I BLINK AT ANGEL. I'VE JUST WOKEN UP and she is staring at me like . . . like this is the last time she'll ever see me. Like we are the last two people on earth. For a moment, my breath catches. Is this what I think it is?

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

"Two years ago," she begins, sitting down next to me, "I met you." Her hand goes to my face, resting against my cheek. She smooths my hair. "And I didn't know what you would become to me. I didn't know what you would do to me."

I stare at her, heart in my throat.

"You broke my heart," she whispers. "You broke me. More than once. I've . . . I have lived with knowing you're dead. I've lived with knowing that you hate me, because you thought I had betrayed you. I had even lived with you being with Cassian, because I thought it made you happy."

She pauses. Her hazel irises gleam, surrounded by sunflower yellow. "But nothing, nothing compared to seeing you in true pain yesterday. When I thought you were going to die as you clutched your chest. Because in that moment, I knew . . . my heart is yours. As you told me your story, asking me for forgiveness, I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to trust you, but I want to try. I know we'll get there someday. But I'll always love you, even when you break my heart." A tear slips from her eye, and she wipes it away, sniffling, half-laughing. "You can have my heart, Cade. It's all yours. Just . . . take care of it, alright?"

Dominic's words come back to me. Take care of her, will you?

I will, I think, sending up a silent prayer to him, wherever he is. I'll take care of her.

"Angel," I say softly. Strangled.

"When I met you," she continues, "I was living in the only world I knew. I needed the respect of Sicily, so I got it the only way I knew how: through fear. But you, you have taught me empathy. You've taught me mercy, and kindness, and how to good. For that, Cade, you not only have my heart, you have me. Forever."

"You're not . . . leaving?"

She shakes her head, wiping away the tears as they come. "I'm not leaving."

I start to cry, too. "Angel, I thought you wouldn't forgive me."

"It was the same for me," she says in a hushed voice. "Being without you, feeling that constant pain, it was the same. I never stopped missing you."

"But Maria . . ."

Her eyes flicker away guiltily. "I used her to make myself feel better. I never thought you were coming back. I know it was wrong, but . . . I needed a way to ease the pain."

I nod. Understanding. "But what about the Mafia? What about you being a lord? You know I don't want to stay here. You can't always be on vacation."

"I won't be. I gave it up."

My jaw drops. "You did what?"

"I renounced my title," she says. "Publicly. I am no longer the Falcone lord. I'm just . . . Angel."

"Angel," I say, testing it out on my tongue without the weight of the Mafia behind it. I like it. "I'm Cade."

"Hello, Cade," she says, smiling.

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

She grins. A wicked, devilish grin that makes me think of all the things I want to do to her-all the things I shouldn't, not with my bullet wound and my injuries.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"I was thinking . . . wherever we want."

"Tahiti? Hawaii? I kind of picture us as the owners of a little surf shack," she says. "On the beach all day. Sandy hair all the time."

I lean forward, pressing my lips into hers. A soft, sweet kiss. I never want it to end, but eventually I pull back and say, "I just have one stop to make first. And then the world is ours."

She tucks a strand of hair back behind my ear. "You can take me anywhere, Cadenza."

I BREATHE IN DEEPLY, TRYING to ignore the fear that nips at me, clawing at me.

It's okay to be afraid. You just have to be brave anyway.

Angel holds my hand as the guard calls me to the front. Before she lets go, I give her one last searing kiss for strength. For what I'm about to do.

As I make my way to the counter, the guard says, "You sure about this? Nathan Walker is really something."

Behind him, another guard adds, "A real piece of work, that one."

I nod firmly. I need to do this.

The guard leads me through a grey concrete hallway, and at the end of the hall there is a thick steel door with a glass panel to see through.

"Listen," the guard says, "if you ever feel like you don't want to do this anymore, or you want to get out of there, just signal to me. I'll be watching the whole time. He's in chains, so he won't be able to physically hurt you but . . ."

I nod again. "Thank you."

And then he opens the door.

Nathan looks just like I remember him. Cold, arrogant, with a charming smile and a perfect set of pearl teeth. With his clear skin and his sharp gaze, you would never guess what lurks beneath the mask. The monster that hides behind those blue eyes.

"Hello, Cady," he says calmly.

He is in a thin blue jumpsuit. His arms and legs are both weighted down with heavy shackles, but even as he looks at me, completely restrained, a sinister shiver goes down my spine. There is a table in front of him, a chair where I am meant to sit.

Across from him, I slowly sink down into the chair.

"Hi, Nathan."

"You came to visit me," he says, still smiling. "I knew you would. Did you miss me?"

"No," I say stiffly. "You're a psychopath. A liar."

