Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER
Novalee
The soft breeze threads through my hair, carrying just enough relief to cut through the lingering heat of a Vegas evening. It’s one of those days where the sun seems determined to bake every surface, even as the sky begins to blush with the impending sunset.
The hem of my white summer dress brushes against my knees as I crouch down and place a bouquet of roses gently on the grave in front of me, the writing on the headstone clear thanks to a ray from the light of the sinking sun.
Rose ‘Rosie’ Lane. Beloved daughter, niece, and sister.
“Told you I’d bring you flowers,” I whisper, the contentment of fulfilling that promise not enough to outweigh the loss. “Only took me five years.”
I glance over my shoulder and up at Koen, who stands behind me, not even considering hiding the grief on my face for a moment. I don’t do that anymore with any of them, not that I could ever hide from this man anyway. The sun is at his back as he offers me a hand, his brown eyes locked on mine. In one fluid movement, he pulls me to standing and positions my back against his front, then sweeps my hair away from my face and presses a kiss to my temple.
“I don’t think she minds,” he murmurs. “Right, Rosie girl?”
Beside us, Levi lets go of Ezra only long enough for him to place his own bouquet—peonies, not roses—on their mother’s grave, right beside Rosie’s. “I think they’re happy we’re happy.”
My gaze drifts to the third headstone, the one etched with a name that still tugs at my heart in its own complicated bouquet of emotion.
Oscar Lane. Uncle, friend , and greatest magician Vegas has ever seen.
Sylus and Ace stand vigil while Nicholas carefully arranges sunflowers on Oscar’s grave. He brought them all the way from Tuscany, just like the rest of the flowers lying in front of the graves now.
Tuscany.
Our home is a little slice of heaven. It’s not just a villa or really what anyone would describe as little. A winding street lined with cypress trees leads to our home, and the house itself is sprawling and sunlit, with a terracotta roof and vines creeping along the walls. The surrounding land is perfection, and our home sits perched on top of one of those postcard-perfect hills.
Then there are the flower fields. Rows upon rows of flowers dotting the space behind the house. Nicholas planted them all himself, tending to every seed with a care that’s so inherently him. When he’s not in the fields, he’s in the little shop he opened in the next town over, smiling as he sells his bouquets and talks about all things flowers with the locals. He’s so damn content and confident like he’s finally found the piece of himself that was missing.
As if sensing my thoughts, Nicholas strokes one last sunflower petal as he lays it just so, stands, and turns his gaze to me. That boyish grin of his spreads across his face the moment our eyes meet, dimples and all, and I can’t help but smile back. He’s picked up parkour courses again, teaching the kids in the town over. They adore him for it—his energy, his patience, the way he cheers them on. He loves it as much as they do.
For the first time, he’s free. Truly, really, free as he lives his dream completely separate from the Harrington name.
In fact, he ditched that, too, when he decided to change his last name. He’d asked me if I wanted him to take mine, Evans, but I told him that we both knew which name he really should pick.
So now, the man before me with a bright smile and clear eyes is Nicholas Lane.
Koen had shrugged at the gesture, saying he’d felt like a brother for years anyway. Levi, on the other hand, cried as he hugged Nicholas so hard I thought they’d both fall over.
We’d all considered changing our names at first, thinking we’d have to disappear after what went down in Vegas. But Ezra kept an eye on the police reports for weeks, and Sylus hacked into everything he could get his hands on to monitor the fallout, and we realized it wasn’t necessary.
In the end, the charges against us were minor.
Staging an unauthorized public performance.
Disturbing the peace.
Reckless endangerment due to crowd panic.
Tampering with private property.
Illegal drone usage.
Grand theft auto.
All things we could live with or, more accurately, pay our way out of if they ever managed to track us down.
Veronica couldn’t say the same, though. The evidence we’d presented at the show was so damning that even her best lawyers couldn’t spin it. She went down hard, along with her lackeys. With her empire crumbling, the authorities didn’t have much interest or time to spare for us.
Before long, Levi’s predicted headline became a reality, and Veronica Harrington was sentenced to life for murder, money laundering, and human trafficking.
