“I know, and if I were in your place, I’d want to murder me and my siblings.”

  “I could never hurt you, Amara. Your siblings, on the other hand… I could choke the life out of them and never miss a beat.”

  Her inhale echoed in the silence of the room. “You might want to include me in that statement once you hear my next words.”

  I tensed, unsure where those words would lead. When she remained quiet, I prompted, “Let’s hear it, then.”

  “Give me a moment,” she muttered. “It might be the last time you talk to me⁠—”

  “That bad, huh?” I let out a sardonic breath. “Better spit it out, Amara, before I conjure shit in my head. Trust me, it isn’t the best place right now.”

  “God, you might hate me after this.” Her words sent unease down my spine, and I readied for the worst, whatever that might be. “Fuck, I’m so sorry to do this after how much I hurt you.”

  “Amara, just spit it out,” I spat. “The suspense is killing me, and I’m not in the best shape as it is.”

  She cleared her throat, and I could practically feel the tension rolling off her and permeating the air.

  “How do you feel about… marriage?”

  I hesitated, then asked, “Can you elaborate, so we’re on the same page? Who exactly would I be marrying?”

  She paused.

  I wished I could see her face. Just a flicker of expression—her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing together, the tilt of her head. Anything. A clue. A thread to follow in this darkness that I couldn’t crawl out of. But instead, all I had was silence and a sea of black behind my eyelids.

  Then—soft as a breath, almost too quiet to believe—I heard her.

  “Me,” she murmured.

  Her voice had never sounded like that before—barely above a whisper, fragile in a way that didn’t suit her. Amara was fire, all sharp edges and wild grace. But now?

  Now she sounded almost scared.

  “I don’t think I heard you right, preciosa.”

  An audible gulp bounced off the walls. “I don’t deserve this, and I certainly don’t deserve your mercy or saving, but I’m still asking you. Will you marry me?”

  My heart stuttered. “What did you just say?”

  “It’s messed up, I know,” she said, her words stumbling over each other. “And the furthest thing from romance, and you… You’ve been so wonderful and deserve so much more—so much better—than me and this fucked-up situation.”

  It wasn’t exactly how I envisioned the next step in this relationship to go, but life rarely went the way we planned.

  “I have one question before I answer that,” I stated somberly. “Tell me why you’re asking me to marry you.”

  The soft beat of the clock was so loud between us as I waited for her answer.

  “I don’t want to lie to you,” she said softly. “It wasn’t something that crossed my mind, especially after I cost you so much. And I’m sure you don’t want me, not after what my siblings and I have done to you. Kian demands it so we can keep the peace.”

  Disappointment flooded me and refusal was already on the tip of my tongue, but then she continued, “But that’s not the only reason, Gabriel. I love you. I’m not sure where, when, or how, but somewhere along the way, I fell for you. There isn’t a man on this planet who’s more patient, kinder, or greater than you. There isn’t a man I want as much as you. And there isn’t another man who I love. Only you.”

  My chest fucking trembled, and I swore I felt like an emotional wimp, but I loved every word I heard. And fuck it, I wanted to hear it again.

  “Repeat that,” I instructed, my voice raspy.

  “God, really?” she breathed. “You didn’t hear me?”

  “I’m blind, Amara. Not deaf.” I blinked, but darkness still dominated, and I cursed silently. “I want to hear you say it, hear the emotions in your voice. I fucking hate that I can’t see you, so I depend on hearing your feelings in your voice.”

  “I love you, Gabriel,” she said slowly. “I crave you. I desire you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but if you don’t share those feelings, I wouldn’t blame you. And dammit, if it causes a war between our families, then so be it, but I will not fight you. You can do what you will with me, because I deserve your wrath, and I will forever mourn what we had.”

  “So you’re asking me to marry you because you love me or because you want to prevent the fallout of your actions? Or are you asking me because Kian demanded it of you?”

