SARAH I wake up to white ceiling tiles and the smell of antiseptic. Hospital. I’m in a hospital. My hand goes immediately to my stomach. After everything I went through the last time I had my eyes open, are my babies…? “They’re fine.” The voice that seeps into my ears causes me to whip my head around so quickly, everything starts spinning again. That’s when I see them. Blue eyes stare lovingly at me from the chair closest to my bed, Ronan is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Malachi is standing by the window. Jaxon is at the foot of my bed with his hands gripping the railing. The common thing in all their eyes is sheer exhaustion. How long have I been away? “Hey,” the word comes out as a tired sigh, and they all rush to my side. All I want to know right now is how our children are. “Is everything…okay?” My voice comes out rough. Broken. My throat feels like I swallowed glass. They know my question has nothing to do with me. Malachi runs a hand down my forehead, eyes glistening with care. “The doctor checked twice. Everything is fine. Both heartbeats are very strong.” I close my eyes. Thank God. Thank God. “How are you?” I croak, and Ronan scoffs. “Really baby? We don’t matter. All that matters now is you and how you’re feeling. Okay?” I nod weakly. “How long have I been here?” “Eight hours,” Ronan says. His voice is tight. I can tell he’s barely holding it together.“You passed out in the street. We’re so lucky the police car was on patrol. I don’t know…” He trails off, and Jaxon pats his shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re awake, baby.” “Duncan?” I ask, even though I already know. “Dead,” Jaxon says flatly. “You shot him in the neck. He bled out before the ambulance arrived.” “And Caroline?” “She was dead when the police got there. They say she crawled to the chicken and slit her wrist with a knife.” My eyes widen. Fuck. That is…that’s just insane. “I can’t believe she did that.” I mutter underneath my breath. “We were careless, Sarah,” Ronan starts speaking again. “We thought we had the whole place tight, but we failed you. We fucking failed you.” “You didn’t.” “We did.” Jaxon cuts in. “If anything had happened to your or our children…” “But nothing did. And frankly, it’s too much trauma for me to process right now. So please…” I look at them. At these three men who flew back from Geneva the second they heard. Who are looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. “I understand now,” I say quietly. “Understand what?” Malachi asks. “What you did. For me. What you’re capable of.” I squeeze Ronan’s hand. “Luke HawkThorne tried to hurt me. And you stopped him. Permanently. I used to wonder if that made you monsters. If I should be scared of what you could do.” “And now?” Ronan’s voice is very quiet. “Now I know. You did what you had to do. Just like I did.” I look at each of them. “I don’t blame you. I never will. Not anymore.” Something shifts in the room. Relief. Understanding. Acceptance. The doctor comes in then, interrupts the moment. Checks my vitals. Asks me questions about pain levels and dizziness. “You have a concussion,” she tells me. “Bruising on your throat, ribs, face. Some cuts and scrapes. But nothing that won’t heal.” She looks at the brothers. “She needs rest. Lots of it. And someone should stay with her for the next few days in case of concussion symptoms.” “We will,” all three say at once. The doctor blinks but doesn’t comment. Just make some notes and leaves. I’m discharged that afternoon after Kevin comes in to speak to the doctor, with a list of instructions and a prescription for pain medication. We go to the brothers’ house. Not mine. I can’t go back there yet. Maybe not ever. That night, I’m in their shower—our shower—letting the hot water beat down on my sore muscles. And that’s when it hits me. I killed someone. I pointed a gun at a nineteen-year-old boy and pulled the trigger and watched him die. His blood was on my hands. Literally. I can still see it. Still feel the sticky warmth of it. My knees give out. I’m on the floor of the shower, water streaming over me, and I can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop seeing Duncan’s face. The surprise in his eyes. The blood. So much blood. The shower door opens. I don’t know which one comes in first. Don’t know who turns off the water or wraps the towel around me or lifts me out. I just know suddenly I’m on the bed and they’re all there. Surrounding me. Holding me. And I’m sobbing. Ugly, broken sobs that hurt my bruised throat but I can’t stop. “I killed him,” I gasp out. “I killed him I killed him I killed him—” “Shh.” Malachi’s hand is in my hair. “We know. We