“Do I want to be with you?” He pulled away from her, cupped her face in his hands, and stared into her eyes. “Isabelle, nothing in the world could stop me from being in your life. I love you, and if you had died today, I would have followed you because I couldn’t live without you.” He paused. “Well … I probably could, but I would stay because of Evan, but I would wait out the rest of my life until we could be together again. So, do I want to be with you? You’re damned right I do.”
“Then kiss me.”
And he did.
With the battle now ended and the mages defeated, Isabelle and Ransom held each other and watched the sun rise over the valley. Sometime later, they managed to retrieve their clothes, then made their way back to where the Lycans and their allies were lingering about, tending to the injured and resting from the major battle. Their forces were looking the worse for wear, but overall, they seemed in good spirits. Of course, Isabelle was not naive enough that she didn’t think there weren’t any casualties, but she knew there would be time enough to mourn the dead. For now, it really was a true victory, as they stopped Magus Aurelius from taking over the world.
“I need to check on my guys,” Ransom said in a tight voice.
She squeezed his hands. “Look,” she pointed to two figures a few feet away. “I see Mika and Delacroix. She should know where Hardy and the rest are.”
They trudged over to the couple, who were overseeing the medical team with their treatment of those who were not so critically injured and thus didn’t need to be transported back to The Enclave.
“Cher, sit down, take a breather,” Delacroix urged. “We’ve won. You and our baby can rest now.”
“I’m the head of the Guardian Initiative,” Mika retorted. “I’ll rest when everyone is taken care of. And I’m not even tired.”
“The captain doesn’t always have to go down with the ship, or in this case, be the last one to leave.” He placed a hand over her pregnant belly. “Please? At least have a bite of food. You must be starving.”
“I’m not—oh, hey, Isabelle.” A dark brow shot up as her gaze dropped to their linked hands. “Ransom.”
Being her cousin, Isabelle knew Mika probably knew everything. “Hey, Mika.”
She eyed Ransom warily. “I heard you got Reed back for us. Thank you.”
“Merci,” the Cajun added.
“Have you seen my guys?” Ransom asked quickly.
“I last saw them—oh, I see one of them over there.” She pointed to a grassy patch, where Hardy was sitting down, chatting on the phone.
“Thanks, Mika,” she said.
“We’ll talk later,” Mika replied, eyeing Ransom again.
They trotted over to where Hardy was sitting. He looked exhausted, bloody, and bruised, but the VP managed a smile as they approached. “You shoulda seen the other guy,” he joked as he tried to open his left eye, which was swollen shut.
“Where’s everyone?” Ransom asked.
“They’re fine. Snake got hit with some kind of spell that encased his arm in ice, so they took him back to the Medical Wing to get checked out. Axle’s already, you know, being Axle.” He jerked his thumb at said Lycan, who was chatting with a couple of witches.
“And Logan?”
Hardy’s lips pulled back into a grim line. “Pretty bad shape. He refused any help from the witch healers, but you know that bastard’s tough. Found him limping away somewhere.”
Ransom grunted. “Right.” A look passed between the two men, a silent communication only they understood.
Isabelle tugged on Ransom’s arm. “Would you mind if I went off to check on my family?” She wasn’t worried about them, because surely, if any of them had been hurt seriously, Mika would have said so. “You can stay here with Hardy, if you want.”
“We’re cool, right?” Ransom asked Hardy, who nodded. “Let’s go. We should find Cross and see if he can take us to Evan.”
They continued their walk along the battlefield, and as if by silent agreement, chose to walk around the areas where their forces were cleaning up the bodies of the fallen. It was a somber sight, and Isabelle made silent prayers for all of them—even their human and mage enemies. Death, after all, was not something to celebrate. She knew Lucas, and anyone in his position, would have preferred a bloodless war, but he also had to protect their kind and the rest of the world, and that came with a devastating cost.
As they moved farther away, Ransom’s grip on her hand loosened—she hadn’t even realized that they were clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. They reached the edge of the field, near the dirt road that wound around the valley, where more people were gathering in groups.
“You stupid asshat! What were you thinking?” It was Lizzie Martin, wailing at what looked like a man who was unconscious on the ground. “You didn’t have to go tearing into half a dozen armed men just because they took our van hostage.”
“There, there, dear,” an older woman, who was sitting on the ground with the unconscious man’s head in her lap, said. “My son’s going to be fine. The bullet holes are already sealing up.” It was Wyatt Creed. His face looked terribly pale, and his chest was covered in blood, but the wounds looked like they were already days old.
“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” Lizzie asked. “He lost a lot of blood. Why would he do that?”
Jade Creed looked at the young woman knowingly, the corners of her lips tugging up. “I really couldn’t say. Here, why don’t you take my place for a bit, that’s it …” Lifting Wyatt’s head up, she slid out from under him, and Lizzie took her place.
“Mom! Are you okay? What happened to Wyatt?” Jade’s only daughter, Deedee Creed—or rather, Queen Desiree of Zhobghadi now—came up to them, her face in shock as
