MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver-wire ring—one that Leo had fashioned for him from the scraps of the Vanguard-01.
"Ninety-five chapters, Gianna," Nevan said, his voice husky with emotion. "From the alley in Florence to the white rooms in Tver. From the Kremlin to the heart of the Source. And now, we’re here."
"The design is finished, Nevan," I said, taking the ring and sliding it onto my finger.
"No," he said, pulling me into a deep, slow kiss. "The design is over. The story is just beginning."
We stood on the terrace as the stars began to appear—the cold, distant stars that no longer whispered of harvests or architects. They were just lights in the dark, and for the