Slapping his face with vigour, my lips trembling, I beg him with everything I have, “Caleb, wake up, please wake up.” I wipe frantically at my eyes to remove the tears so I don’t lose sight of him. Laying with my ear pressed against his chest, I sob weakly, willing his heart to beat beneath my cheek as I run my fingers through his stubble. Desperate to feel the warmth that dissipates as the seconds tick by.
My heart aches, splintered and forever broken, the silence unbearable.
Sniffling into his shirt, I whisper, praying he hears me, “You can’t leave us here alone. You just can’t.”
EPILOGUE 1
EBONY
The emotional weight of what we had gone through lingered in the days that followed. The pain and grief of everything we had experienced bringing new perspective to our lives.
My wounds had mostly healed now, to the point only a dull ache remained, what’s left of the bruising hidden seamlessly beneath my makeup. Thanks to Jose and his team finding us, there wasn’t much for Detective Turner to accuse us of. The basement was cleaned with industrial bleach, and it was as though it had never been used, let alone been the site of two murders and a holding place for a collection of severed heads. Silas couldn’t investigate a non-crime scene without outing himself to the world as being a conspirator with the Horseman. He valued his freedom above all else which didn’t surprise me. I considered boxing up Matthew’s and Nathaniel’s heads and leaving them on the steps of the precinct, but we needed time to heal before we stoked the fires of another battle.He’d come for us eventually, we were sure of that, but Cooper says we’ll be ready when he does. He stuck to his word, and I have an assortment of new knives displayed in my room back at the apartment, all sharp enough to turn Silas into Swiss cheese.
I place the flowers down, propping them up against the gravestone as I brush the stray leaves away that have fallen from the willow tree that stands tall over it.
A soft press of my lips against the cold stone beaten by the elements at its edges, I stand tall, wiping a tear away from my eye before it has a chance to fall. My heart lurches in my chest, the softened sting of my loss more bearable now, as I turn and walk away.
With everythingthat happened in the basement, I had felt compelled to discover who I really was, who I had been before Nathaniel, Silas, and Matthew had tainted me. Before the brothers had found me and saved me. I’d been harbouring so much hate for the people who had broken me, the people who had made it easier for men like the Turners to treat me the way that they did.
It was easy to bury the memory of my father; Coop had dug around for me, and it was pretty clear he was battling his own demons and a severe psychotic break thanks to his own messed-up childhood. My mother, on the other hand, was an innocent, a woman so turned around by a community she had no chance to escape. I feel closer to her now.
My phone on the desk rings, dragging me from my thoughts, a smile lighting my face when I see who’s calling.
“Well, well, well. So you haven’t forgotten how to use a phone,” I chime as I accept the video call, and Megan’s face fills the screen.
“I’ve been busy recovering,” she snaps back with a smile that says more than words ever could. I note the reddening of Jose’s cheeks behind her. Jose wasn’t just an expert crime scene cleaner, a car aficionado, or capable with tattoo gun. He’s also pretty fucking handy with a medical kit. I never knew that motorcycle clubs each had their own‘doctor’—someone on hand who is good with patching up the members.He knew what to do the second he had untied Megan. It was hit and miss for a while there, and no-one would tell me where he had taken her, but she had recovered under the watchful eye of the biker gang and found a place she decided she’d like to call home. She had opted to use her close encounter to her advantage, and Megan is now officially a missing person. She had gotten the fresh start she’d always wanted. She had been super secretive about where she was and the part she played in the gang, but none of that mattered because on the occasions she called me, she looked genuinely happy.
“Is everyone good?” she asks solemnly, swiping the curls whipping her face over her shoulder. “What about Caleb?”
“Well, he’s never happy. I’ve told him to get a plumber in.But he’s being obtuse,” I yell with a grin plastered on my face.
Caleb sticks his head out of the kitchen area. “We don’t need a fucking plumber,” he retorts.
“We need a fucking plumber,” Cooper and I protest in unison, laughing heartily as Caleb rolls his eyes behind me and selects a new tool from his bag.
“I’ll eat my knickers if that man knows what that tool is for,” I state into the camera, and Megan snorts.
“You’ll be doing that regardless, Dove. We don’t need the neighbours calling in a noise complaint again.” My cheeks flush, and it only makes Megan laugh harder.
“Look who grew into a screamer; I’m so proud,” Megan coos like an overprotective mamma bird watching her child soar around the mainland for the first time.
“Dial down the mum vibe.”
“Can’t, sorry—I haven’t seen your face in the flesh for two months; we need to catch up. I’m surrounded by biker men oozing testosterone.”
“You not liking it?” I press as I tuck my legs up under myself and swivel in the chair.
“I’m liking it fine. I’ve taken a leaf out of your brother husband’s guide to polyamory. Did I mention Jose has a brother?” She grins wide, alerting me to the fact that she’s likely already fucked these men. She may be prim and proper at her core, but our girl leaned in to her promiscuous title, and I couldn’t be happier for her. Until the brothers came back into my life, I hadn’t realised how well three people could get along and share with each other. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Being the meat to a Knox brother sandwich is the only place I want to be. Living life to the fullest, pastrami-style.
“Did you visit your mum?” she adds, slipping out of horny mode into caring best friend mode seamlessly.
“I did. She’s good. She says hi.” I laugh. I’ve beenvisiting my mother’s grave every Sunday, and it has definitely helped the healing process.
“Very funny. I’m sure she would have loved me.” She almost trips over her own feet as she says it and drops the phone in the dirt. Picking it back up and propping it up on a rock, I get a better view of her surroundings.
“I never pegged you for a willing trekker.” The dirt hills that appear to stretch on for miles behind her and the tumbleweeds around her feet tells me she’s definitely not in Grimmville anymore. Her vest, cargo shorts, and black desert boots ensemble is begging me to make aDora the Explorerjoke at her expense, but I hold my tongue.
“Let’s just say this barren patch of land after sundown is a perfect place to get rid of rubbish.”
