HUNTER

We were supposed to have a happy ending.

I have been pacing the hospital corridor for eighteen hours. Gianina is weeping quietly into Mikayla's shoulder, and Mikayla's arm is around her waist. Murmuring quiet words of comfort, Mikayla presses soft kisses against Gianina's curly hair.

I have accomplished everything I wanted.

Elijah is dead. Anise is dead. Both the sex trafficking rings in the gangs have been disassembled, and the girls are free.

Once I reached the shore, I stole a ship and locked Imai and the other Yakuza aboard it.

I hope they have a fun eight-month voyage to Saudi Arabia.

And I hope they are welcomed with all the grace of a hostile military.

The door to the hospital is thrown open. Lacy and Kiara burst through, running with all the energy of a sugar-induced high. Tommy follows close behind, giving me an apologetic look.

And maybe any other time I would have been furious.

But I need my kids now, as much as they need me.

"Momma!" shrieks Kiara, jumping into my outstretched arms. I don't have the heart to tell her to lower her voice. "Mom, I thought you were—"

Lacy is glowering at me.

"You. Left. Us," she says, trembling from head to toe.

"Lacy, you know why I had to."

"I thought you were dead!" she says fiercely, stamping her foot.

"Did you miss me?" They are enough to ease the coil of grief in my chest. They are enough to make me feel like the semblance of a whole person again.

"I'm glad you're alive," Lacy says stubbornly. But then she is crying, and I hold out an arm for her to climb into.

Both of them nestled into my chest, kissing the tops of both their heads, I finally look up three and a half hours later to see a doctor approaching me.

It has been almost twenty-two hours.

"How is she?" I say, too choked to say much else.

"We put her in a medically-induced coma," he says. "If she doesn't wake up in the next week, we will be forced to declare her in a vegetative state."

A vegetative state.

Someone who will never wake up.

"It's going to be okay, Mommy," Kiara whispers against my neck, curling her small hands over my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," Mikayla repeats, and when Gianina looks up, her face is tearstained.

I don't miss the way Gianina is sitting on Mikayla's lap, or the way their fingers are interlaced together.

But it's not going to be okay.

It's never going to be okay if Jude doesn't wake up.

I sit at her bedside every day that week.

Holding her hand.

Whispering into her ear.

Telling her all the memories she has forgotten.

Saying, I love you.

Over and over, because I didn't before.

Because I thought we would have more time. Because I thought we would both make it out. Because it wasn't supposed to end with blue lips and pale skin and a faded promise in the electric air between us.

She doesn't wake up that week.

She doesn't wake up the next.

She doesn't wake up even when the doctors say she will never wake up, and it would be so like Jude to be stubborn and prove them wrong, but she doesn't.

We are in the Sicilian hospital. They say Cade was once shot in the heart, and this is the place they took her. This is where she made her full recovery.

But Jude doesn't wake up.

Angel and Cade can't postpone their wedding for much longer. This Friday, they will celebrate. I haven't left Jude's bedside—I haven't left this hospital in three weeks. I don't want to, but eventually I agree for the sake of Lacy and Kiara, who are dying to attend.

I'm sure it will be beautiful. It is set on the edge of a cliff, with a beach just below and the ocean set behind.

But if Jude isn't here, then I don't care.

Eventually, the day of their wedding comes around.

I can't help dreading it—though I have grown to love Angel and Cade as close friends. I don't want to go, but I kiss Jude goodbye anyway.

What if she wakes up?

It is this foolish, stubborn thought that has been tethering me to Jude's bedside these three weeks. What if she wakes up, and I'm not there?

But for the sake of Lacy and Kiara, I let my lips brush her forehead.

A silent goodbye.

I know I'll be back later tonight, but my eyes linger on her face like this is the last time I will ever see her.

Later, once I am wearing a deep, satin blue dress with a thigh-high slit that reveals the tattoos on my legs, I meet all of the guests in front of the sandy path of the Falcone beachhouse.

"You're wearing a dress," Tommy says, eyes widening. "I've only ever seen you in suits."

"If the world knew I looked just as hot in a suit as a dress, I would be too powerful," I shoot back, and he laughs.

Lacy and Kiara each grab onto one of my hands, and we make our way down the mountain towards the sandy ledge of the cliff where the ceremony is being held.

There are violet flowers at the very back of the aisle that separates the rows of white chairs. As the pathway progresses, the petal colour progresses from blue to green to yellow to orange. At the platform of the altar, enormous red roses bloom in the archway.

I take my seat with Tommy and my kids close to the front.