"Oh, Cady," he sighs. "Who has been filling your head with things like that?"

I pounce on. "You're a rapist, Nathan."

At that, he flinches, his handsome face darkening with the cruel sneer I am so acquainted with. "Lies, all of it," he says. "You wanted it. Every second."

"No," I say coldly. "I was ten. And you were my stepbrother. I never wanted any of it, and you're sick in the head. You've gotten what you deserved."

"I'll come find you. I'll kill you in your sleep."

Once, this would have made me shake and tremble. I would have bit my lip, tried to steady my hands, and the words would have rolled through me like a tsunami of emotion. But now I see this for what it is: empty threats.

So I only smile. "You're never getting out of here, Nathan," I say softly, gently. As though he is a child and not the person I've been so desperately afraid of for years. "You have a life sentence. And you don't even have parole."

"You and all the other bitches that testified at my trial," he spits. "I'll find all of you. Each and every one of you."

"No," I say quietly. "You won't."

His face twitches, an almost imperceptible crease of his mouth. Instantly, I know I have won.

I've won.

But it isn't winning. Not really. He's my demon, and I've conquered him-I've bested him. I can look into his eyes without flinching, and I can see him for what he is: a rapist. My rapist.

And I'm a victim. But I'm also a survivor.

He may have taken my virginity, my innocence, but he can't take away that from me: who I am. What I've become.

"I'm sorry," I say finally. My final words to him as I signal to the guard. All I needed was these brief few minutes, this short time alone with him, to finally see what I needed.

I can move on. I can let go.

"For what?"

"You wanted me to be weak," I say. "To be scared. You wanted me to forever be the little girl who did whatever you asked whenever you asked, because she didn't know any better. But I'm not, and I'm sorry you have to see that, because you'll die knowing you didn't break me."

He stands up so suddenly that the guard is in the room faster than I can blink. He rattles at the chains, his face red and ugly with rage. "Don't you leave this room, Cadenza! Don't you dare walk away from me! I promise, I'll find you! I swear to God, I-"

The door slams shut, and I walk away from him. From my past.

From everything that has been holding me back.

And as I walk back through that grey concrete pavement, I see the end of it: the door, with Angel's worried face peering in. I see her, and I know she is waiting for me.

I walk towards that door, towards my future. And when it opens, she holds me tight in her arms and I never want to let go of the feeling. Light. Life.

"WHERE DO YOU WANT to go next?" I ask lazily, tracing patterns into the white sand of Greece's beach.

"I was thinking maybe somewhere permanent," Angel says slowly. "Somewhere we can call home."

I sit up suddenly, alert, awake. "Wait-you want to settle down?"

Angel and I have been roaming the world for the past few months, traveling to every city we've ever wanted to see, taking pictures in Pompeii, walking through the streets of Toronto, visiting Melbourne, Australia.

With all the money from the heists-especially the Jewels, it was no wonder we could go wherever we wanted. And I didn't regret any of it-every moment of this, I treasured. Knowing exactly what it would be like to lose her, and loving every minute we're together.

"Yes," Angel says, her face reddening.

A blush. I throw myself into her arms, knocking her back into the sand. We collide into the shoreline, and a soft wave of water washes over us, soothing the heat from Greece's bright sun.

"Are you asking me to move in with you?" I say, kissing her neck, her jaw.

She laughs. Seawater spills over us again, and she coughs on it. "Yes, yes, that's what I'm asking."

"Where do you want to live?"

Shyly, she says, "I was thinking New Orleans. I know you wanted to go there before, and I've been looking at the real estate lately . . ."

Before she can say more, I am hugging her all over again, laughing with my arms around her, sand in my hair, on my face, with the sound of the sea in my ears.

A home. As long as I'm with her, I'm home. But it would be nice to have a place to call our own. A place to return to at the end of the day, a place where we could be safe and love each other and live our lives.

"Oh, Angel," I say. "When do we leave?"

She smiles roguishly. "Soon. This time, I have one last stop left."

THE LAST TIME WE WERE HERE, I ASKED her what she wanted. And she didn't tell me.

I remember the windy night, as she stood at the edge, gazing out onto the city. I asked her what she wanted, and she was silent. I went back to the hotel, furious, especially after Dominic had pleaded with me to talk to her. I thought it had been for nothing.

The memory comes back to me as we stand here now. The way the city lights looked like when it was dark, how a gleaming blank of stars was spread out over the world.

Now, it's evening and the sky is pink. Flushed with orange and goal and the saturated colours of the sunet, the world is beautiful tonight.

We stand at the top of the rickety staircase we climbed those two years ago. Staring out into the streets of Paris.

A bottle of wine in my hand. A smile on my face. Angel beside me.

There is nothing else I want in the world.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" I say, my lips parting in awe.

