Epilogue 1 - Cash #2
Emma is ours. Summit’s about to learn what that means.
“Stay at the airport. Check every fucking terminal. I’m calling her now.” He hangs up and immediately dials, pressing the phone hard against his ear.
“Come on, baby girl. Pick up. Please, Emma, pick up.” Stone’s face crumbles as the call goes to voicemail. He tries again. And again. Each time—Emma’s voicemail, her cheerful voice asking him to leave a message.
“Fuck.” He slams his hand against the doorframe hard enough that dust rains down. “She’s not answering.”
Mercy’s grip tightens. The festive atmosphere evaporates as someone cuts the music. Tank steps forward, all business.
“When was the last time anyone heard from her?”
Stone’s fingers fly over his phone. “She texted before she boarded. Said she’d see me in a few hours.” He looks up. I’ve never seen him this scared—not during raids, not when Summit threatened us. Not ever. “She should fucking be here.”
“Maybe her phone died,” Ginger suggests uncertainly. “Or maybe she missed her boarding call?”
“Then she’d call.” Stone’s heading for his office. “I’m checking her location. Everyone else, start making calls. Anyone who might know something.”
I’m up before I realize I’m moving, Mercy right beside me. The clubhouse explodes into action—brothers pulling out phones, Maggie on her laptop pulling up flight information, Duck barking orders.
Stone emerges, face ashen. “Her phone’s off. Location services aren’t showing anything.”
“What about SnapMaps?” Kya asks. “Or that app you made her download for emergencies?”
“Nothing. Everything’s dark.” Stone runs his hand through his hair. For the first time, he looks lost.
I’ve seen Stone face down corrupt cops, rival MCs, Summit’s harassment without breaking a sweat. But right now, he looks like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.
“I’m going to New York.” Stone’s grabbing his cut. “Right fucking now.”
“Stone, wait.” Axel steps forward. “Think for a second.”
“Get out of my way.”
“No.” Axel doesn’t budge. Nobody tells Stone no. Nobody. “You running off half-cocked isn’t going to help Emma. We need a plan.”
Stone’s fists clench. For a second, I think he’s going to swing. Then his shoulders sag. “She’s my baby girl, Axel.”
“I know.” Axel’s voice gentles. “That’s why we’re going to do this right. Let me call my father.”
The room goes still. Axel never talks about his senator dad, never uses those connections.
“He owes me,” Axel continues. “He can get federal resources involved. FBI, marshals, whatever we need.”
Stone nods, some wildness leaving his eyes. “Do it. And someone get Josie on the phone. Tell her.”
“Already texting her,” Kya says, fingers flying.
“We checked with the airline,” Ginger calls out. “She definitely boarded in New York. But somewhere between takeoff and landing, she disappeared.”
“How the fuck does someone disappear from a plane?” Duck demands.
“They don’t,” Stone says quietly. “Someone was waiting when she landed.”
His phone rings. He looks at the screen, face going white.
“Unknown number.”
“Put it on speaker. Record it.”
Stone hits speaker. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Armstrong.” The voice is smooth, cultured, unfamiliar. “I believe you’re looking for someone.”
Stone goes rigid. “Where is she?”
“Safe. For now.”
“You fucking—”
“I’d be very careful with your next words, Mr. Armstrong. Your daughter’s ability to dance again depends on your cooperation.”
Stone’s jaw works. When he speaks, his voice is ice. “What do you want?”
“Simple. All evidence related to our recent... misunderstandings. Security footage, documents, anything you might have shared with law enforcement. Witnesses need to recant. You have twenty-four hours.”
“I want proof she’s OK or you get nothing.”
Shuffling, then Emma’s voice, scared but brave. “Dad?”
“Emma! Baby girl, are you hurt?”
“I’m OK. They grabbed me at the airport. I’m—”
Suddenly—shouting. Male voices, angry and panicked. Then the crack of gunfire.
Pop. Pop!
“Emma!” Stone roars.
She screams—high and terrified—before the line goes dead.
“EMMA!” Stone’s hitting redial but nothing happens. He tries again. Again. His hands shake so badly he almost drops the phone.
The room erupts. Tank’s heading for the door. Duck’s shouting orders. Axel’s on his phone, probably calling his father. Everyone’s moving at once except Stone, frozen, staring at his phone like it might bring his daughter back.
“Boss.” Hawk grabs Stone’s shoulders. “We’re going to get her back.”
“They shot her.” Stone’s voice cracks. “My baby—they shot—”
His phone rings.
Everyone stops.
Stone answers before it finishes ringing. “Emma?”
“It’s Bones.” His voice is steady with an edge. “I’ve got her.”
Stone’s legs give out. He catches himself on the table. “What?”
“She’s safe. Shaken, but safe.”
“How—”
“I’ll explain when we get there. But Stone? She’s OK. I promise.”
Stone drops the phone, both hands braced on the table, head hanging. His whole body shakes.
“What about Summit?” Hawk asks, grabbing the phone.
“I would call them anything but OK.” Bones’s voice carries that flatness that means he’s done things he won’t talk about later. “We’re loading up now. Be there within the hour.”
“Copy that.” Hawk ends the call and looks at Stone, still braced against the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “They’re on their way.”
Mercy moves to Stone, hand gentle on his back. “She’s OK. Bones has her.”
Stone nods, but he can’t speak. Can’t do anything but breathe.
“How the fuck did Bones find her so fast?” Duck asks what we’re all thinking.
“Trackers?” Tank suggests.
I catch the look Duck gives Hawk, and something unspoken passes between them. Before I can figure out what, Stone straightens, composing himself.
“Everyone stays put until they get here,” Stone orders, voice rough but steady. “I want full lockdown. Nobody in or out.”
“On it,” Hawk says, moving toward the door to coordinate with the prospects.
I look at Mercy, see my own confusion reflected in her eyes. How the hell did Bones know where to find her when even Stone couldn’t track her phone?
But underneath the confusion is bone-deep gratitude. Emma is safe. Bones found her. The worst didn’t happen.
This time.
I pull Mercy closer, needing to feel her against me. The house hunting feels like it happened days ago instead of hours. The future we were planning—paint colors, dog breeds, mortgage rates—suddenly feels more precious. More fragile.
This is what I’m fighting for. Not just my own happiness anymore. Not just surviving until tomorrow.
I’m fighting for all of us. For every person here who chose family over blood, who showed up when it mattered, who proved that broken doesn’t mean worthless.
Gabriel’s locked up. Summit’s scrambling. Emma’s safe.
And I’m standing here with the woman I love, planning a future I never thought I’d live to see.
Yeah, I’m fucking happy. And yeah, I’m terrified of losing it.
But mostly? I’m grateful. Grateful I survived long enough to find this. To find her.
Because the alternative—letting fear win, keeping yourself safe but alone—that’s not survival.
That’s just another kind of death.
And I’m done dying.