Today marked the one year anniversary of when Dark and Wilford first met. Rather than going out with a bang with a party (they'd learned that the hard way), they decided to take a breather from all the chaos of the mafia and the business world for a night.

    Wilford insisted they go to one of Dark's favorite restaurants, and when he finally caved in, Wilford made sure to make the reservation himself. He couldn't let his surprise be known yet, of course.

    After the events of Fifth Street and Celine's wrath, things hadn't gone back to normal. (They never would). But the couple worked with what they had. Together, they rebuilt their empires into something new.

    Dark set up HQ at Fifth Street and, having learned his lesson, set up security for the place. Before, he would have hired some recommended, top-of-the-line guards. Now, his business offered jobs to some of the members of Wilford's mob. They were tacky at times, but they had a personal investment in the job—and in their bosses. Dark knew that if they stepped out of line, they'd hear it from Wilford—and no one wanted to answer him when he was angry.

    As for Wilford, his days of robbing out houses were over when Dark insisted he talk it through with some of his accountants and realtors who owed him favors over the years. The mob had always played dirty, but with Dark's help, he gave them a stronger shield to protect them from the law. Do everything legally, and watch enforcers pull their hair out trying to find a mistake.

    It wasn't perfect, of course. Both sides came with their flaws, but together, Dark and Wilford were a force to be reckoned with. A mafia boss with ties to a billionaire and his strings in the business world. A billionaire with ties to a mafia boss and his countless resources and "unorthodox" ways of getting whatever he wanted.

    Sometimes, a simple deal got things done. Other times, a gun handled it quite well. Dark certainly liked that about the job. But there was something he liked more, and that was having a partner in all respects—someone he could work with, someone he could have by his side.

    Someone he loved.

    The fact made him smile.

    When night eased onto the city, and the lights sifted through the glass walls of the penthouse, Dark was nearly ready.

    These days, getting dressed took a bit longer than before. After Celine had shot him in the knee, his leg never really healed properly. Now, he used a cane to get around and took the occasional pill to dampen the pain.

    As he slid a tie around his collar, he remembered Wilford's reaction to the news. At first, he was upset, but as they both settled into the penthouse, and Dark struggled to seat himself, Wilford dashed off and came back the next day. When he walked through the door, his face was bright with a grin, and before Dark had a chance to question him, the mafia boss handed him a perfectly crafted cane—sleek, black, with a carved silver handle.

    "I know it's a little cheesy," Wilford had slurred, "but if you look close enough on the engravings, I put our initials on it!"

    Dark never thought he could love Wilford more, but in that moment, his chest overflowed with the feeling.

    "You made this?" he had said, choked up on emotion.

    "Oh—god no," said Wilford, and Dark couldn't help but laugh aloud. "But I did get a friend to make it. Do you—you do like it, right?"

    "You're such a dork," laughed Dark, pulling Wilford in close. "Of course I love it."

    Dark smiled to himself, the memory simmering in the back of his head. He finished his tie, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced around the room.

    It was a slow transition, at first, but within a year, Wilford had moved in with him at the penthouse. There was evidence of him everywhere. One of his silk shirts, strewn across the sheets; a bright pink pillow among the black ones on the bed; a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand with a pink lighter; and a note next to it, scrawled with a heart.

    Dark slipped on his suit jacket and grabbed his cane, approaching the nightstand. He picked up the note and flicked it open, running his thumb along the paper.

    'Be back @ 8,' it said. 'Dress sexy xxx.'

    Dark chuckled and set the note down.

    One year... he thought. It had been one year since they first met, since they went through all that chaos together. The pain, the heartbreak, the fear, and the mourning. And through it all, Dark had found Wilford, and Wilford had found Dark.

    A perfectly imperfect pair.

    Dark checked his watch— 7:49 PM— and headed downstairs to wait for Wilford. He thought it odd that the mob boss insisted to go off and "prepare" for a few hours, but he didn't think anything else of it. Little did he know how much of a nervous wreck Wilford was, using those hours to himself to talk to the restaurant staff, the chef, and pace nervously as he tried to find the perfect outfit for the occasion.

    And then there was one more factor. His sister.