Calling it gratifying doesn’t even begin to cover it. Watching her fall was nothing short of poetic justice. It wasn’t just victory. It was vindication.
For Oscar.
And for us.
When Nicholas steps back, Sylus moves forward, kneels before the headstone, and sets a piece of elaborate, gorgeous embroidery down next to the sunflowers.
Rest in Magic.
The words are stitched in swirling gold thread, and a ring of stars frames the letters. It’s his best yet, thanks to the practice and guidance he’s had in Tuscany.
Sylus brushes his fingers over the edge of the fabric as if smoothing it into place. “You know, you always said the magic wasn’t in the tricks but in the people you share it with.” His voice cracks, but he powers through it with a laugh. “Guess you were right. Again. ”
“He’d love it,” Ezra says softly. “It’s perfect.”
Sylus shrugs, but his lips twitch with a small smile as he glances at him. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t gonna stitch Eat a Dick on there, was I?”
Koen snorts a laugh and then pulls me even closer to him. “Pretty sure he’d have laughed at that too.”
“Damn right, he would’ve.” Sylus stands up and brushes grass from his knees. “Rest easy, Oscar. You deserve it.”
My throat tightens with emotion as Ace easily throws an arm around Sylus’s shoulders and pulls him into a one-sided hug.
Sylus has flourished in Italy in a way I could’ve never anticipated. It’s like the slower pace of life agrees with him, even if he would probably never admit it. He spends his days lounging by the pool, gaming in the shade, or zipping around on his Vespa, weaving through narrow, cobblestoned streets like he was born for it.
And don’t even get me started on his Italian. We all tried to learn together, but somehow Sylus became the freaking master. Turns out, when you befriend a group of sweet little nonnas in the village and take embroidery and crafting classes with them, you pick up the language fast.
They adore him, of course, their Sylus, as they call him. They teach him recipes, fuss over his stitches, and tsk at him when he curses, which only makes him laugh and apologize in rapid, flawless Italian.
Sometimes, when he’s bored, he tags along with me to my astronomy classes at the nearby university. It’s such a small thing, really, just a single course I signed up for on a whim. I still have no idea what I want to do with it, if anything, but the guys convinced me to see it through.
“Why not?” Koen had said one night as we lay sprawled on blankets outside the villa, the stars above so bright and sharp they felt closer than ever. “You love this stuff. Do it for you.”
“Yeah, and for us.” Nicholas had chimed in from my other side, “Someone has to make sure the constellations we glued to our bedroom ceiling are right.”
And Sylus, grinning up at the sky from where he’d lounged between my legs with his head resting on my stomach, had added, “If nothing else, Sparkle, it’s a damn good excuse to buy fancy notebooks.”
But it’s only when Ace had said that Rosalee would have loved it for me, did I sign up.
And it is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I love the quiet joy of it—the diagrams, the stories behind the stars, the way the universe feels like a puzzle I’m just beginning to understand.
After my first class, I came home to Sylus lounging in the library with the nonnas’ latest biscotti recipe and a new embroidery project.
“Learn anything about my star today, Sparkle?” he’d asked, making me roll my eyes.
“Pretty sure that one doesn’t count as part of any known constellation.”
“It should. I’m practically a celestial phenomenon.”
“More like a shooting star. Brief and messy.”
“Messy?” He had clutched his chest. “You wound me, baby. I’ll have you know my star gets rave reviews.”
“From who? The nonnas?”
He’d barked out a laugh then and tossed his embroidery aside before proceeding to show me why his star absolutely is a celestial phenomenon.
But the best part? The nights in Tuscany, when the sky is so dark and deep it feels infinite, and the stars seem to stretch forever, like scattered glitter across the black velvet of the sky.
They feel so close like I could reach out and pluck one from the heavens. Those nights, lying with the guys on blankets under that endlessness, are magic and a reminder of how far we’ve come, of how lucky we are. Of how, even when things were at their darkest, I found a way to the light.
And now, Rosalee has her own piece of it too.
Koen had hired people, experts—the best, because that’s what he does—to bring Rosalee’s remains to Tuscany. She now rests on a hill just beyond the villa, between two cypress trees that seem to touch the sky. It overlooks the rolling green fields and the vineyards, the perfect slice of peace.
