Epilogue
AXEL
Two Years Later
Upping the speed on the treadmill, I push myself into a full run, sweat dripping from my chin. I relish in the feeling of my lungs expanding, banishing Doc Marcus’ voice from my head with each step. I’m at the peak height of physical fitness without a trace of asthma in sight. Mind over matter, and all that. My muscles burn more intensely with each heavy pound of my sneakers on the rubber, my mind clearing of all thought, and my eyes trained on the horizon.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the skyline stretches endlessly as the city landscape twinkles like stars trapped behind the glass. Below, the streets are thrumming with life, even at this hour.
Wyatt and I moved into the penthouse two weeks ago, overseeing the renovations and ensuring everything was ready. Some of the home comforts we’ve been spoiled with at the manor have filtered into the decor, given that Rachel has her own apartment on the floor below and she can’t help herself from making suggestions. She decided a while back that her manor held too many memories and it was time for her to move on, but Wyatt wouldn’t let her go far. I reckon she’ll be in our gourmet kitchen more often than not .
My phone pings through my headphones, disrupting the music I was vibing to. Not that I care when the notification lighting up the screen is Dax from our group chat, informing us they will be arriving in around twenty minutes. I exit the home gym, wiping the sweat from my head with a small hand towel.
Passing Wyatt in the art-lined hallway, I tell him to get the wine ready before climbing the spiral staircase to our open-plan bedroom. One huge space with a custom-made bed and separate walk-in wardrobes for each of us. A photo frame sits on the bedside table, an old image of Avery and Meg hugging and smiling behind the glass. A bittersweet pang tugs at my heart, but I know Avery will appreciate the gesture. We need to hold our memories close to remember how and why we’re here, and what we have to live for.
The connecting bathroom is just as lavish, with a jacuzzi bathtub fit for six in the far corner. I shower quickly, pausing in the mirror whilst drying off. A satisfied smile grows across my face, the man staring back at me, one that I’m finally happy to accept. My head is freshly shaven, and my hazel eyes are no longer shadowed by exhaustion. My shoulders appear broader now that the constant pressure and unbearable guilt have lifted, leaving me standing taller than I ever have.
I run a hand over my chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm, the rhythm of a heart that no longer feels like an anchor. Therapy has been brutal. An unrelenting occurrence tearing me open and forcing me to face the things I had buried deep. To confront the death of someone who was supposed to have been my mother but never acted like it. To accept the abuse I’ve suffered and understand that it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me a survivor.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Hurry up, Axe,” Wyatt calls through the wood. “They’re almost here.” I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I exit, a towel pinned around my waist.
Nothing has changed in Wyatt’s stalking ways, but at least he uses an app to do it now. Avery had the chip removed from her neck before she returned to Waversea, cutting ties from his obsessive, toxic behavior and encouraging him to try a different approach. One we all consented to beforehand.
Once back in the bedroom, I pull on a black T-shirt, the fabric stretching over muscle that wasn’t there before. I clip Avery’s compass bracelet around my wrist, knowing I should have given it back a long time ago, but its weight feels like having a part of her with me at all times, even when the distance between us is vast. After tugging on some dark jeans, I find Wyatt pacing near the kitchen island, rolling his shoulders. He’s gone a step more formal, a white shirt collar parallel to the sharp line of his jaw. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his navy slacks, his dress shoes make a clipped sound against the marble floor.
“Relax, man,” I tell him. “Everything’s perfect, and she wouldn’t care even if it wasn’t.”
“I know that,” Wyatt sighs, shaking some of his nervous energy. Planting his hands on the islands, I watch him make a conscious effort to calm his jittering. His hair has grown out and is no longer forced into submission with products, the brown strands falling around his face. Those green eyes, though, haven’t lost their edge one bit.
Handing him a wine glass, he accepts it and clinks mine, sipping in silence. I feel the same anticipation curling through my gut, a sharp-edged thrill at the thought of everyone being under the same roof again. Everything is set. Three bottles of wine are breathing on the counter, the scent of garlic and rosemary still hanging in the air from the meal Rachel helped us prepare earlier. Candles flicker in glass holders on the dining table, and a ridiculous amount of flowers take up nearly every available surface.