    In addition to rebuilding the mob, Wilford had tried to rebuild what was left of his family. Wilma Barnum had gone dark for months, but this time—unlike before—he searched high and low for her. Until finally, he found her walking down a runway in New York, waving to the audience as they applauded her.

    Wilma had gone from stealing priceless jewelry to making her own.

    She didn't make it easy for Wilford to regain her trust. She tried him and tested him tirelessly over the past few months—made sure to let him know all the shit he put her through, and all the memories he'd missed out on—but after a while, she finally caved.

    Wilford called her on the ride back to his and Dark's penthouse, nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Knowing her recent trends, he expected her to flake out on him at the last minute. "It's payback for what you did to me," he expected her to say, venom in her tone.

    But the line picked up, and Wilford jumped in his seat, his heart beating faster the closer he got to the penthouse.

    "Hey!" he said nervously. "You're still coming right? You know, what we, what we talked about—"

    "God, you are such a mess," said Wilma through the phone. To anyone else, she would have sounded rude, but her tone made Wilford smile. He was glad his sister was giving him a chance. "Why do you want me to record it anyway? You know the paparazzi will give you all the pictures you want."

    "Wellll," said Wilford, slowing to a stop in front of the penthouse, "they would if I didn't threaten them with some... fun."

    Wilma sighed through the line. "What did you do?"

    "I might've set a guy on fire," he said. Wilma made a sound between disbelief and amusement. "But anyway! Please, are you coming or not??"

    "I am," she said, almost fondly.

    "And, and you know where to sit? The hostess, Eric, he should let you know where to—"

    "Yes, idiot," said Wilma. "Go get all gross or whatever with your boyfriend already. You're making my ears bleed."

    "Okay, okay," said Wilford. "Buh-bye."

    Wilford kept the car on and rushed towards the house, taking a deep breath at the door. He checked the time on his phone. 8:00. Right on time.

    Wilford opened the door and announced his presence with a loud, "I'm home!"

    "Oh, you are?" called Dark's voice from the kitchen. "I started eating already."

    "What!" Wilford shouted, rushing through the house. Dark laughed at his reaction, and when Wilford slid into the kitchen, the businessman turned around, smiling with perfect teeth as he leaned against his cane. He was dressed in his usual black suit, this time accented with a deep red vest. Wilford reminded himself not to gape at the sight.

    "Just kidding," said Dark with a wink, and Wilford blushed red. "But I did get you this."

    Dark lifted a vibrant red rose and walked over, the click of his cane accenting his footsteps. He stopped in front of Wilford and tucked the rose into the pocket of the man's dark pink suit, catching his scent of strawberries and tobacco.

    "There," said Dark, smoothing a hand over Wilford's chest. He stepped back and took in the sight of him, admiration swelling in his chest. The man always looked gorgeous, but he elevated his look with a fitted, dark pink suit; a sheer-patterned ivory shirt; and matching shoes with glittering heart pins. His hair was slicked back, showing off his features, with a few curls going stray in his face.

    Wilford lifted Dark's free hand and kissed it, giving him a smile that made his body burn. "Are you ready, my love?"

    My love... Dark didn't think he'd ever get used to that one.

    Dark smiled and took a deep breath, grateful to call Wilford his. "I am," he said.

———

The restaurant blushed with dim lights and soft chatter from black-tied guests. A pianist played a gentle jazz melody, the keys running over the clink of cutlery and the footsteps of passing waiters.

    Dark and Wilford enjoyed their night, sharing laughs and teasing glances over their glasses of wine and meals. It had only been a year, and yet Dark felt closer to Wilford than anyone he ever had before. Only months ago, they had had their first dinner together, and it was over a deal Dark was forced into because of Celine.

    He and Wilford weren't the only ones who had changed.

    Deja Dumont expanded her business and upped her security after her terrifying run-in with Celine; had even become a protected asset of Wilford's mob. Mess with Dumont, and you mess with the mafia.

