaking both of them. He drew her into a hug, rocking her, whispering, “Shh, daijoubu. Daijoubu.”

It was a long moment before they separated, and Katsu turned his attention on Dillon.

“You saved them.”

Dillon bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

Katsu stepped toward Dillon, his eyes assessing, lingering on Dillon’s tattoo. “You are the fighter I have heard so much about.”

Dillon nodded.

Katsu drew up to his full height, shoulders square, meeting Dillon’s eyes. “What you have given me cannot be repaid, not in a thousand lifetimes. Domo arigato gozaimashita.” And then he bowed more deeply than his status required.

Dillon bowed in return, solemnly, reverently.

The alarm went off in the theater room, but there was no celebration, no cheers or clapping or congratulations. The room was still and quiet.

Dita sat in the front row, feeling small, looking small, swallowed up by an oversize sweater, with Perry on one side and Heff on the other.

Ares leaned against the wall, lingering in the shadows at the back of the room. He uncrossed his ankles and pushed off the wall as the alarm went off — tiny mechanical birds flitted around her likeness, the statue modeled after Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, the water in the pool at her feet glowing green — but he paid it no mind as he walked down the steps and to the front row, stopping in front of her.

He watched her for a moment, a long, charged moment, before opening his big hand, revealing his token. He dropped it in her lap, pausing for only a breath longer before leaving the room without saying a word.

A tear slipped down her cheek, her fingers closing over the orb full of deep red blood, pulsing in her hand like a heartbeat.

The room was heavy with the awkward silence, and the gods began to disperse with a murmuring of voices. Perry wrapped an arm around Dita, who laid her head on her friend’s shoulder.

“Well,” Perry said lightly, “we have two whole weeks before your next competition. I say we go back to Greece before you compete with Artemis. You’re looking pale. And skinny.”

Dita chuckled, the sound muffled through her stuffy nose. “All right. But I need to tell Adonis the truth. Will you make sure he’s there?”

Perry pulled her closer and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I will.”

Katsu stayed for a while, sitting with his daughters, talking with them, drying their tears. But the last time the girls yawned, he kissed their heads and bid them to sleep. Dillon and Owen were offered bows and eyes that approved and consented, leaving his daughters in their care.

It was an honor Dillon would work to keep.

Owen knelt before Kiki, cupping her cheek. “Do you think you can sleep?”

She nodded and took his hand, and he pulled her close, pressing his cheek to her hair as they made their way to his bedroom and closed the door.

Kat stood and moved to Dillon, threading her fingers through his, her eyes inviting and certain, so sure.

All his life, he’d been looking for someone to give his heart to, someone to care for him, never believing he would find one strong enough. But she was strong enough. Strong enough to face him, to walk up to the beast without fear, to place her hand on his smooth coat and rake her hands through the fur.

She didn’t need him in chains to be safe. Because her love alone could tame the wild beast.

He followed her to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The dark curtains were drawn, the room dim, safe, the world outside far away. Kat stepped away from him, stopping in the middle of the room. She turned to him, her face and eyes and heart opened up. And he was overcome, overwhelmed by the force of her, strong and unwavering, standing there before him.

He wanted to move, wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her and hold her and tell her he’d keep her safe. But she wanted him to stay where he was; he knew by the way she held herself, facing him so plainly, the set of her shoulders and the honesty in her eyes.

And so he did.

She crossed her arms and hooked her fingers in the hem of her shirt, pulling it off, black hair tumbling over her naked shoulders. Her pants were next, her eyes on his as she pushed them down her thighs and stepped out of them. Then, her bra, sliding down her long arms to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. Her panties were last, slipping down her legs with a whisper.

She stood before him, still and silent, an offering, an invitation. Only then did he move to her, not stopping until he could feel her breath on his lips and her hand over his heart. He covered it with his own, hooking his fingers in hers, holding her face with the other.

And with a tip of his head, he kissed her, telling her all of his wishes, all of his promises, giving her all of his heart.

She pulled away, eyes down, watching her hands as she undressed him tenderly until he was naked as she. When she lifted her eyes once more, they met his, and in what felt like a single motion, she wound her arms around his neck, pressing the length of her body against his, stretching to meet his open mouth with her own.