Angel smirks. "It is."

But she's not looking at the sunset or the city.

Her eyes on me, she leans toward me. Instinctively, I kiss her. Electricity winds between us, heat and storm and sun, all combined into a warmth that flows through my veins and lights me up, filling me with an inner glow.

Is this what the world feels like, bathed in sunlight?

"Come on, open up the bottle," Angel says, breaking away from the kiss with a smile. "I dare you to uncork it over the edge."

I raise a brow. "Oh, you're in for it."

Standing at the edge of the Eiffel Tower, I twist my hands around the cork of the bottle, struggling with it. I hear Angel laughing behind me, and it only makes me pull harder, harder until-pop. The cork flies off, soaring down, down, down into the city of Paris.

"I hope that didn't hit anyone," I say. But I notice Angel has stopped laughing.

I turn around.

She is down on one knee, her eyes looking up into mine, her face earnest and open and painfully afraid. She shines as she speaks, starting with, "Cade . . ."

I clap my hands over my mouth. Unable to believe what I'm seeing.

"Cade," she continues. "Two years ago, we stood in this very spot on a dark night. Back then, you asked me a question. You remember, don't you?"

I nod, moving my head fervently, feverishly. Yes, yes, I remember.

Her smile grows. "You asked me what we were. What I wanted. And at the time, I didn't answer. I couldn't. Telling you that I liked you, really and truly liked you seemed impossible. I thought I always had to be this strong, heartless Mafia lord. Until you came around, I had never been in love." Her voice becomes choked. Her eyes glisten. "But you showed me what it was like, and I was so, so afraid. I didn't answer when you asked."

In the moment when she pauses, the silence lasts an infinity. A lifetime.

"But I'm answering you now," she whispers, her voice so low that I move closer. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Cadenza Conti. I want to-to marry you, and wake up next to you, and make babies with you." At this, she lets out a little laugh that makes the tears come harder down my cheeks. "I want to grow up with you and go grocery shopping with you. Every night, I want to come home to you. I want to be your wife, Cade. I want to see you with wrinkles and white hair. I want-I want to be with you. Forever."

Tears stream between my fingers. My hands are still clapped over my mouth. I am already jumping up and down, the wind coursing through my hair, lifting me up into a sea of euphoria, never-ending happiness.

"Is that a question?" I say.

She grins, her familiar wicked grin. "Cade, will you do me the honor of making me the happiest woman on earth?" She takes a breath. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" I shout. "Yes, yes, yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"

I throw myself onto her, not even caring what the diamond ring looks like as long as I have her. She falls back, and I am surrounded with a feeling of bliss: me and the girl I love, the woman I'm going to marry, who I'm going to spend the rest of my life. This is only the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I can't get over it-the Eiffel tower and the sunset and her glowing face and my racing heart. All of it, so beautiful, so precious.

"I love you," I say, shaking with the excitement. "I love you."

"I love you too, Cade."

This is how the next chapter begins:

Two girls, no longer five feet apart. My head on her shoulder. Her lips on my temple. Security guards yelling in French from down below-probably that we're in an unrestricted area-and the sound of piano and violin, swirling through the air from the streets below.

The sky is glorious, painted in shades of the sunset, and stars have begun to gleam on the darkening horizon. With all that has happened, with all that we've made it past . . . we deserve this. We deserve a soft ending.

And honestly? I'm excited to call Angel Falcone my wife.

The rest of our lives are waiting.

>>>

Angel's Mafia . . . is done.

It's been a long ride, dear readers. This is the ending, and you have made it past 100 chapters. Are you crying a little, too, or is that just the rain?

If you want to see a little more of them, you can check out Hunter's Alpha for a little glimpse. Just ask me, and I'll point you to the right chapters!

Now, I just wanted to say thank you. All of you, everyone who has made it here, who has loved and read this story . . . it's because of you that it's even here. There were times when I contemplated quitting this book. I figured no one would read it anyway, that it was pointless, but it was because of the people that kept commenting, voting, even just reading, that made me keep going.

I'm not kidding when I say Angel's Mafia wouldn't be finished if it weren't for all of you. I would have left Angel and Cade's story half-done, half-resolved. But here they are, at the end, and it's a beautiful day outside.

Dear future fans, to those who won't see this until later, who will read this story sometime in a few days, weeks, months, or even years, I love you. 100 chapters . . . I'm still in awe.

Can I just say this is the first book I've ever finished? And I'm a little bit in shock?

You'll definitely be hearing more from me, so if you ever miss my writing (you might not, who knows) you know where to find me! I'm always here if you need me, my loves.

I think this is our final goodbye.

I'm not crying, you are.

From the moon and back,
Sarai