The first time he’d shown me, I couldn’t breathe. There, nestled between the trees, was the small stone in the form of a rose with her name on it.
My sister is there now, in the place we dreamed of. No longer in Phoenix, no longer tied to the tragedy of the past.
She’ll be with me forever.
“I thought she’d like the view,” Koen had said simply, and I couldn’t stop the tears or the way I threw myself into his arms.
I’d already loved him so much, but in that moment, I think my heart stretched so I could love him even more.
Now, every other evening, I head up the hill to sit with her. Sometimes, it’s only Rosalee and me, talking about everything I missed doing with her or telling her about the things I wished she could’ve seen. Sometimes, one of the guys will join me, holding my hand or pulling me into their lap as they listen intently to the memories and wishes I share with my sister.
Koen brushes my hair from my face, his soft caress settling me. “You okay?”
I turn my head to smile at him. “I am.”
Koen thrives in Italy too. There, he’s not the famous mentalist, the Lane twin who everyone thinks they know. Nobody stops him on the street, whispers his name, or asks for a selfie. He’s just Koen. He’s free to be whoever he wants to be, and he’s taken to it like he was born for this new, simpler life.
He bought a Ferrari because, of course he did, and he treats it like a proud parent. He spends hours driving it through the winding streets of Tuscany from one little town to the next. Every time he comes back, he’s bursting with stories about something new he’s discovered. A hidden restaurant with the best gnocchi, a vineyard tucked away in the hills that grows grapes he swears taste like summer, a tiny bakery where they know him by name now and have a fresh loaf waiting for him when he visits.
When he’s not cooking or scouting out the best food and wine, he’s with Nicholas, their renewed friendship stronger than ever as he helps with the parkour classes. The kids love Koen almost as much as they love Nicholas, and I think Koen loves them back just as much.
Shortly after we settled in our new home, Koen wanted to buy me the Mustang he’d promised me and even got close to it, showing me glossy photos with a grin like he’d found the perfect one. And he had, but as he studied my reaction, he tossed the photo to the ground, reading me perfectly in that way of his.
“You don’t need it anymore, do you?” he’d asked as he grasped my face between his palms.
I’d covered his hands with my own and smiled as I voiced that truth. “No. I already have everything I need. More than I could’ve ever hoped for.”
But still, he drives his Ferrari like it’s his mission in life to know every road in Tuscany. Sometimes, we go together, zipping through the hills with the windows down, the sun on our faces, and the air smelling of cypress trees and lavender. We’ll stop in one of those little towns and find a bottle of wine for the cellar or ingredients for pizza and pasta.
And when we’re back at the villa, he makes magic in our oversized kitchen. He tosses dough in the air like he’s performing a trick, and each night, we all crowd around the table to try his latest creation. And more often than not, he plays the guitar afterward, singing for us. Our evenings are full of music, chaos, laughter, and clinking glasses, all highlighted by Sylus stealing bites before the food hits the plates, and Koen rolling his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Koen plants a kiss on my neck, and I shiver, blinking back into the evening as Ace steps up to Oscar’s headstone. I watch as he places a hand on the stone, his shoulders square, standing with his head bowed and the breeze stirring his blond hair.
“I wish you were here.” His fingers curl against the headstone. “But I’ll keep the show going for you.”
Pride and love swell inside me. He’s come so far.
Ace went back to school and got his high school diploma online. Now, he’s working toward degrees in psychology and social work, determined to help people with trauma.
People like us.
I glance around at all the men gathered, thinking of what we’ve all been through. Ace wants to help people like all of us, ones who’ve been to the edge and back. It’s hard to believe that sometimes, the man who once flinched at every touch is now actively putting himself out there, opening himself up for others.
Thankfully, he’s completely good with my touch now, to the point where I don’t even have to think about it anymore, and neither does he. But what makes my heart soar even more is seeing him extend that touch to the others. A hand on Koen’s shoulder when he’s distracted, or now, when he pulled Sylus to his side for a moment of comfort. He’s not fine with being touched without warning, but he’s getting there, step-by-step. And I love him all the more for it, especially since it inspired me to start seeing his therapist too.
