Damien was charged with first-degree murder for killing my biological father six years ago, attempted murder for shooting me, and obstruction of justice for fabricating evidence that led to my mother’s wrongful imprisonment.
California doesn’t have the death penalty anymore, but he got life without parole.
No appeal. No second chances. No getting out.
He’s gone.
For good.
I didn’t attend the sentencing. I didn’t need to. Marcus called with the news, and that was enough.
My mom went. She said she needed to see it with her own eyes. She said she needed to watch him get what he deserved.
She came back lighter, freer, and glad it’s finally over.
And it is.
Now I’m standing in my new kitchen—our new kitchen—making coffee on a Saturday morning while sunlight streams through the windows.
The house is bigger than the old one. Four bedrooms. Two bathrooms. A backyard with a fence. There’s room for all of us to spread out without tripping over each other.
Jax, Zephyr, Callum, and I live here. All together. Finally.
My mom and Zinnia live down the street. Three houses over. Close enough to walk but far enough for privacy.
It’s perfect.
I hear footsteps behind me, and then arms wrap around my waist.
“Morning,” Jax murmurs against my neck.
“Morning.”
“You sleep okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Better now.”
I lean back into him and close my eyes, feeling his warmth.
The coffee finishes brewing, so I pour two cups and hand him one.
“Zephyr still asleep?” I ask.
“Yeah. He was up late studying.”
“Finals?”
“Yeah. Last ones before graduation.”
Graduation. The word still feels surreal. They’re all graduating in two weeks. Moving on to whatever comes next.
Zephyr’s going to grad school. Sports psychology. He’s already accepted to USC.
Jax has options. A scout’s coming to meet with him next week. He wants to talk about going pro. Minor leagues first, probably, but it’s a shot.
Callum’s fielding offers too. Agents are calling and teams are interested.