“One bouquet would have sufficed,” I offer, eyeing the various colors. Wyatt snorts, his meaning loud and clear.
Avery deserves every flower under the sun, and I’m going to give it to her.
Anyone who thought Wyatt and Avery’s feelings were a passing fad was quickly proven wrong. For the past two years, we’ve all eaten dinner together over video call, sent care packages, and visited during the holidays, but those two are in constant communication.
Where the others get her on a physical and comfort level, Wyatt gets her mind. They’re on the phone for hours, sometimes all the way through until morning. Any achievement, any inconvenience, or triggering counseling session, she’s straight onto the phone, needing Wyatt’s opinion. Wanting him to console her. In all of the years I’ve known him previously, I’ve never heard Wyatt just talk and open up and be so honest. I suppose they have a lot of missed time to make up for .
I, on the other hand, received what I needed. Space. I know it hasn’t been easy on Garrett, and at the end of each visit, we have the same argument. Why can’t you come with us? When will you be ready for me to love you? But he understands, truly, even if he doesn’t like it.
Sipping my wine, the crispy liquid easing down my throat, I wonder how I’m going to put into words that I’m finally ready. I’m finally the man I want to be for him. For Avery. For myself.
A buzz sounds through the penthouse, resonating from the elevator. Wyatt and I exchange a look before he strides to the control panel and grants access. A moment later, the doors slide open. My smile couldn’t stretch any further.
Between the bundle of suitcases, Avery stands tall and proud amongst her men. She’s cut her hair to just below her shoulders and recently had her outgrown brunette roots merged into the blonde tones further down. She’s wrapped in one of her oversized sweaters, a box of books in her hands. Her eyes sweep over the space, taking in the high ceilings, the open-plan layout, and of course, the flowers.
Dax is the first one off, dragging two duffel bags behind him, his grin wide and easy. “Home sweet home!” Huxley steps out next, rolling his suitcase, his lips twitching. Garrett follows, balancing a box labeled ‘ Shit I Probably Don’t Need’. His dark eyes settle on me instantly, like a laser beam spearing straight through to my heart. He looks over my bulkier physique, one that rivals Huxley’s now, and curses beneath his breath.
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
I smirk, closing the distance between us to take his box and set it aside. He’s in my arms in the next second, arms banded around me like he never wants to let go. I nudge my cheek against his, peppering his face and neck with light kisses. It’s so good to have him like this again, knowing I don’t have to say goodbye anymore. Pulling himself back before we get carried away, Gare twists back to face the elevator, still bundled in my arms.
Avery exhales a breathless laugh, last to enter. “Holy shit. This is incredible. And… it’s ours ,” she beams at the five of us staring at her like she’s the center of our universe, and she is. Wyatt, who had been frozen at the sight of her, finally moves. He strides toward her, his hands settling on her waist, and dips down to press a kiss to her forehead .
“Welcome home, Angel.” Her blue eyes flick to mine over his shoulder, and I smile.
“Feel free to put your womanly touch on it. But maybe ask Rachel for advice here and there. She’s not stopped saying how excited she is to have a daughter.” Warmth blossoms in both Wyatt’s and Avery’s eyes, and they step aside, needing a moment in private. Dax and Hux take themselves on a tour while I tug Garrett along and guide him towards the wine. Accepting a glass and downing it in one, Gare proceeds to throw himself on a large sofa facing a roaring fire and the city rooftops beyond.
“I can’t believe we’ve finally graduated. I thought we were gonna be in that school forever .” I snort, resting against the back of the sofa.
“I know,” I exhale, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. “Feels surreal that we’re all together again.”
For a short while in the middle somewhere, when the calls were streaming in about how Garrett and Huxley were constantly bickering and forcing Avery to act as their mediator on a regular basis, I didn’t think we’d get to this point either. After pushing him away time and again, I was on edge, waiting for the news that he’d done something reckless, whether it was to drink himself stupid, get arrested, or go on a sex spree with half of Waversea. But he surprised us all, reigning it back in and focusing his energy on the basketball team he became captain of, in Wyatt’s absence.