He was lost in her hot mouth, lost in the softness of her skin, lost in the feel of her body. There was fire in her touch, fire in her heart, and it ignited his, lighting him up from the inside.

She broke the kiss and took his hand, turning for his shower. The night had been long and hard, his muscles aching and skin salty, his mind spotted with things he would never forget, things he’d wash away with the stream of hot water and the comfort of her arms.

Water ran in rivulets down their bodies, through her hair, against their lips as he kissed her, her flesh slick under his hands. She reached for the soap, lathering it in her hands, and then she touched him.

She touched him with hands intent on learning every inch. They cupped his jaw, skated down his neck, over his shoulders, across his chest, down his rippling abs with tender, deliberate care, taking her time. She washed his sins away, wiped his soul clean with her lips and hands and forgiveness.

His offered reverence and devotion, an invocation of fingertips and whispering sighs. Fingertips traced the length of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, the peak of her nipple and down, down the gentle slopes of her stomach to the hot center of her.

He cupped her heat, slipping his finger into her warmth as his mouth opened wider, his tongue searching deeper. His hand flexed, and her core flexed in answer, winding her arms wound around his neck and leaning back into the cold tile wall.

Her hips bucked against his hand, her hands on a path for his length until her silken fingers wrapped around him, stroked him, thumb in the cleft of his crown.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers, their lips millimeters apart, water dripping from him to her and down her body in streams.

And he didn’t want to wait.

Neither did she.

He released her as she released him, his hands slipping around her waist, bringing their bodies flush, and she hooked her legs around his hips, pressing herself against him. There was no space, no air, as he carried her to bed and laid her down, hovered over her, memorizing the feeling of her body under his, the sight of her hair spread around her, the tiny droplets of water on her cheeks, her lashes long and wet, her eyes so deep. And he was drowning, drowning in the feeling of her, drowning in her.

He kissed her and never wanted to come up for air again. He’d drown happily, sink beneath the surface and hope he never hit the bottom.

He broke the kiss only to reach for his nightstand for a condom, and then he was kissing her again, as deeply as he could, his fingers wound in her hair, their wet bodies skimming against each other. He ripped the package open behind her head, never letting her go, sheathing himself.

Kat shifted, guiding him to his back with her palm against his chest, straddling his hips. His hands rested on her thighs, his eyes on her body, down to her hand as she gripped his base, to the center of her as she lowered her hips, pressing his crown to the heat of her. And with a sigh, he disappeared inside of her.

Their bodies met wholly, connected completely.

She braced herself with her hands on his chest and rocked her hips, head turned to the side, eyes closed, strands of wet hair stuck to her face. She rode him gently at first, breasts caged between her arms, lip pinned between her teeth. Faster she moved, his hands spurring her from where they gripped her hips. Harder she pressed, grinding, seeking.

When she opened her eyes, they were on fire.

He sat as she bent, their lips meeting, his arms finding their way around her body that rolled on and on in a never-ending wave. And when he broke away, when he looked into her eyes and spoke her name, she came to him, and he came to her, and with their bodies and with their breath, the chains fell away, and they were finally free.

It was dusk when Dillon woke, his room bathed in oranges and reds of fire and endings. But when he reached for her, she was gone.

He panicked, scanning the room, only breathing once he saw her things were still there, exhaling as he slipped out of bed, pulling on gray sweatpants, padding through the house to find her.

Kiki and Owen were in the living room, lying on the couch, watching television, Owen behind her with his head propped on his hand. Kiki looked like a doll, fast asleep in front of him.

Dillon smiled, and Owen mirrored him and pointed out.

He climbed the stairs and stepped onto the patio, slowing to a stop when he found her.

Kat leaned on the rail with her back to him, wearing his sweatshirt with the hood flipped up, her long legs naked. The darkness of her body stood solid and strong and real against the silhouette of the bridge and the city, the sky stretching over them, blazing with his heart.

He bid his feet to move, and they obeyed, walking him over to rest his hands on the rail on either side of her body.

She nestled into him, smiling.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “For a second, I thought you’d left me again.”

Kat turned in his arms and raised her gaze to his with eyes full of adoration and hope. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when she kissed him, he knew it was true.