Therapy has given me a space I didn’t know I needed, a place to say things out loud that I’d kept buried, to pick apart the chaos of my past and realize how much of it wasn’t my fault. It’s not easy, peeling back those layers. It’s like shedding old skin, raw and uncomfortable but freeing.
For so long, I thought survival meant keeping it all locked away, moving forward without looking back. But now I understand that healing is its own kind of strength. And every session, every step I take, feels as though I’m stitching myself back together.
Our competitive streak hasn’t gone anywhere, though. If anything, it’s sharper than ever, though it’s now channeled into card games. Once a week, we have game night when the whole crew gathers around the long dining table. It starts with everyone there, laughing and teasing, wine glasses clinking alongside the water ones for Sylus and me. But as the night stretches on, they start dropping like flies. Koen stays halfway drunk, laughing with Levi and Ezra over their shared bottle of Chianti, whereas Sylus is usually the first to give in, his head dropping onto the table, snoring softly as someone—usually Levi—throws a napkin over his face for fun.
Then it’s just Ace and me, locked in our endless battle for supremacy, while whoever is left conscious cheers or groans from the sidelines. It always ends the same. One of us triumphant, the other pretending to be a sore loser. And yes, it’s only pretend because the loser has to give head.
And let’s be real, there are worse fates than that.
I glance at him now, standing in front of Oscar’s grave, and my heart swells. He’s still Ace, steady, sharp, fiercely loyal, but he’s also Alaric, the man who once held the world at arm’s length and now leans into it with everything he has.
“Okay, come on, guys.” Levi rubs his hands together like he’s just finished a magic trick. “Let’s go and do what we’re here for.”
“Do we have to?” I pout.
Koen’s arm around me loosens as he chuckles. “Oh, you don’t want to?”
“I already told you guys yesterday. It’s not legal.”
Nicholas comes to my side and interlaces our fingers, squeezing gently, his dimples flashing when I glance at him. As I lean into him, Ace comes to my other side, taking my free hand.
“When did something not being legal ever stop us, Trouble?”
I nuzzle against Nicholas’s shoulder and smile as I answer, “You know what I mean. It’s not that serious.”
“I disagree wholeheartedly,” Sylus protests, leading the way as we walk toward the car waiting for us outside the cemetery gates.
We only flew out of Tuscany this morning, the jet landing in Arizona an hour ago. We hadn’t planned to make this trip. Not really. It happened last night in the most ridiculous, chaotic way possible.
We’d been watching a movie while Sylus lounged on the couch, groaning about his stiff neck. He’d spent the afternoon kneading cookie dough with his nonna squad, and it apparently took more out of him than he expected. So, naturally, I took pity on him and massaged his neck, my fingers digging into the knots while he melted under my touch, asking me to marry him.
“Already did,” I’d responded without thinking, which had Nicholas, Koen, and Ace whipping their heads around so fast I thought they’d pull something too.
“What the hell does that mean?” Ace had demanded.
Sylus had grinned lazily and said, “Oh, you didn’t know? Sparkle baby and I got hitched five years ago. Vegas style.”
“It was an auto-wed machine.” I had to clarify, laughing and trying to wave it off. “It was a joke! The machine doesn’t even make it legal. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Koen wasn’t having it. He’d folded his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way of his. “You’re married to Sylus, and the rest of us, what? Just stay your boyfriends? Not happening.”
“Told you guys I’m her main.” Sylus chuckled, being as unhelpful as possible.
“Koen, it’s not real,” I’d tried to argue, but he wasn’t listening.
“It doesn’t matter.” He was already reaching for his phone. “We’re fixing this.”
“Fixing what?”
“Fixing the fact that you married Sylus and not us. This disbalance is unacceptable.” And just like that, he was calling the pilot and chartering a jet.
And then he called Levi and Ezra, who live in their own villa a hill away from ours, dragging them into this. “We’re getting married. Pack a bag. You’re coming.”
Levi didn’t even question it. “Obviously.”
So here we are.
Leaving a cemetery and getting into a car that is going to take us to that damn auto-wed machine that we don’t even know for sure is still there.