Garrett stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of tattooed skin. “You’re lucky I came at all,” he smirks at me. “You know how I feel about therapists. But I figured as least you can fuck my body whilst raping my mind, and I couldn’t miss the chance to call you Professor Axel.”
I snort, ignoring the rest of that sentence. “I won’t be a professor for a long time yet.” Eventually, though, that is the goal. The last two years have been about personal growth and not just the physical kind. Through healing and pushing myself towards meaningful, I took every online class I could, chased every credit, and now I have my degree in psychology. But I’m not stopping there.
“I’ve been thinking about taking it further,” I admit, swirling my wine glass. “I want to focus on creative therapy. Helping people work through trauma in ways that feel natural to them. Art, music, dance. Maybe even something more experimental.” Garrett raises a brow, and his smirk widens.
“Something like nude still life drawing? Because that’s something I can totally help with.” He starts tugging off his T-shirt, and I reach out to stop him. Since working through his self-consciousness, Garrett has become a nudist for the most part. I rarely get a photo with his clothes on these days, ever since Avery convinced him to do a meditation course called ‘ Embrace your Body .’ It was a bunch of hippies hugging trees and swinging their dicks in the wind, and he loved every second of it.
“You’re gonna be too busy playing basketball, Mr. Hotshot.” I wiggle my eyebrows, still holding the hem of his T-shirt down by his waistband. Garrett’s smug grin doesn’t falter.
“Still got time to model for you,” he winks. I roll my eyes, but there’s pride swarming in my chest. We had no idea what Garrett would do when he came upstate until a few weeks ago, an agent saw him play and offered him a contract. He’s worked so hard, invested so much time in bettering himself, and now he’s about to go pro. Dax joins us, making a choked sound at the sight of me grappling to keep Garrett from removing his top.
“At least wait until after dinner before you start stripping off,” Dax chimes in, dropping onto the couch beside him. My Brazilian friend has also let his hair grow out, a wild blond afro spilling from the top of his head and hanging past his shoulders in a mix of tiny ringlets and unruly waves. It suits him, as does the relaxed smile on his face. He looks at home here, his arm slung over the back of the couch and his body stretched out loosely.
Dax didn’t return to Waversea in the same capacity as the others, since his scholarship was revoked and he didn’t feel like jumping through hoops to get it back. Instead, he took up a biomedical engineering apprenticeship at a nearby facility, using the frat house as his base, and after working his ass off, has landed a real job in the city below us.
“You excited to start at the lab on Monday?” I ask him, sipping the rest of my wine and setting the glass on the coffee table. Garrett nudges up to make room for me to sit and curls himself around me. Dax is still grinning .
“Just excited to finally be living. Feels like we’ve all managed to get our shit together.” Huxley scoffs, strolling into the room.
“Some more than others,” he narrows his eyes at Garrett, who in turn flips him off. I laugh, my gaze settling on Huxley as he moves to stand near the windows, silhouetted against the city. It doesn’t take long for Wyatt to filter in and stand at his side, the pair muttering in hushed whispers.
They’ve been working on their plans to start up a charity together for months, putting their business degrees and money to good use. The concept is to give kids a way to escape dangerous homes and start over, no matter what background they’ve come from. Rich, poor, abused, manipulated. They will all be saved and placed with well-vetted, loving families, receiving the best care both through court cases and afterward.
Wyatt nods as he talks, his sharp green eyes flicking to his new partner. Huxley crosses his arms, a satisfied glint in his gaze. I reckon Wyatt is filling him in about a call he took earlier, setting up a meeting with some potential solicitors who are interested in joining.
Avery steps into the room, tucking her hair behind her ear. The light seems to radiate around her, shining like a halo and filling the space with the warmth it was missing. She may have only just arrived, but she effortlessly belongs. The thought fills me with satisfaction. After everything—after the fights, the bruises, the nights spent wondering if we’d make it to morning—we've made it. We built something better. Something that’s ours. We’ve found our home.
