Epilogue Rose
One Year Later
The music from the clubhouse pulses through the compound, a steady beat that carries on the night air.
I watch from our bedroom window as brothers and their old ladies mingle in the courtyard below, celebrating the club's annual anniversary party.
Lights strung across the yard cast a warm glow over leather cuts and raised beer bottles.
My reflection in the glass shows a woman I barely recognize from a year ago. Hair shining, cheeks full, eyes bright with happiness. The simple yellow dress I'm wearing hugs curves that weren't there before—showcasing my healthy weight gained since finding my place here.
Behind me, I hear our son's soft coo through the baby monitor. Lucas Walsh is three months old now, with his father's dark hair and my hazel eyes.
"He's still sleeping?" Cipher's deep voice washes over me as his arms encircle my waist from behind.
I lean back against his solid chest, smiling at our reflection. "For now. Abuela wore him out today with all that bouncing on her knee."
His large hands come to rest on my hips, thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of my dress. "She spoils him."
"We all do," I laugh softly. "Even you, Mr. I-Installed-Six-Security-Cameras-In-The-Nursery-Alone.”
“Seven,” he corrects with no hint of shame. "I added one more last week."
I turn in his arms, reaching up to trace the scar along his jaw—a mark I once found intimidating that now feels as familiar and beloved as the man himself. "Our son is the most protected baby in the entire state."
His usually hard eyes soft as they meet mine. "And so is his mother."
I love my man’s possessiveness. It’s nothing like my stepfather’s stifling control. Cipher's protection isn't a cage—it's a shield. It’s safety and protection, allowing me the freedom to grow into the woman I was always meant to be.
"We should make an appearance," I say, though I make no move toward the door. "It's rude to miss the party entirely."
Cipher's hands slide lower, cupping my ass through my dress. "They won't miss us." His voice drops to that low, rough register that still makes my knees weak. "Besides, we're celebrating something else tonight."
My pulse quickens as his lips find my neck, pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin below my ear. "What's that?"
"One year since you agreed to be my ol’ lady," he murmurs against my skin.
"One year since you finally got your head out of your ass and stopped fighting what we both wanted."
He throws back his head and laughs. “That too.”
I smile, remembering that night in the hospital after he'd rescued me from Richard. How he'd stayed by my side, refusing to leave even when the nurses tried to enforce visiting hours. How he'd told me, in halting, awkward words, that he wanted to try to be the man I deserved.
He hasn't always been perfect—his social skills are still a work in progress, but so are mine. And sometimes his overprotectiveness flares up. But every day, he tries. Every day, he chooses me, chooses us, over the darkness of his past.
“That was the right decision,” I tease, tilting my head to give him better access as his lips move along my collarbone.
“Best decision I ever made," he corrects, hands now sliding up my sides to cup my breasts through my dress. "Having you. Having our son. Having our family. I never knew true happiness like this existed.”
His touch ignites that familiar fire inside me, made stronger by six weeks of doctor-mandated abstinence after Lucas's birth and the natural exhaustion of new parenthood. It's been too long since we've had time for just us, for this connection that grounds us both.
I reach up to pull the band from his hair, letting the dark strands fall loose around his shoulders. "I love you," I whisper the words still new enough to feel sacred. "All of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between."
Something fierce and tender flashes in his eyes. "I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do," I counter firmly, standing on tiptoe to brush my lips against his. "You deserve good things. Including me."
His control snaps at my words, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that steals my breath. My man knows exactly what I want, what I need, and isn't afraid to give it to me.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming, possessing, as his hands grip my hips hard enough to leave faint red marks. I welcome the slight edge of pain, the reminder of his strength and his constant fight to keep it in check for me.
"Need you," he growls against my lips, walking me backward until my legs hit the edge of our bed. "Need to be inside you, Baby Girl."
The nickname still makes me melt, still turns my insides to mush.
His hands find the zipper of my dress, tugging it down with near-desperate urgency. The fabric pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a lace bra and matching thong—lingerie I've taken to wearing under even casual clothes, loving the way Cipher's eyes darken when he “unwraps” me.
"Fuck," he breathes, gaze raking over me with naked hunger. "Look at you."
My body has changed since giving birth—fuller breasts, softer hips, a jiggly belly with a few stretch marks. But under Cipher's gaze, I feel like the most beautiful woman alive.
"Your turn," I say, reaching for the hem of his black t-shirt. He helps me pull it over his head, revealing the tattooed expanse of his scarred, muscular chest and abs.
I trace the Shadow Reapers insignia inked over his heart, then move to the newer tattoo beside it—my name above our son's name and birthdate in elegant script. Proof of his commitment to us, permanently etched into his skin.