    Mark visited Dark at the hospital before he was dispatched and gave him a final farewell. It was emotional, and Dark nearly admitted how he once felt about the bodyguard—but he felt it was better to keep things professional as they always had been. No longer Dark's bodyguard, he went through an Academy and became partners with Amy Nelson as both an FBI agent and her boyfriend. (Dark and Wilford agreed to keep an eye on them).

    As for Agent Nelson, she became head Detective of the precinct and kept Abe's legacy alive, reminding officers of his bravery and drive when it came to the Warfstache case. With Director Kjellberg out of commission because of his injury, she was the first to be considered for the position. If she became Director—and Dark and Wilford were sure she would in due time—then she would be an obvious sore on their backs.

    "This is nice," said Dark quietly, setting his wine glass down. He glanced at Wilford and met his eyes with a smile. "Thank you for taking me out tonight, dear."

    Wilford couldn't help but grin and count each time Dark used a pet name. "Of course," he said, resting an elbow on the table and leaning forward. He set his hand in the middle of the table. "Happy anniversary, my love."

    Dark gently took Wilford's hand and kissed it. "Happy anniversary," he breathed against his skin.

    Wilford tightened his hand in Dark's, and he noticed the mafia boss was shaking. He carefully sent him a look.

    "You alright?" he muttered.

    "Right as rain!" he chuckled, gently pulling away. Dark slowly rose a brow, and Wilford inwardly swooned at the gesture; he loved it when Dark showed him concern.

    Dark reached over and took Wilford's hand back, cradling it in both of his own. "Is this about Jim?" he asked, eyeing him carefully. Wilford blinked in surprise at the question—he had been so caught up with Dark's surprise that he forgot to worry about the kid.

    "Oh," he said. "Well, uhhh... I guess so. Yeah?"

    Dark smiled, sending him a look. "I'm sure he's doing fine," he said. "And besides, he has Host to look after him. Think about it. Are you really a good reporter if you don't make a few people angry with you?"

    Wilford chuckled at that. "You have a point."

    Over that year, while the couple repaired themselves, Jim followed his dream and became a full-time reporter with his own channel. 'The Jim Brothers,' he called it, because even though he was on his own, he'd still achieved both his and his twin brother's dream. Jim did his first major story under his name on Blank's arrest and imprisonment, and from then, the media loved him. When he told Wilford he wanted to travel the world, the mafia boss insisted Host go with him. There was some arguing from Host, at first, but after seeing Jim's puppy face, he was in the clear. The two were in France with Madam Dumont now.

    "Evening, sirs," said their waiter, Eric. "Are you ready for any dessert?"

    Wilford's heart leapt in his throat, and he adjusted his posture and straightened his suit. Dark had no idea how nervous he was for what he was about to do.

    "Yes," said Wilford, covering up his nerves with a smile. "How's chocolate cake sound, darling?"

    "That's fine with me."

    Wilford sent Eric a look, and the waiter smiled, sending him a subtle nod. Everything is ready, his face said.

    Eric headed off, and Wilford quickly glanced over the restaurant, looking through the heads of the other guests. Near the back, he found his sister sipping a martini. The moment he met her eyes and sent her a look, she rolled her eyes with a smile and flashed her phone.

    Wilford cleared his throat and caught Dark's attention.

    "So—Dark..."

    "Yes, dear?"

    Wilford smiled and wrung his hands together under the table, breathing in and out. You got this, he told himself. You got this!

    "It's been a difficult year," he said, wiping his hands off on his legs. "But I've enjoyed every part of it because I was doing it—with you."

    Dark smiled, and he tilted his head, steeling Wilford with a gaze that made him all flustered. "What is this about, Wil?" he teased.

    "Oh, cut me some slack, will you," slurred Wilford, his face burning wild. "Look, I'm not really good when it comes to talking about this lovey-dovey stuff, but..."

    "I'm not either," said Dark reassuringly, setting a hand in the middle of the table.

Wilford met his eyes, startled by his expression, and he wondered then—what was he so worried about? This was Dark. Dark, who had challenged him from the very beginning. Dark, who struggled to show his emotions because he'd suppressed them for so long. Dark, who learned to accept his love for Wilford and did his best to show it when he could.

Dark, who had spent this last year with him, through thick and thin—and even when it was all over, he was still here. Here for Wil.