Her eyes snag on the fireplace and for a moment, her smile falters. Wyatt notices too, swiftly stepping in to guide her closer. On the mantelpiece, a thin vase holds the only flower in the entire penthouse which won’t wilt and die. Afterall, Wyatt spent the best part of three days building the yellow rose out of lego. Confusion flickers between Avery’s brows and Wyatt takes her hands.
“If you want me to get rid of it, I will. But it’s taken me two years to come to terms with what was done to us, and this is my way of making peace with the past. For Cathy and Nixon, and even Fredrick. They manipulated us, molded us, lied to us, but they also brought us together. They brought me to you.”
Avery is speechless, her eyes flicking between Wyatt and the flower, until she throws herself at him. Her arms wind around his neck, her lips crashing against his. Wyatt catches her effortlessly, his hands gripping her waist as if he never intends to let go. Their mouths move in perfect sync. Hungry and desperate, years of tension unraveling in a single kiss. Avery clings to him, pressing closer, her fingers tangling in his hair. A low sound rumbles in Wyatt’s throat, his grip tightening as he steals her breath, owning every inch of her.
I turn my attention back to Garrett, stroking his neck with a coy smile. This feels right, all of us here. No one has to hide how they feel in this penthouse; it’s our space to be free.
Contrary to expectation, Wyatt didn’t make it his mission to reveal Nixon’s secrets. He didn’t burn Avery’s adoption certificate or run to the media about their relationship. After long reflection, Wyatt decided to turn Hughes manor into a museum. Cathy’s film career is immortalized in those walls, her awards and memorabilia on full display. Somehow, he decided it’s what the Hughes would have wanted. Nixon and Cathy worked so hard to create the illusion of their reputation, and in death, it made sense to give it to them. To let the world believe the show they put on. All of the ticket proceeds go to charity.
I, on the other hand, sold my childhood mansion the second the deed was put into my name, making sure Richard didn’t get a cent. Sharon’s death was ruled an accident, but unfortunately that didn’t put an end to the auctions. Last I heard, Top Knot Taylor had taken the role as head organizer, using his experience and connections with the clients to run them elsewhere. As long as everyone is consenting and fully aware of what they’re getting into, it’s not my concern anymore.
Remembering the rest of us are here, Avery extracts herself from Wyatt’s hold. He tenses, contemplating whether to let her go but relents eventually. Brushing her lips, there’s a gleam in Avery’s blue eyes, something playful about the way she twirls with her hair. Sliding her feet over the marble floor, Avery accentuates her long legs past the sofa and towards the staircase.
Her body hasn’t changed over the years, but she appears stronger. Every movement is calculated and well placed, her posture putting the most experienced models to shame. That’s why she’s been given a place at the Royal Juliet Dance School a few blocks away. It’s the best in the city, a place that will push her harder than ever. But she’s ready.
I’ve been to every one of her performances, whether for the Waversea showcases or an external competition. Somewhere in the bags, her small collection of medals is ever-growing, quickly boosting her into a career she never thought achievable.
When I blink back to reality, I find her halfway up the stairs, her fingers trailing the golden banister.
“I hope you all don’t mind if I skip dinner. I’m just going to make myself comfortable and wait for whoever is planning to eat me instead.” The room stills on a sharp inhale, and then we’re all moving, scrambling towards the staircase. Avery squeals and runs the rest of the way upstairs while we fight it out just below.
Wyatt somehow flies across the room and gets to the first step, but we’re right on his heels. Garrett snatches the back of his white shirt, yanking him hard enough that he staggers back, cursing under his breath. I take my chance, gripping Garrett’s shoulder to shove him back too, but Dax, the sneaky bastard, grabs the waistband of my jeans and hauls me down a step. Wyatt recovers fast, shouldering into Dax, so he almost eats the marble floor. Huxley comes in like a damn linebacker, bulldozing through us all, his muscled legs giving him an unfair advantage.