Vegas rolls past the window as we go, glimmering with neon and nostalgia. This place holds so much of my past, a strange mix of old and new, and tonight, it’s like I’m revisiting a memory while rewriting it at the same time.
Sylus’s hand is warm in mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles absentmindedly. I glance at him, catching the small, secretive smile tugging at his lips, the kind of smile that’s reserved only for me. He lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my fingers. I mirror the gesture, pressing my lips to the back of his hand, and linger long enough to catch the tiny sparkle tattoo on his ring finger.
I can still picture it clearly, him leaning casually against the counter at the tattoo parlor three years ago as I admired the new rose tattoos blooming over the scar on my shoulder. He’d wandered over when his session was done, holding out his hand to show me.
When I asked why he got it, he just winked, that devilish grin lighting up his face, and said, “ Because sparkles are eternal. Just like you and me. ”
Well, the guys could’ve noticed sooner, I guess. Sylus wasn’t exactly stealthy about it. But as my lips brush over his version of a wedding ring now, I can’t help but feel the truth of his words.
My gaze drifts down to my shoulder, where my tattoo peeks from beneath the strapless white dress Koen insisted was “ absolutely perfect for a wedding. ” The roses cover the scar completely, and I run my fingers lightly over them.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sylus’s voice pulls me back.
“Just thinking about the tattoo shop,” I answer honestly, watching the corner of his mouth twitch into a bigger grin.
“Good times.” He winks, making me laugh.
The car slows, and I look up, catching sight of the pink auto-wed machine.
Thank fuck it’s still here.
I have no idea where Koen would have dragged me to fix this ’fuckup,’ as he called it, though now I see that it was unfair and agree that we have to fix it. And if I’m honest, I want to have this memory with all of them too.
The car pulls to a stop, and I spot Annabelle waiting outside with her husband, Michael. She’s bouncing on her toes despite the clear swell of her baby bump.
“You’re going to pop if you keep that up,” I tease her the moment I slip out of the car, then squeak out, “Don’t you dare!” as she runs toward me. I catch her in a hug with a laugh before pulling back and eyeing her bump. “Babe, calm down! You’ve got precious cargo in there!”
“I couldn’t help it!” Annabelle gushes, pulling me into another tight hug. “I’m just so happy you’re here!” She pulls back to take me in this time, her eyes sparkling as they sweep over me. “And look at this dress. God, you’re gorgeous!”
“Don’t even start, girl,” Levi huffs as he climbs out of the car, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves like he’s affronted. “I wanted her to wear something appropriate for her big day, but she insisted on this no-name summer dress.”
I roll my eyes. “We decided yesterday to do this, Dove. Where exactly would you have arranged a dress overnight?”
“I have my ways.” He sniffs indignantly.
“He does,” Annabelle agrees with a smirk, shooting Levi a knowing look. “And you somehow managed to conjure up a bridesmaid overnight too.”
I grin at her. “I’m so glad I did. It’s been way too fucking long.”
“Too long since you dragged me to Tuscany, you mean?” she teases, her hands resting on her baby bump.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t think setting you up in a private jet counts as dragging, but don’t think I won’t do it again once the baby’s here.”
“I hope so. But you could come here more often too.”
Sylus chuckles from the side, his arms crossed lazily. “Blondie, we’re still wanted criminals, if you remember.”
“Oh, I remember.” She grins. “I was there.”
The last time I was here with her was three years ago when she got married. I was her bridesmaid, and my family had tagged along, of course, and Levi and Ezra seized the opportunity to get married themselves the very next day. By an Elvis impersonator, no less.
“I’m sure I would be able to find a last-minute Elvis to officiate you guys here too.” Levi quips.
Koen groans. “One Elvis wedding is enough for a lifetime.”
“Yeah, because an auto-wed machine is so much better,” Ezra mutters.
“It is.” Sylus crouches at the back of the machine, fiddling with wires and grinning like a mad scientist. “How about…” he starts as he tugs out a cable and plugs it into his phone, “… we make this thing work for us. ”
“What are you doing?”
“Upgrading it.”
The machine springs to life with a cheerful chime, and the screen lights up, but instead of only asking for a bride and a groom like last time, it now says something else.
