Bonus Epilogue
***
A few months later
Sneaking in has been tricky. We’ve only needed to do this once before.
It went well the first time, so we’re not pushing our luck by trying something new.
My wristwatch reads 4 a.m. when Damon taps his phone and says, “This will tamper with the cameras without leaving a trace.”
My life’s in his hands, so I trust him. It’s been in his hands, and he hasn’t let me down. Neither me or Darius. Or his son.
I’ve been delighted to hear more and more news about my brother when Damon sends me encrypted messages about him and his family. Darius finally got to retire as a revered vet by a beautiful beach in the tropics.
Perhaps I could be at a beach one day, but at the moment, I’m lying down in the back seat of Damon’s Lexus. I’m clad in all black with a hood that makes me feel like the Reaper. Chuckling to myself, I think of how odd this must look, if we ever get caught.
But the aim is to lie low.
We’d be going anywhere else, but his computer network is secured to this location, so he’s parking us in the underground garage right now. Soon, we can get inside his wife’s estate and access his study.
I also really wanna see my son, so two birds, one stone. Though, I’m not a fan of violence, even in metaphors, but it’s true enough. I’d like to see him while I’m here.
Besides, I get to see how Em’s doing, by passing by her lab, by seeing the photos framed and decorating their halls. The last time I visited, I imagined walking alongside her again as I followed Damon’s lead. It’s a fond memory that helps me smile on lonely nights.
Luckily, Stan saved videos he recorded into a hard drive, which I access to rewatch on occasion, just to relive moments of Em unraveling. Admittedly, it’s rather perverse, but…
Listen, when a man’s desperate over the woman he wants, he’ll do just about anything.
When Damon gives me the signal, I get up and exit his car, then follow him into the basement hall, which lets us pass by Stan’s “hacker room”—as his handmade sign says—as well as Em’s professionally labeled “research laboratory.” I smile, pride warming my chest as I trace her sign with my fingers, before going up the stairs, and into the west wing.
Our footsteps barely make a sound. Even the lights seem subdued, casting more shadow than glow. We pass more closed doors, a lot of them still in renovation in this corridor. I’m guessing that renovations have been paused to avoid making noise for the tiny humans needing their rest in the nursery.
We’re about to pass that exact room, and without a word said between us, we both slow our steps until we stop at the door.
I ease the nursery door open with my fingers and slip inside. The room’s even dimmer than the hall, lights turned low this early in the day.
Looking around, I notice the new painted signs hanging high above each crib, far out of the infants’ reach. I read the wooden plaques in order, admiring the handiwork and care put into them.
Then I reach the last bluish green crib closest to the window where my son is.
Riz. I smile wide. What a cute nickname.
The paint on his name isn’t perfect. But there’s Em’s exquisite lettering. Lix’s surely heavier strokes. Stan’s unmistakable flair for playful colors. Their signatures sit beneath the name, pressed close together like they ran out of room but didn’t want to move apart.
Closer to the crib, I see that Riz is sound asleep, mouth parted to let out a quiet breath with every rise of his chest. His blanket’s tucked neatly around him.
One tiny hand peeks out, fingers loose when I brush the back of my fingertip over them. Then I move my finger until it hovers near his cheek. But I settle for watching his breathing until it evens out again.
He looks a lot like me. His skin’s a similar tan. His hair, dark and unruly, curls around his crown.
Behind me, Damon moves closer. He comes to stand beside me, gaze going to the crib where his son, Kain, is cooing quietly.
“Idris.”
His voice is level and uninflected when he calls my name. It’s the same tone he uses in secret meetings and secure rooms. I thought by now he’d sound friendlier, but I suppose we’re all business when we’re trying not to wake everyone up with our unexpected presence.
Though, I must admit the idea is tempting, especially if it means seeing Em. But I can’t tempt fate like that, not when I stand by what I said. That Em knowing things she shouldn’t would put her in danger, and I would never risk that.
“We have extremely limited time, Idris,” he says. “There are a lot of files to review before sunrise.”
He waits for me when I take one last lingering look at my son. “Sweet dreams, Riz.”
I turn after, meeting Damon’s eyes. He nods toward the hallway, his feet moving fast but silent. I follow, pulling the door closed behind us with the same care I used to open it.
I keep my steps light as we move down the hall, matching Damon’s pace the best I can. He stops at his study and unlocks the door for us.
For a brief moment, I glance down the hall, checking the nursery door. It’s closed, it’s quiet, and inside there, they’re all safe.
So I slowly ease the door shut, guiding it until the latch clicks silently into place.
Behind me, Damon’s taking a seat in his leather chair. I walk toward his desk, roll up my sleeves and rest my forearm on top of his chair.
“Time to make the next move,” I say, taking in the glowing screen of his computer.
Set’s face pops up in pictures at all angles.
My own father. In different locations, shaking hands with people, making bad deals for his own gain.
Destroying the world with drugs, with organ trafficking, and maybe much worse.
He’s doing all of this in the name of what he thinks is love and vengeance over a woman stuck in a coma.
He doesn’t know the meaning of love, or vengeance, or what a man will do for the woman he cherishes the most out of everything in the world.
It’ll take time, but we’ll prove him wrong, fix everything he broke, and then, we’ll take him down too.