know, sweetheart.” “He was so young—” “He was a killer,” Jaxon says firmly. “He murdered a sixteen-year-old girl. He broke into your house with a gun. He was going to kill you and our babies. You did what you had to do.” “But I can still see his face—” “I know.” Ronan pulls me against his chest. “I know. It doesn’t go away. Not completely. But it gets easier. I promise.” He would know. If anyone would know, it’s them. For a minute, I wonder if I’m still the light to their darkness, or if this sole act has made me one with their shadows. They hold me while I cry. Don’t try to fix it. Don’t tell me it’ll be okay. They just…hold me, until I stop crying and the shaking stops. I’m exhausted. Wrung out. But I’m here. Alive. With them. “I need to go back,” I say after a long silence. “Where?” Malachi asks. “To my house. I need to see it.” “Sarah—” “I need to face it. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to go back.” They don’t want to let me. I can see it in their faces. But they understand. So they agree. We go the next morning. The house looks normal from the outside. Like nothing happened, besides the yellow and black “police line. Do not cross” tapes all over the entrance. But inside… There’s still blood on the floor. Dark stains on the tiles where Duncan fell. The chandelier is gone. Removed by police, probably. But I can still see it. Can still see Caroline pinned beneath it. Her bloodied trails go all the way to my kitchen. My phone is cracked on the ground somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My hands start shaking again. Ronan and Malachi take one hand each and lock it against their own fingers. “We’ll be a family soon. You’ll never need to see this place if you don’t want to.” “And if you want, we’ll make it brand new for you again.” Jaxon adds to Malachi’s statement, and I reply with a small smile. They will. I know they will. They’ll erase every trace of that night until my house feels like mine again. We leave after that. I’ve seen enough.Three days later, I’m sitting in their kitchen drinking tea that Malachi made when I realize something. I’m tired of waiting. We’ve been engaged for weeks. Planning a wedding for months from now. But after everything that’s happened—after almost dying, after killing someone, after fighting for my life and my babies’ lives—waiting seems pointless. Life is short. Life is fragile. And I want to be their wife. Now. “I want to move the wedding up,” I announce. All three of them look at me. “How far up?” Ronan asks carefully. “Two weeks.” “Sarah, that’s—” “I know it’s fast. I know it’s a lot of work. But I don’t want to wait anymore.” I set down my tea. “I almost died. Duncan almost killed me. And all I could think while I was fighting him was that I wanted to survive. I wanted to marry you three. I wanted our babies to be born. I wanted our life together.” My voice cracks. “So I don’t want to wait months for a wedding. I want to marry you as soon as possible.” Then Ronan stands, and walks to me. I blush as he goes down on one knee in front of my chair. “Two weeks,” he says. “Two weeks,” I confirm. He looks at his brothers. They nod in agreement. “Your wish is our command,” he says, and there’s something fierce in his eyes. “We’ll handle everything. The venue, the guests, all of it. You just rest and heal. And in two weeks, you marry us.” “Deal.” Malachi grins. “I’ll call the wedding planner.” “I’ll handle the venue,” Jaxon adds. “Make sure everything’s perfect.” They’re already moving. Planning. Making calls. And I just sit there, drinking my tea, feeling lighter than I have in days. Two weeks.In two weeks, I’ll be their wife. After everything—after Aaron, after Julian, after Caroline and Duncan, after fighting for my life—I’ll finally get my happy ending. ----- One week before the wedding, I’m standing in front of the mirror in our bedroom. The bruises on my face are fading. Yellow-green now instead of purple. My throat still has marks, but they’re lighter. I’m healing. The brothers find me there. All three of them, appearing in the doorway like they always do. “What are you doing?” Malachi asks. “Just looking.” Ronan comes up behind me. Wraps his arms around my waist. Rests his chin on my shoulder. “What do you see?” I look at our reflection. At his arms around me. Malachi and Jaxon join us. “A survivor,” I say. “A fighter.” “Hmmm,” he sniffs my neck. “You want to know what I see?” I nod eagerly. I’m ready to hear anything he has to say. I know it’ll be good. Still, nothing prepares me for the river of tears that rushes into my eyes as he smiles and says. “Light, Mrs HawkThorne,” He kisses the back of my head. “I see light.”