There is pressure building in my chest as I watch the crowd take their place, murmuring excitedly. Angel is already standing at the altar, dressed in a black silk tuxedo with a red lace shirt. Her black hair is unbound, her dark-lashed eyes bright.

"She's so beautiful, Momma," says Kiara. "I've never a bride wear a suit."

The altar is set against the dazzling pink of the evening sky. The ocean waves lap softly at the Sicilian shoreline below the cliff.

The crowd immediately hushes when the music starts playing.

It isn't Canon in D Major—the classic—but instead, I Can't Help Falling In Love. Something soft and sweet and melodious.

The crowd turns to see it as Cade begins walking down the aisle.

Her blue eyes are bright and glistening with tears. She has waited so long for this, I know—and she really, truly deserves this happiness.

Her dress, matching the inside of Angel's lacy red shirt, is a rose red with layers that unfurl like silk. Rustling against the sand as she glides towards her fiancée.

With her blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders, the glowing skin and the quiet blush over her bright face, she is an ethereal vision.

"I want to wear a suit at my wedding," Kiara whispers into my ear.

"Sure," I whisper back, grinning.

Once Cade reaches the altar, Angel holds out a hand for her and she clasps it so certainly I know that neither of them have ever doubted this moment.

They begin to recite their vows, but I am barely paying attention anymore. Thinking of Jude and what our wedding would have been like.

I probably would have worn a black tuxedo, because I know Jude finds it attractive and there is nothing I love more than the look in her eyes when she wants to fuck me. She probably would have worn a pale orange dress, the colour of the sunset, or maybe something gold and silky, backless and with soft, twisting straps.

I would have stood at that altar, watching her walk towards me down the aisle. Her eyes would have met mine, and I probably wouldn't have been able to look away.

And we would have written our own vows. Our own promises to each other.

Jude, I would have said. I have loved you every day since the day I met you. I have loved you more than anything else in this world, and I will love you until there is nothing left in this world. I love you because it makes sense to me—because it is the only thing that makes sense to me. I don't think I could ever imagine a life without you. For as long as you are alive, and even after, I swear I will cherish you. I will treasure you. I will love you with every fiber in my heart, because you deserve that and nothing less.

Her vows probably would have ended with tears in her eyes. She would have said, What else is there to say? I fucking love you.

Once the ceremony is over, Angel and Cade kiss in a way that makes Lacy say, "Gross!"

I give her a sideways smirk. One day, she won't think it's so gross.

The ceremony begins to part, and everybody rushes to congratulate Angel and Cade. I see a woman who must be Cade's mom, with those same blue eyes and blonde hair. I see tattooed Mafia members, who are equally as cheerful. There are people I recognize, and others I don't. Gianina and Mikayla are standing in a shadow, and my jaw loosens when Mikayla's hand snakes out and secures Gianina's face. And my mouth drops altogether when I see Gianina close the distance between them and kiss Mikayla like they've done it a hundred times before.

"Hey, Lacy, Kiara," I say. They both look up at me, eyes wide and shining.

Sometimes it hits me hard—how much I love them.

"Why don't you find Zio Tommy and bother him?"

They exchange glances with each other and grin excitedly, darting off towards Tommy, who is currently using a bad pickup line on an Italian girl.

I need to be alone now.

My thoughts are tangled together, my worry for Jude knotted in my chest. So I make my way down the cliff, slipping off my shoes and letting them fall to the sand.

Everyone is still up on the cliff, so I am alone on the beach now.

The sun has dusted the sky in a fine smear of rose-gold clouds. The ocean kisses the white sand gently, over and over, and I stand at the very edge of the shoreline. Letting the water wash over my calves.

The bottom part of my dress soaks in the sea water, but I could care less right now. The sky is humming with warmth and promise, but Jude isn't here, and I feel empty.

I can imagine a life in which I take care of Lacy and Kiara. Where I watch them grow up. And it isn't a bad life—it is actually beautiful. But if she isn't in it, then how can I ever feel complete?

My gaze drifts up from the glistening water to the sun.

This is the same sun Jude and I once watched set from over the rooftop.

And that colour, the beautiful, gleaming light orange that gilds the horizon—I know Jude would have loved to see it. To be here.

I know I have to back to New Orleans soon.

To take up my heritage as the Alpha.

And I am looking forward to it. To rebuilding the city from the ground up, taking care of it the right way, even if it is hard.

I just wish Jude could have been by my side.

I wish you were here, I think.

But she is gone, and I watch the sunset alone.

>>>

Be honest - do y'all hate me right now?

Sorry! Kind of.

But I promise it's going to get better. Kind of.

From the moon and back,
Sarai