The More… the Merrier.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” Sylus gestures dramatically at the screen, “… the modified Auto-wed Machine 3000, now polycule-compatible.”
I laugh hard as Sylus enters each of our names.
Sylus Walker.
Koen Lane.
Nicholas Lane.
Alaric Monroe.
Novalee Evans.
When he’s done, he looks at me softly as he says, “We’re all in it together.”
My laughter dies out as the truth of that settles inside me. I break his stare to look at the screen, then look at each of my guys. Emotions bubble up inside me, so intense and good that I don’t trust myself to try to say anything, but I’m saved from responding when the machine chimes.
Say yes, share your vows, and kiss the bride!
Two yes buttons appear on the screen, the same as last time.
Sylus steps up without hesitation, pressing his button with a flourish then turns to me, his grin playful. His fingers curl around my throat, thumb pressing lightly against my pulse.
“Yes, no, maybe so? ” he murmurs, tilting his head as if daring me to answer wrong.
A shiver rolls down my spine. “Yes,” I whisper, my voice breathy.
His grin widens, approval flashing in his silver eyes. He pecks my lips before releasing my throat and turning back to the screen. “ Then push that button, Sparkle.”
I huff a laugh as I press mine, and his grin softens into something warmer before he takes my pinky finger into his. “Sparkle baby, I promise to be yours, to keep being your person, and keep doing exactly what we’ve been doing for the last five years forever. I love you.”
“Is nobody bothered that he’s now done this twice and will never let us forget it for the rest of our lives?” Nicholas mutters from behind us, his voice laced with exasperation.
“ Shh, ” Koen hisses while Ace just snickers, clearly enjoying the chaos.
I ignore them and squeeze Sylus’s pinky. “You knew it from the start. You saw me, even when I didn’t see myself, and you never gave up on me. I’m so thankful you didn’t.” My eyes sting, but I don’t bother hiding the tears. “You’re my person. I love you, and I promise to keep loving you forever.”
His grin turns mischievous as he leans in and kisses me, his lips lingering just enough to make me feel like I’m floating. The faint click of the photo is barely noticeable over the pounding of my heart.
Then Sylus steps aside, making way for Koen, whose gaze is already locked on me. Without a word, he presses his button, his lips twitching into a small, knowing smirk. It’s the kind of look that says, I see you, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
When it’s my turn, I press mine, barely looking at it as I try to summon a way to say all the things I can’t quite put into words. My lips part like I might say something, but I don’t, trusting him to pick up on the storm brewing inside me.
His smirk softens, and he gives me that subtle, approving nod, the kind that says good girl without needing to say it out loud. It’s the same nod that has always made me feel seen, steady, and most of all— safe.
“You’re the wildcard I didn’t see coming,” he starts, his voice strong and sure. “But I’d never give you back. You’ve changed my life for the better in ways I didn’t think were possible. I’ve never trusted anyone with my heart, my life, more than I trust you. I love you, Little Thief.”
I know he can see right through me, right to every ounce of love and longing I feel for him right now. I lean into my feelings, letting my shoulders drop, letting my face soften. My lips curve into the smallest of smiles as I stare up at him, forgoing words and simply showing him how much I love him, how much I want him, how much I trust him too.
“You’re my safe haven,” I whisper, finally finding the perfect words to describe how I feel. “I love you, Koen. Always.”
His lips quirk in a way that shows me he always knows. And God, I love him for it. His hand slides up to my cheek, and his kiss is a firm vow against my lips, leaving me feeling safe and cherished. Another click follows, capturing the moment. He breaks the kiss then but not the contact of our lips as he whispers, “ Precious. ”
He steps back after one more shared breath, and I smile as Nicholas takes his place, and his gaze locks on mine, a playful glint in it as his hand hovers over the screen. “Would you rather press that button and promise me forever, or—”
“I don’t need to hear the other option.” I cut him off, pressing my button without hesitation. “Because all I want is forever with you.”
“Sweetness.” His smile transforms into a wide grin. “You see me. All of me. You make me feel free in a way I didn’t think was possible. I’d follow you anywhere. I love you.”