Knox shakes his head, pulling a sleek pistol from his jacket.
“No,” Knox smirks. “This one’smine.”
My arm’s bleeding, pain throbbing, but I hold my ground, staring him down. Knox is lining up the shot, his finger on thetrigger, when a crack splits the air—sniper fire, precise and deadly, dropping two of the cartel men in an instant.
Cole and Max, right on time, perched on the parking lot roof across the street.
Chaos erupts, the remaining goons scrambling for cover, firing wildly.
I seize the moment, my Glock roaring as I take out another, his body crumpling. The last one bolts, but another sniper shot catches him, and he’s down.
It’s just me and Knox now, face to face, the rooftop a graveyard.
“Surrender,” I growl, my gun trained on his chest. “It’s over.”
Knox sneers, firing, but I’m faster, my shot punching through his heart. Knox staggers, his pistol falling, and collapses, his eyes blank.
It’s done.
Miles runs to me, his arms wrapping around me, his voice breaking.
“I love you, Daddy,” Miles sobs with joy. “Forever.”
He’s trembling, tears streaking his face, but his fire’s still there, burning bright.
I pull Miles close, ignoring the pain in my arm, my lips finding hers in a fierce, desperate kiss.
“Forever, Little,” I whisper, my heart full despite the blood and chaos. I look toward the parking lot roof, where Cole and Max’s silhouettes are barely visible, and shout, my joker side kicking in to full effect, “What took you so long, you chumps?”
“You really are the joker, aren’t you?” Miles giggles as we hold each other, the city sprawling below, the mission over, our love sealed in blood and fire.
The bar’s warm glow wraps around us like a blanket, the low hum of upbeat jazz mingling with the clink of glasses and laughter.
It’s late, the kind of evening where the world feels softer, safer, even after the chaos of the day.
My arm’s bandaged, the graze from the cartel’s bullet stitched and patched by the Guard’s doctor, a grizzled vet who grumbled about my recklessness but got the job done. The pain’s a dull throb now, dulled further by the whisky in my hand and Miles’ warmth beside me.
We’re at a long oak table in the back of the bar, a regular haunt we’ve claimed as ours, all dark wood and neon signs, the air thick with cigar smoke and camaraderie.
Cole and Max are here, their boys—Richie and Billie—curled up beside them, sipping colorful cocktails from sippy cups, their eyes bright against the bar’s dim vibe. Henry and Connor are with us too, their Forever Loves—Bodie and Luke—giggling over a shared plate of nachos.
The spirits are high, the weight of the rooftop fight, Knox’s death, and the cartel’s defeat lifting like fog.
Miles is tucked against my side, his head resting on my shoulder, Bean perched on the table beside his empty milkshakeglass. His star-patterned hoodie hides the tracker I insisted he keep for now, just in case Los Lobos has any lingering muscle.
The boy’s hand in mine, his fingers tracing circles on my palm, and every touch sends a spark through me. The flash drive’s intel—now fully decoded—nailed Knox’s operation, linking him to millions in cartel money through Obsidian Ventures.
With Knox gone, the Guard’s one step closer to dismantling the new Los Lobos, and Miles is safe, his death threat buried with Knox’s body.
But the cost was high—going rogue, defying Mr. G’s orders…
I lean back, sipping my whisky, letting loose to lighten the mood.
“Well, boys, guess I’ll be pulling latrine duty from now till the end of time,” I say, grinning. “Mr. G’s gonna have me on the worst missions for screwing with his plan.”
The table erupts in laughter, Cole’s sharp chuckle cutting through, Max’s deep rumble joining in.
“You’re damn lucky you’re still breathing, man,” Cole says, raising his glass. “Going all Rambo on that rooftop?Ballsy.”