My fingers move lower, to the button of his jeans. I can feel his hardness straining against the denim, and I take my time, enjoying the hiss of his indrawn breath as my knuckles brush against him.
"Tease," he accuses, his eyes blazing with desire.
I smile up at him, enjoying my power to affect this dangerous man so completely. "You love it."
"I love you," he counters, the rawness in his voice making my heart stutter.
He steps out of his jeans and boxers in one fluid movement, then reaches for me again, his hands sliding behind my back to unclasp my bra. As the lace falls away, his mouth descends to my breast, tongue circling my nipple before drawing it between his lips.
I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him against me. My sensitivity here has increased since nursing, and Cipher has learned exactly how to use that to drive me wild.
His teeth graze lightly, just enough pressure to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to my core. My hips buck against him involuntarily, seeking friction.
"Patience," he murmurs against my skin, even as his own control visibly frays.
His hands hook into my thong, dragging it down my legs until I'm completely naked before him. There was a time when such vulnerability would have terrified me. Now, I revel in it—in being seen, truly seen, by the man I love.
He guides me down onto the bed, positioning me in the center before covering my body with his. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against mine, feels like coming home.
"Missed this," he says, voice rough with emotion as he braces himself on his forearms. "Missed you."
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer until his hardness presses against my entrance. "I'm right here," I promise. "Not going anywhere."
His eyes hold mine as he enters me with agonizing slowness, giving me time to adjust to his size. The stretch is delicious, the feeling of fullness exactly what I've been craving.
"Okay?" he asks, always checking, always making sure.
I nod, digging my heels into his lower back to urge him deeper. "More than okay. Please, move."
He withdraws almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that has me gasping beneath him. Each stroke hits that perfect spot inside me, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward.
"So beautiful," he murmurs, watching my expressions with that intense focus that used to unnerve me. "So perfect around me. Like you were made for me."
His words fuel my desire, pushing me higher. I reach between us, seeking the spot where my body needs more attention, but Cipher gently moves my hand away.
"Let me," he says, shifting his weight to one arm so his other hand can slide between our bodies. His thumb finds my clit, circling with just the right pressure as his thrusts maintain their steady rhythm.
The dual sensations quickly build to an almost unbearable intensity. My nails dig into his shoulders as I feel my release approaching. "Cipher," I gasp, the only warning I can manage.
"That's it, Baby Girl," he encourages, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
His words push me over the edge, my orgasm crashing through me in waves of blinding pleasure. I cry out his name as my body clenches around him, drawing him deeper.
The feeling of me pulsing around him triggers his own release. With a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his powerful body shuddering as he finds his completion inside me.
For long moments, we remain connected, both catching our breath as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through us. When he finally moves, it's only to shift his weight to the side, keeping me tucked against him as if he can't bear to lose contact.
His hand traces idle patterns on my skin, along my hip, across my stomach, up to cup my breast with reverent gentleness. In these quiet moments, I see the man behind the weapon most clearly—the tender heart that survived unimaginable cruelty and still found the capacity to love.
"What are you thinking?" he asks.
"About us," I admit, turning to face him fully. "About how far we've come."
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes serious. “You don’t regret it, do you? Staying with me, having our son, living this MC life?"
The question would surprise me if I didn't know him so well. Beneath his strength, beneath his certainty, there remains that wounded boy who was taught he was too different to deserve love.
"Never," I say firmly, holding his gaze so he can see the truth there. "Not for a single second."
Through the baby monitor, Lucas stirs, making the soft, snuffling sounds that precede waking. Cipher smiles—that rare, full smile that transforms his face and still makes my heart race.
"Duty calls," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead before rising to pull on his boxers. "I'll get him."
I watch as he moves toward the door, this dangerous man who kills without remorse to protect what's his, but who also changes stinky diapers without complaint and sings lullabies in his rough voice when he thinks no one can hear.
"Cipher," I call softly. He pauses, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow. "I love you. All of you."
Something tender and fierce passes over his face. "And I love you, Baby Girl. Until my last breath."
As he disappears down the hall toward our son's room, I stretch luxuriously in our bed, content in a way I never imagined possible. From a burden to a cherished partner and mother. From invisible to essential. From survival to truly living.
Outside, the party continues. Inside, we've built our sanctuary—not perfect, sometimes messy, occasionally complicated by the realities of club life and our respective wounds. But it's ours. It's real.
And for a girl who once believed she'd never escape her prison, who once thought freedom was just a dream—it's everything.
***
Next book: Chaos (Renegade Kings, Book 1)
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