Wilford softly smiled.

"I've had my fair share of romances," said Wilford. "But I've never felt anything like how I feel with you."

Dark's gaze softened.

"Before I met you, I treated everything without a care," he continued. "I could rob a bank, shoot a guy if I felt like it—"

Dark scoffed with amusement at that, and Wilford smiled, shifting in his seat. He met his eyes.

"The thing is, life didn't have a point when all it was was chaos," said Wil. "I could do whatever I wanted, when I wanted, and—that gets dull after a while." He grabbed Dark's hand and ran his thumb along his knuckles. "But then I met you... and... you changed—everything."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" chuckled Dark.

Wilford smiled and rolled his eyes. The waiter, Eric, exited the kitchen with the plate.

"I've never cared for anyone like I do you, Dark," he said, squeezing his hand. "I always thought that love was just flings and pining across ages, but it's not. And I—I found that with you."

The waiter walked through the tables, and from afar, Wilma stood, pulling out her phone camera and pressing record.

Wilford scooted closer, and he swallowed, his heart beating furiously. This was it.

"When I'm with you," he said softly, "I feel... at home." Dark's smile widened, and he gazed at Wilford with adoration. "I don't care what we go through, or how much time passes, so long as I'm with you. And—I, uh, I don't know if you feel the same... Dark, but I..."

Wilford took a deep breath and exhaled. "But I see a future—with you."

Dark's lashes fluttered, and his face colored a hue.

"I want a future with you," said Wil.

Eric stopped by the table and set the plate down, making sure it faced a certain way. He left without another word, and Wilford gently pulled his hand away from Dark's, gazing at the plate. On Dark's side, he just saw a slice of chocolate cake. On Wilford's side, he saw the diamond ring that he'd chosen a month ago.

Wilford took a deep breath, and he met Dark's eyes, finding them swimming with emotion. He wondered what he was thinking—hoped he felt the same, that he wouldn't reject him.

Wilford carefully turned the plate around, and Dark's eyes landed on the ring, his brows raising high. His mouth carefully fell open, and Wilford took the ring, stood, and bent to a knee in front of Dark. The other guests in the restaurant noticed, and they erupted with surprised chatter and cheers, egging the couple on. Wilma recorded them both with a smile on her face.

"Dark Edwards," said Wilford, offering the ring. "Will you marry me?"

Dark scrambled for words, taking in the sight of Wilford on a knee before him. His heart swelled, and his eyes watered, and with a laugh of disbelief, he said, "Yes." Breathless, at first. "Yes," he said again, overwhelmed with emotion. "Yes, of course I'll marry you, Wilford."

Wilford's face lit up, and he took Dark's hand, beaming up at him. Together, they watched as Wilford slid the ring on Dark's finger, the diamond glinting under the lights.

Yes.

Wilford stood, and once Dark followed suit, Wil pulled him into a hug, breathless. Dark could feel the shakes in his body ease, his nerves subsiding. He couldn't help but chuckle in his ear, holding him tight.

"So that's why you were so nervous," he teased.

"Oh, shut up," said Wilford, laughing. "You can be scary sometimes, you know that?"

Dark pulled away an inch and smiled, taking in Wilford's face.

"So," he said, running his newly-ringed hand along Wilford's face. "Who's taking who's last name?"

Wilford laughed and tipped his head. "We'll leave that up for tonight," he sang.

When they kissed, Dark swore his heart would burst. This, here, with Wilford—this felt right. This time, it felt like a fate sealed for the better. A fate sealed for their future.

A future together.

They still had a long way to go and rebuild themselves. Wilford had slipped once, and people were waiting for it to happen again. That threat would never leave.

"My husband," said Dark fondly, once they pulled away. "I could get used to that."

Wilford blushed red. "Not so fast now, my fiancé," he teased. "We haven't even had a wedding yet."

Whatever came their way, they would deal with it.

Wilford squeezed Dark's hand.

And they would do it together.

...

That's all, my friends... the last chapter of Killshot. HOW ARE YOU FEELING???

I'll post an Afterword very soon <333 So stay tuned for that.

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

Love, Vic xoxo