21. Epilogue
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Somewhere in a secluded spot in Alabama.
The sun was a damn furnace in the sky, but the cool breeze off the ocean made it bearable. Sand clung to my feet, and I stretched out, feeling like a king in this slice of paradise. Adam was beside me, his laughter a low rumble against the loud crash of waves.
"Can you believe this shit?" I said, squinting at the horizon where the sea met the sky in an endless kiss. "From blood-stained streets to sipping coconut water with our toes in the sand."
"Never thought we'd make it, did ya?" Adam flicked a glance at me, his grin all teeth and triumph.
I stole a look at Belle and Ella, who were a wild splash of color against the blue canvas of the sea.
Belle's laughter carried over the water, pure and unguarded. She chased Ella, her hair whipping behind her like a banner. Ella’s shrieks of delight cut through the air. They danced at the water's edge, dodging the foamy residue as they splashed each other.
"Look at 'em, Chris. They're somethin' else." Adam's voice took on a rare note of reverence.
"Like fucking phoenixes rising from the ashes," I said, watching as Ella threw her head back, the sun turning her blonde hair to a halo of fire. Her skin had tanned and she had become relaxed; her laughter was a melody that could almost drown out the ghosts of gunshots and screams.
"Remember when they first came into our world? How broken everything seemed?" Adam shook his head, as if to dislodge the memories. "Now, just look."
"Times change, people change," I grunted, acknowledging the truth in his words. Our hands had been stained with the same blood once, but here we were, two bastards trying on halos, playing house.
"Never thought I'd see you go soft, Chris," Adam teased, nudging me with his elbow.
"Soft?" I barked a laugh. "Just adapting to thrive, brother. Nothing soft about that."
"Surviving's one thing," he mused. "But living—really living with these women—that's something else."
"Damn right." I watched as Ella spun, arms wide, embracing the freedom we never knew was possible. Belle caught her and together, they collapsed onto the sand in a fit of laughter.
"Let's keep it that way," I said, the weight of my old life—a life of orders, hits, and cold-blooded decisions—lifted with each breath of salt-scented air.
"We will," Adam agreed, and there was a promise in that, a vow forged in the fires of hell we'd walked through.
We'd lived by the code, but now, the only code we had was keeping our life safe. Happy. The island was our sanctuary, a place where the darkness of our past couldn't reach us, couldn't touch the women who'd become our redemption.
"Come on, let's rustle up some grub for the ladies," I stood, brushing sand from my shorts. "Bet they're starving after all that frolicking."
"Lead the way, Chef Charming," Adam quipped, getting to his feet.
"Fuck off," I shot back with a smirk, but inside, warmth spread through my chest. This was peace. This was love. This was something worth fighting to keep.
We strode across the sand, two men who had walked through fire and come out the other side, not unscathed, but alive. Alive and fucking determined to never slip back into the darkness that once claimed us. This island, this peace—it was ours, and I'd be damned if anything threatened it.
The sun dipped low, setting the sky ablaze in shades of orange and crimson. A breeze carried the scent of salt and charred meat as Adam and I manned the grill like a couple of domesticated warlords turning our blades to spatulas.
"Shit, man, remember when our biggest worry was whether the feds had us on wiretap?" Adam flipped a burger, the sizzle cutting through the quiet hum of the waves.
"Fuck that noise," I grunted, spearing a slab of steak and feeling the juice dribble down my wrist. "This is the life. No more looking over our shoulders."
"Damn straight." Adam clinked his beer bottle against mine, the clank as satisfying as a bullet casing hitting concrete. We shared a nod, a silent oath to the lives we'd clawed outta the dirt.
"Food's about ready," I called over to the beach where Belle and Ella laid, soaking up the last rays of daylight.
Ella rose, her smile cutting through the encroaching dusk. The sight of her like that, free as the gulls overhead, it did something fierce to my insides.
Grains of sand clung to my feet, remnants of a perfect day as I trailed behind Chris toward the makeshift dining area. My heart swelled, a balloon fit to burst with gratitude.
"Never thought I'd say this, but your cooking might just be better than your right hook," I teased him, watching those blue eyes of his light up with that challenge I loved so much.
"Only thing I do better is love you," he shot back, rough around the edges but soft where it mattered.
"Ah, you two are giving me diabetes with all this sweetness," Belle quipped from beside Adam, but her laughter said she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Sit down, babe, let the men work." Chris winked at me, a glint of the bad boy I'd fallen for, now playing house.
We gathered around the table, an ensemble of survivors feasting not just on grilled delights, but on the second chance we'd snatched from fate's clutches.
"Here's to freedom," I whispered into Chris's ear as we ate, his arm a fortress around my shoulders.
"Here's to us," he murmured back, the promise in his voice as binding as any blood oath he once swore.
Night descended as we said our goodnights. The air was still warm, balmy breezes whispering secrets of the night to come. In our beachside haven, I stole into the bedroom we shared, a room scented with sea salt and filled with love. Pictures of us filled every wall. I smiled, tracing the outline of the first photo Chris agreed to let me take of us. It was the day after we burned the mansion to the ground.
I stood in front of the mirror, my fingers trailing over the silk and lace of the negligee that clung to my skin. It was black and it made my eyes smolder with promises. Twisting a lock of blonde hair around my finger, I felt the pulse of anticipation. My breath hitched, imagining the look on Chris’s face when he'd see me, all dolled up for him, all his.
"Damn, Ella," I whispered to my reflection, "you're playing with fire."
The door creaked open, and there he was, standing like some god of war turned lover. Ever the hardened Prince of Darkness, but the moment he saw me, he became like putty. His gaze roamed over me, darkening with desire. He didn't need to say a word; his eyes did all the talking.
"Fuck, babe," he rasped. "You’re hell-bent on killing me, aren't you?"
I stepped toward him, the silk whispering against my thighs. "Only if you die happy," I shot back, my heart thumping wild rhythms against my ribs.
He closed the distance in two strides, his hands finding the curves of my hips, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body seared through the thin fabric.
"Happy?" His chuckle was low, dangerous. "You have no idea, little ember."
His lips crashed onto mine, a storm of passion that swept me into the depths of his love. I moaned into his mouth, a sound swallowed by his own fervor. His fingers traced the outline of the lace that barely contained me, his touch leaving trails of fire. I arched into him, craving more, craving everything.
"Chris," I breathed, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him.
"Say it again." His command was rough, threaded with an edge of desperation.
"Chris!" I gasped, giving him what he wanted, what we both needed.
He spun me around, pressing my back to his chest, his breath hot against my neck. His hand slipped beneath the delicate fabric, his touch a brand that marked me to my very soul.
"Mine," he rasped, a possessive growl that resonated deep within my bones.
"Yours," I agreed, because in this moment, in this embrace, there was no doubt. We were two halves of a whole, forged in shadow and flame.
And as the night claimed us, our bodies entwined in a dance of love and lust, we had carved out our own slice of heaven.