  “I guess all of the above,” she admitted. “I love you, but I don’t deserve your forgiveness, so I wouldn’t have the courage to ask you to marry me if not for Kian’s stipulation.”

  I sighed. “I don’t like that Kian’s putting ultimatums on you.”

  “Honestly, I deserve for him to cut me off from the family after my actions.” I could hear shame weaving through her words. “I deserve no better.”

  “Amara, you deserve the best,” I countered.

  “Your brother was ready to wreak havoc, and Kian is furious. Not at him, but at Elira, Jet, and me.” She hesitated. “In fact, Raphael was prepared to murder us all and go after Kian, so I told everyone that I’m pregnant.” A beat passed. Then two. “I’m not. Obviously, I’m not. And I don’t care that I lied to them all, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

  “Santo Cristo,” I muttered.

  “I know.”

  I laughed, although it wasn’t exactly full of joy. Too much shit had happened. “This must be the most romantic proposal the world has ever seen.”

  “It wasn’t exactly something I practiced or ever dreamed of doing. And I know how badly I fucked up by kidnapping you. If I hadn’t… This is all my fault.”

  “If I’m honest, Amara, this sounds like a proposal out of guilt.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh—part frustration, part surrender.

  “No, Gabriel, I’m not proposing because of the guilt. And I know the timing is horrible, don’t you think I know that? I’m proposing because I like you.”

  I snorted. “Before everything blew up, and even mere minutes ago, I could’ve sworn you said you loved me.”

  She let out a strangled, almost embarrassed laugh that was caught somewhere between a breath and a confession.

  “I do love you,” she murmured. “Although it doesn’t seem you could reciprocate those feelings, so despite the fact that I deserve it, I’m trying to preserve some of my self-respect by not shouting it from the bottom of my lungs.”

  That shut me up.

  The room was still, and I could feel her gaze on me even though I couldn’t see her. Something unspoken passed in the silence—something heavier than the words themselves.

  “This… us…” she started, softer now, but steadier. “We’ve felt inevitable for years. I remember every conversation. Every glance. Every near-miss. Every time you looked at me like you wanted to say something but didn’t. And every time I did the same.”

  She paused, and I sensed her leaning over me, like she needed to be closer to say what came next.

  “I don’t even remember the name of the first man I slept with,” she continued, voice edged with quiet amusement. “But I remember everything about you.” She hesitated, then added, “So, yeah. I love you, and I hope… I don’t know… I hope that maybe you at least like me, that this ridiculous game we’ve been playing wasn’t just a game.”

  I leaned back, the bandages over my eyes suddenly too tight, like they were strangling me. “You have no idea how I’ve longed to hear you say those words.”

  She stiffened. “But⁠—”

  “I can’t tie you to me now, but I’ll ensure you’re safe.”

  “Why can’t you marry me?” she protested.

  “Preciosa, I might never see again,” I reminded her, my voice rough. “When we have a family, how the fuck am I supposed to help raise one if I’m blind as a bat?”

  She let out a long, weary sigh, the kind that carried too much emotion for her to pack into words.

  “You will get your sight back, Gabriel,” she said firmly, and when I didn’t respond, she added, softer now, “But even if you don’t, I wouldn’t care. Not one damn bit. You could be blind, deaf, in a wheelchair. It doesn’t matter. I already told you, I lied to your family about being pregnant to buy us time, but I meant what I said to you.”

  She squeezed my hand, grounding me again in the warmth of her presence.

  “All I care about is you—the man you are. And you’re a good man, Gabriel. You really are. Patient, protective, maddeningly kind, even when I don’t deserve it. And all that wrapped up in a stubborn, impossibly loyal Colombian package. Honestly, I never stood a chance against your charm. Not really.”

  I swallowed hard. She was saying all the right things—too right. And Dios, I wanted to marry her. This whole situation was insane, barely stitched together by lies and adrenaline, but then again… so was she. So was her family. I’d stopped expecting normal the second I fell for Amara.

  My throat tightened.

