Epilogue
One Year Later
LEVI
It’s too damn hot. Not even noon yet and the sun’s already got teeth. I lean back in the pool chair, a cold drink sweating in my hand, watching the way the light bounces off the water and listening to Stone mumble about chlorine levels and skimmer baskets like he’s sixty.
Flynn’s stretched out on the lounger between us, legs oily and long, wearing a speedo that’s two sizes too small. He doesn’t care. Not anymore. A year ago, he’d have curled in on himself just from us looking at him too long. Now? He’s got his sunglasses on, his whole damn chest out, soaking up the sun like a smug little lizard.
My heart aches a little when I think about it. He’s stronger now. Not just in body, but in everything. Confident. Grounded. He knows he’s safe here. Loved. Ours .
Our house is just behind us—two stories, a wide porch, four bedrooms we don’t even need yet but will. It’s got big windows, a garden Flynn actually uses, and a room Sasha's already started painting pale green.
We moved into the same subdivision as Nadia’s pack. We live just across the cul-de-sac from them. Big, weird little community full of misfits and murderers and somehow it works. Somehow… we work.
Flynn sighs, stretching again. “I think I’m tan enough to count as golden brown,” he says, lazily turning his face toward me.
“You’re not bread,” I mutter, sipping my drink.
“Maybe I wanna be bread,” he teases, and Stone just snorts beside me.
And then?—
The back door slams open.
Sasha comes barreling outside, her hair in a messy bun, loose tank top stuck to her chest, and a look in her eyes that screams chaos. Stone and I both sit up instinctively.
She storms across the deck and stops right in front of Flynn, blocking the sun and casting a full-body shadow over his tanning session.
Flynn lowers his sunglasses, not even fazed. “What’s up, love?”
She doesn’t answer. Just pulls something from her pocket and drops it right onto his bare chest.
He blinks. Picks it up.
It’s a little white stick.
My brain doesn’t catch up right away. I’m still trying to read his reaction when his face just lights up like a kid at a carnival.
He scrambles to his feet, nearly knocking the lounger over, and throws his arms around Sasha, spinning her like she weighs nothing. She squeals and kicks her legs while laughing, which is rare enough to make me sit up straighter.
Stone glances at me, brows drawn. “What the fuck is happening right now, Little Minx?”
Flynn sets Sasha down, still glowing, still breathless, and holds the stick up like a damn trophy.
“We’re gonna be dads!” he shouts.
I blink.
Stone stares.
Sasha just grins, all teeth and wicked joy.
It hits me then. Like a bat to the ribs.
She’s pregnant.
One of us—hell, maybe all of us—got her pregnant.
I drop my drink. It hits the deck and rolls off with a soft thud, but I don’t care.
Flynn bounces over to me, eyes glassy and stupidly happy. “Levi,” he says, and just wraps his arms around me like he’s afraid I won’t say anything. “It worked. We’re having a baby. A real one. With little toes and a stupid gummy smile and probably Sasha’s rage issues.”
I wrap him up, one hand behind his head, the other gripping his back. I bury my face in his shoulder and breathe him in, heart beating so damn loud I swear he can hear it.
“A baby,” I whisper.
Flynn nods against me. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”
Sasha’s watching us now from a few feet away. Her hands resting on her belly like she’s guarding it already. Stone gets up and moves toward her, slowly, like she’s holy ground.
“You okay?” he asks, brushing hair from her face.
She rolls her eyes. “I hate puking. And if one of you doesn’t go buy me pickles and frozen mozzarella sticks soon, I might start sharpening knives.”
Stone grins and kisses her forehead. “We’ll stock the whole damn fridge.”
I step back, pulling Flynn with me so I can look at both of them.
My pack.
My home.
This past year, we’ve built everything from the ground up. New house. New life. A pack that can’t be broken.
And now—babies. Plural. If I have my way.
Flynn slips his hand into mine and looks up at me like he knows. Like he sees everything I feel without me saying a damn word.
“I love you,” he says, voice soft.
“Yeah,” I rasp, squeezing his fingers. “I love you too, omega.”
Sasha grins from across the deck. “Good. You’re both stuck with me now.”
Stone laughs, full and deep. “Weren’t we already?”
“Now it’s just more officially your fault,” she says, rubbing her belly again like she can already feel little kicks.
And I swear, I’ve never wanted anything more than this life. This future. This family.
Tiny feet. Baby giggles. Sasha’s death glare at three a.m. when Flynn sneaks in with a crying newborn and pleads for help.
It’s all coming.
And I can’t fucking wait.