This kiss was sweet and soft, but it crippled me in ways no other kiss had before.

This was her, my perfect curse-breaking Jinx, letting me into deeper parts of her heart.

This wasn’t about desire or bodily gratification but the start of our forever.

It was the best fucking kiss of my life.

* * * * *

Thirteen days since I’d woken and each day, I was stronger.

I no longer passed out at inconvenient times. My body was back under control, and each session of physiotherapy meant my muscles rebuilt and strength returned.

After a gruelling session of standing and bearing weight on legs that’d taken their fair share of beatings, I sat at a temporary desk by the deck overlooking Nirvana. Eleanor had gone to visit Jess and taken the two parrots with her, my doctors were enjoying the afternoon off and planning their return to Geneva, Cal was busy overseeing the faulty sensors and snares ringing my shores, and I was alone to slip back into my role as CEO of Sinclair and Sinclair Group.

My time was no longer split between legal and illegal enterprises. I didn’t have emails requesting week-long stays or in-depth details of depraved fantasies to code. No new goddesses to request or daily orders of their wants and needs to complete. It felt odd not juggling two very different companies. To no longer see the dark web page where my island promised deviant desires for hire.

Cal had removed the details of my islands, and Eleanor had taken care of feed requirements and vet arrivals for the rescues that I hadn’t had the tolerance to visit yet.

All I had was jargon heavy emails, encyclopaedia-sized PDFs, and regular briefings with Peter Beck.

As the sun set on the thirteenth day since I’d been reincarnated from a heartless procurer into a man striving to be the best husband he could be, an email from an encrypted address arrived.

At first, I thought it might be from the traffickers who’d bounced my last request and then vanished. However, the address was wrong.

And the contents? Well, it was a threat, pure and fucking simple.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Bonjour

To Mr. Sullivan Sinclair,

You have recently come to my attention.

I will be frank so you are not confused by the following.

Due to your dealings with a certain trafficking outfit, you are now next on my list. That company has recently been shut down, and its staff are enjoying a never-ending retirement, if you catch my meaning.

If you don’t, allow me to elaborate.

They are dead.

The men you used to source, select, and ship women to your islands are now in pieces. Unfortunately for you, and their other clients, they kept comprehensive records on girls acquired, money received, and locations they were sent.

You, Mr. Sinclair, are one of the worst.

You have purchased thirteen women with a value of over four million dollars.

Is that what a life is worth to you? If it is, you must allow me the decency of teaching you that there are four million ways a man can die.

You are going to die.

I have the coordinates for your islands.

I am coming.

Cordialement,

Q

Q?

Who the fuck was Q?

What sort of cunt emailed such things with such high and mighty bullshit?

Fucking bastard.

I’d kill him.

Adrenaline flooded my veins as I grabbed my phone to call Cal and have him watch the horizon for more boats bringing war. My jaw clenched as I swiped on the device, my mind racing with battle enforcements and yet another fight that I had no energy to endure.

Goddammit, we’d just finished a nightmare. The thought of living through another one? Of losing Eleanor to yet another asshole who thought he could take what wasn’t his?

No.

Fuck no.

Whoever this cocksucker was, he would not disrupt my happiness. I would not allow him to ruin everything I never thought I’d earn.

The man he wanted to kill was dead.

He was talking about a ghost, and the man I was now...I fucking refused to die (again) when I was so, so close to being happy.

I’d matured since and I could handle this without bloodshed.

I think.

With a steady hand, I placed my cell phone back on the desk and clicked reply.

To: [email protected]

From [email protected]

Subject: Re: Bonjour

I tapped my fingers against the keys, excuses forming, my black and white rules of humans versus animals, food versus souls, and the age-old bullshit of humans thinking they were special over every other living species on our planet.

I wanted to drive my fist into his jaw and demand he acknowledge that it wasn’t just people who felt love and loss and pain. Cows did. Sheep did. A chicken wasn’t just dinner but a creature who had its own language, hierarchy, and lifespan.

The urge to pummel this motherfucker who dare threaten me via email and speak as if he was some liberator of women made me want to ask if he ate meat and shove the hypocrisy down his fucking throat.

But...

He was right.

Buying another for my own gain was wrong.

I knew that.

I’d stopped that.

I’d learned my lesson, and now all I wanted was peace. To keep Eleanor safe. To live out our lives alone and together, away from the jurisdictions and inhumane beliefs of a polluted world.

No one, especially this Q bastard, would take that away from me.

To Q,

I have so much to say so I will keep this brief.

I don’t trust encryption and normally write in code, but for this, I will type blatantly so you get the message loud and clear.

You are right that I bought those women.

You are right that it was wrong to do so.

And you are right that I should pay.

Unfortunately, you are too late.

The last girl I purchased ended my tyranny.

She awakened me and broke me in equal measure.

I fell in love, and everything fell apart.

Because of her, I willingly died. Not hypothetically or romantically. I literally died.

But she loved me enough to bring me back.

And the man I am now is not the man who purchased those women.

They have been freed. Every last one of them. Freed and compensated. I can provide evidence of their safety if it will appease you.

Ordinarily, I would take your threat and retaliate with my own. I am not a man that allows such things to go unpunished. However, in this instance, I understand where you are coming from, and I am on your side.

You have my word that I am reformed. That no other life will be taken by me. All I ask is that you accept my assurances and call off your manhunt.

I’ve paid my debt.

I am just a man doing his best to be worthy of a woman who saved him.

Thirteen girls were bought, eleven were released, and one has chosen to stay. The last girl I’m keeping, but only because she’s kept me. She will be my wife, and I will lay down my life four million times over to protect her.

So, in light of that, allow me a tiny threat of my own.

Come to my shores, and you will not survive.

Threaten me again, and I will track you down and ensure you cannot hurt my wife or loved ones again.

Are we clear?

You have no reason to hunt me.

And I have no desire to hurt you.

Let this be over before it even begins.