  “I have a condition,” I said, trying to steady my voice even though my heart was anything but. “You told my family you’re pregnant. So if we’re getting married… we start trying. Right after the vows. No games, no delays. We make that lie real.”

  She didn’t answer at first—and that hesitation, though it was exactly what I’d expected, still made something in my chest seize up like a fist. I’d loved her for years, watching her from a distance, memorizing every line of her face like scripture. I wanted what was best for her. I still did. And maybe that wasn’t me anymore.

  But Dios mío, I wanted her to choose me anyway.

  Blind. Broken. I wanted her to choose me. Babies or not, I wanted her to always choose me.

  Because I had chosen her a long time ago. And I’d keep choosing her for the rest of my life.

  Then, finally, she said in a clear and unwavering voice, “Okay.”

  My heart stopped, then kicked painfully in my chest.

  “Let’s get married,” she said, no hesitation this time. “And let’s work on starting a family.”

  “Just like that?” I asked, suspicion curling around my relief.

  She let out a tired laugh. “Just like that. I’m definitely looking forward to the exercise of trying to get pregnant.”

  I shook my head faintly, a smile ghosting across my lips. “You’re an unusual woman, Amara. That’s probably why I love you.”

  She chuckled. “Says the man who’s been stalking me for years and now wants to put a baby in me.”

  Her lips brushed mine—soft, sure, and devastatingly real. I smiled against them.

  “I love you, Gabriel Santos.”

  I deepened the kiss, tasting the weight of her words and the promise they carried. A promise that tasted like fire and forever.

  A promise bound by blood, family, and love.

  Raphael

  Hospitals made me itch. Not physically—no, this was deeper.

  It stretched all the way back to my mother’s long hospital stays, and to Sailor, during her recovery after the attack. The antiseptic stench—too clean, too sharp—clung to my skin, crept under it. It made me feel helpless all over again. I still remembered how hard it had been to clean Sailor’s wounds and how impossible it had felt to make her whole again.

  But now my brother needed me. And there was nothing—not even God himself—that would keep me from being here.

  Because when Santos blood spilled, the world bent around us.

  Watching Anya and Gabriel grow up had been the most rewarding—and most terrifying—part of my life. They were strong. Independent. Capable. And all I wanted was to lock them in my house and keep them safe from the world.

  But I didn’t.

  And now this happened.

  “Don’t go all macho on me, Raphael,” Sailor said quietly, her fingers curling around mine. “They’re adults. Locking them away wouldn’t protect them. It’d only trap them, and they would resent us for that.”

  She always sensed the storm building inside me before I even felt the lightning strike.

  I exhaled, jaw clenched.

  “I’m worried sick about them. Anya and Jet…” I hesitated, then shook my head. “Actually, no. I do know how I feel. I want to murder that psychopathic Volkov heir.”

  “Raphael,” she said sharply, her tone cutting through me. “You can’t put the sins of the father on the children. We don’t know the full story yet. But that picture of Anya—smiling after she married him—that doesn’t lie.”

  “That boy should’ve never done it like that,” I growled. “I was supposed to walk her down the aisle. He stole that from me. And now Gabriel’s in here, blind, because of him. His actions lead to fucking catastrophes.”

  Sailor wore her calm like armor, but I knew the cracks. The tremor in her chin. The way she squeezed my hand just a little too tight. She was just as wrecked over this as I was.

  “We can’t blame him,” she whispered.

  But I did.

  My daughter was out there alone with Jet, and Gabriel lay broken behind those doors with bandages over his eyes, shoulder torn up, the future I’d imagined for him possibly stolen.

  Anya and Gabriel were the best of our family, and now one was missing and the other might never see again.

  I was going to kill someone for that. I just hadn’t decided who.

  The hallway door creaked open and Kian stepped in from one of the other rooms, flanked by Elira Volkov.

  She walked in like she expected a fight. I stared her down, weighing my options. Maybe she should pay for her brother’s sins. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. She just lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at me. Volkov blood through and through.