"Not happening, assholes," he grunts, powering forward. Garrett hooks an arm around Huxley’s waist, dragging him backward as he lunges forward at the same time. I manage to mostly avoid the tangle of limbs, dancing around the grunts and curses that follow. Hands grab at shirts, belts, anything to slow the others down.
Wyatt nearly makes it, his fingers grazing the gold railing before Dax lunges and locks an arm around his middle, sending them both crashing back into Hux. They go down hard. Garrett stumbles over them, a hand launching out of the mass to grab his ankle and take him down too. I’m left laughing as I sidestep the pile of bodies.
A giggle echoes from above, where Avery is perched at the top of the stairs with her knees bent up to her chest. I fly up the steps, grabbing her hand and launching her to her feet in one smooth move. Avery yelps as I scoop her up, throwing her over my shoulder like she weighs nothing. Her fists drum against my back, laughter bubbling up between her half-hearted protests.
“Axel!” she squeaks, wriggling in my hold.
“Should’ve thought about the consequences before teasing us like that, Swan,” I rumble, striding toward the bedroom. Behind us, the others are groaning, still tangled in their pile at the bottom of the stairs. Their curses and threats echo through the penthouse, but I ignore them, focused solely on the woman in my arms.
The back wall of the bedroom is made completely of glass, fitted with blackout blinds that start to lower by the push of a button, blocking out the city lights. In its place, I flick on softer lights trailing the edge of the ceiling, casting long shadows over the luxurious bedding. Avery gasps when I toss her onto the mattress, her blonde waves fanning out as she bounces slightly, her sweater slipping off one shoulder.
She props herself up on her elbows, watching me with wide, heated eyes as I crawl over her, pressing her into the plush covers. My fingers trail up her thigh, pushing the fabric of her sweater higher, exposing the flawless skin on her stomach beneath. I’ve been waiting too long to do this—to have her in a space that belongs to the Souls, a place where she can be treated like the queen she is.
“You wanted this, little minx,” I murmur, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “All of us fighting over you, turning us feral with that naughty little stunt you just pulled.” Her breath hitches, confirming my suspicions. I lean down, capturing her mouth in a slow, teasing kiss, coaxing a soft whimper from her pliant mouth. She arches into me, fingers gripping my shoulders, nails biting through my shirt.
A scuffle sounds behind us, the mattress dipping in various places.
“I let you win that one, Axe,” Huxley grumbles.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dax mutters sarcastically, his attention distracted by Avery panting beneath me. He strokes her hair out of her face and trails a finger along her throat.
“Turns out Axel has found a selfish streak while we’ve been away. I wonder how Wyatt feels about that.” Garrett’s grin is all mischief as he falls onto the bed beside us. Wyatt is the last to approach. His green eyes burn as he slowly stalks forward, rolling up his sleeves.
“I’ll forgive him,” he murmurs, “if he moves over.” Avery’s whimper is drowned out by Garrett’s.
“I’ve had a wet dream just like this for soooo long,” he groans, biting his lip. I smirk but shift back slightly, allowing Avery the space to sit up, though she doesn’t get far before Garrett catches her chin between his fingers, tilting her face toward him. His lips ghost over hers, teasing, before he claims her in a deep, slow kiss that has her melting against him.
Huxley kneels behind her, his fingers slipping into her hair, tilting her head slightly to press his lips to the exposed curve of her throat. Dax slides his hands beneath her sweater; his fingers drag slow, torturous lines over her bare skin. I watch her shudder, watch the way her breath hitches when he presses a kiss to her neck, his teeth scraping just slightly. She lets out a quiet moan, her body supple, lost in the heat of their touch.
Wyatt settles beside me, watching with darkened eyes, his thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. “I hope you know what you’ve started, Angel. We’re extremely pent-up and aching for you. There’s no telling what can happen.” He says slowly, directing his words to Avery. She pulls back from Garrett just enough to catch Wyatt’s gaze, her lips kiss-swollen and pink. She releases a sultry smile, her eyelids already hooded with desire.
“I guess we’re about to find out.”