Alyssa

"Are you sure I shouldn't be cooking dinner?" I ask, curled between King's legs on the couch, my back resting against his chest. His arms wrap securely around me, our fingers laced together. His warmth anchors me—steadies the part of me that keeps waiting for everything to fall apart.

Today, I want to believe it won't.

That things will finally end the way they're supposed to.

Silas, dead.

My men, safe.

My shadow daddy... quietly slipping back into ...