  “Raphael,” Sailor muttered under her breath, elbow brushing mine. “Enough with the staring contest.”

  She had that polite, unreadable smile on her face, but I could feel the tension in her body. Like me, she didn’t trust the girl.

  Amara was with Gabriel inside the hospital room. She was another fire I hadn’t figured out how to extinguish.

  She was a damn wildfire of a woman. Dangerous. Defiant. And apparently in love with Gabriel.

  I couldn’t decide if I respected her or wanted her gone.

  Maybe both.

  Gabriel probably felt the same.

  But when Amara dropped the bomb—the kind that rearranged the atmosphere—everything stopped.

  She was pregnant. And Gabriel was the father.

  Silence had followed her announcement. Kian looked like he’d been hit in the gut. Sailor went still and I forgot how to breathe.

  A man like me shouldn’t be easy to shock. But that… that took the wind right out of me.

  My brother had gotten his captor pregnant.

  Jesus.

  I needed to talk to Gabriel. Now.

  The door to his private room creaked open and Amara stepped out.

  I tried to read the girl, but her poker face was perfect. Too perfect. She walked out of the room like a queen descending from her throne. Technically, I guess she was mafia royalty, but who gave a damn?

  “Gabriel’s ready for you,” she said calmly.

  I exchanged a look with Sailor and we stepped inside.

  The scent of antiseptic hit again, harder this time. So did the reality of it all.

  My brother lay in the hospital bed, gauze over his eyes and his arm strapped in a sling. But he smiled. That same lopsided, infuriating smile he’d worn since I met him as a young boy.

  “Hey, you two,” he greeted. “I’m assuming there are two of you—Raphael and Sailor?”

  He chuckled at his own blind joke.

  But all I felt was grief. And fury. And love.

  Because nothing hurt worse than seeing someone you loved try to smile through hell.

  Gabriel

  The stillness in the room stretched like a rubber band pulled too tight, and frustration coiled in my chest like a live wire. Or maybe that was fury rolling off Raphael, I couldn’t really tell.

  Machines beeped in a slow, mechanical rhythm. A low hum from the overhead lights buzzed in the background, blending with the hiss of oxygen and the shuffle of footsteps in the hallway outside.

  I fucking hated being this helpless.

  “Gabriel,” Raphael rasped finally. “How are you feeling, hermano?”

  “Hello, darling.” Sailor’s voice was warm and teasing. The two of them couldn’t be more different—my brother all storm clouds and fire, Sailor a steady sea—but I’d never known two people more perfect for each other.

  “You look like shit,” Raphael supplied.

  I let out a gravelly chuckle.

  “I missed you two,” I said, smiling even though it felt brittle. I couldn’t see them. That absence gnawed at me, made everything feel distant and wrong. “I’ve been worse, but don’t worry, I’ll get better fast.”

  “You’re blind,” Raphael snapped.

  “Well, fuck. Thanks for the reminder,” I muttered. “I was just starting to forget.”

  “Boys,” Sailor scolded gently, brushing my hand affectionately. “That’s not something to joke about. You gave us quite the scare, Gabriel.”

  “Sorry,” I said quietly, and meant it.

  Raphael let out a grunt, his mood practically vibrating through the room. “The flight over here was hell.”

  Sailor sighed beside me. “We were worried sick.”

  I forced a smile.

  “Don’t worry. My shoulder’s healing fine and…” I faltered, unsure what to say about my eyes. The ache behind them was a constant throb, a reminder of everything I’d lost. “I’ll manage.”

  “I’ve already reached out to the top ophthalmologists in the world,” Sailor said, always a step ahead, always trying to make things better. “Let’s keep the faith.”

  “Okay.” I heard movement in my periphery. “What’s happening right now? In the room, I mean?”

  They paused.

  “Raphael’s sitting by the window,” Sailor replied after a beat. “And I’m in the chair next to your bed.” Her hand covered mine again. “Right here.”