"Her mother could wait"

The return flight to the estate was peaceful. The war was officially over. Dorian had completely dismantled the national hierarchy, establishing himself as the undisputed, untouchable king of the American underworld. He had secured his empire, ensuring that his home would never face another coordinated threat.

When the jet landed, the sun was just rising, casting a brilliant, cinematic light over the landscape. Dorian was escorted back to the Westbrook mansion, the bright, airy colors of the estate welcoming him home.

He walked into the grand atrium, shedding his suit jacket and unbuttoning his collar. He felt a profound, exhausting sense of completion. He bypassed the empty dining hall and walked directly to his study.

Lottie was still there, asleep on the leather sofa. She looked up, her beautiful face lighting up with genuine, overwhelming relief when she saw him standing in the doorway, completely unharmed.

"Dorian," Lottie breathed, using his first name without thinking, crossing the room.

"The borders are secure, Lottie," Dorian murmured, catching her as she threw her arms around his broad shoulders. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, the cold, sociopathic mask melting entirely. "There are no more monsters."

"You did it," she whispered, tears of relief shining in her eyes. "You kept us safe."

He pulled back slightly, his dark, perceptive eyes locking onto hers. The intense, magnetic pull between them was undeniable. He reached up, his tattooed fingers gently brushing her cheek.