Epilogue
EMMA
It’s a bright summer’s afternoon on Cherry Mountain, the sun hanging high in the sky as my husband and I lounge on the picnic blanket.
We’re sitting by the river, on the same spot where we met nearly two years ago.
The water laps gently at the bank, glistening in the sunshine as I reach out to grab another strawberry from the picnic basket.
Brody packed all my favorite foods; he knows I’ve been craving strawberries like crazy since I got pregnant, and he even melted some chocolate for me to dip them into.
My bump is only just beginning to show, but that doesn’t stop me from instinctively running my hand over it nonstop.
I just can’t believe I’m going to be a mom.
The surprise keeps hitting me all over again, filling me with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Last week, I had a scan to find out the baby’s sex, and though I would have been happy no matter what, I was thrilled to hear we’re having a little girl.
I can’t wait to meet her and give her a better childhood than I had.
Growing up on Cherry Mountain will be the opposite of Scourfield. Our daughter will be free and happy.
It was the beginning of the end for my father’s cult once the authorities got involved.
After I tipped them off about what was happening in Scourfield, the cops investigated.
Then they raided. The cult was guilty of a laundry list of offenses which came to light during the trial: domestic violence, child neglect, labor exploitation, unlawful imprisonment, even human trafficking.
My father and his men were recruiting new cult members by manipulating them, trapping vulnerable people with the promise of a better life, and then forcing them into manual labor without pay.
The cops also found an entire arsenal of illegal weapons hidden in an underground bunker, which my father had been stockpiling for years. They had him dead to rights.
Having to testify at the trial was the scariest moment of my life—even scarier than escaping Scourfield.
My father’s lessons were deeply ingrained, and standing in a courtroom denouncing the cult went against everything I’d ever been taught.
But I did it, and now Father and his men are in prison.
It will be a long road to recovery for all of us survivors, but with Brody by my side, I feel happier every day.
My husband fought for me every step of the way, just like he promised, and I never could have taken on Scourfield without him.
“What are you thinking about, sugar?”
I shake off my thoughts, looking at Brody. The last couple of years have been kind to my husband. He’s more handsome than ever, grizzled and rugged, and I smile as he fixes me with those bright blue eyes that I love so much.
“I was thinking about you,” I tell him, leaning into him as he loops a muscular arm around me.
“What a coincidence. I was thinking about you, too.” He presses a kiss on my cheek, his beard scratching my skin in a way that makes me shiver.
My heart stutters as he tilts my chin toward him, then captures my lips in a searing kiss.
I never tire of kissing my husband. His raw, masculine taste sends a jolt of desire through me as his tongue slides possessively into my mouth, dominating me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, gasping as he pulls me onto his lap. His hard bulge strains through his jeans, pressing against my core. Need pools between my thighs as Brody’s giant hands grab my ass, grinding me against his lap until I’m aching for him, desperate for more.
“Fuck, sugar.” His voice is a deep growl in my ear. “I need you.”
“I need you too,” I gasp. “Please, Brody.”
He reaches down to unzip his jeans, pulling his huge cock free from his boxers.
It swells between us, thick and girthy, and anticipation throbs deep inside me.
Brody shuffles backward, sitting up with his back against a thick tree trunk, pulling me toward him.
I didn’t bother wearing panties today—they always get in the way during our ‘picnics’—and I eagerly plant my knees on either side of Brody’s hips, holding up the hem of my skirt.
With a moan of relief, I sink down onto my husband’s giant cock, savoring the way he fills me up, pushing against every sensitive nerve inside me.
“That feel good, sugar?” he asks as I start to rock my hips, breathing hard.
“So good…”
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, moaning as I ride his cock in a steady rhythm. His eyes never leave my face, burning into me. Beneath my dress, his hands cup my bare ass, forcing me to move faster.
“Oh!”
I gasp at the change of pace, squirming as Brody takes control of me.
He starts to buck his hips, thrusting up as I sink down, our bodies slamming together wildly.
The sound of our flesh slapping together echoes through the forest, my cries drowning out the gentle rush of water. It’s primal. Animal-like.
And I love it.
“That’s it, Emma,” my husband groans, his jaw tight. “Take my cock. Take every inch.”
His words spur me on, and I match his pace, riding him like a wild thing as he thrusts up into me. My whole body tingles, pleasure burning inside me. It feels so good. My grip on Brody tightens, moans ripping from my throat as I feel myself start to come undone.
“Good girl.” Brody’s eyes pierce mine, filled with savage lust. “Come on my cock, sugar.”
My vision blurs as heat coils in my core, pulling taut. Then it snaps, and pleasure rushes through me in a breathtaking wave. My body convulses, but Brody holds me still, growling as he thrusts into me once, twice…
“Fuck…Emma…”
With a hoarse cry, he holds me down on his cock as he spills his cum inside me, locking us together. As we shudder through the aftershocks, he kisses my neck, wrapping his arms around me tight. Slowly, we start to come back to ourselves.
“You’re perfect,” he mutters. “So fucking perfect.”
I let myself fall against him, muscles slack, sighing with contentment as he strokes my hair. We don’t move for a long time, our hearts beating as one, the sun warming our faces. I could happily stay here all day, but the hours are slipping away, and I need to get some work done.
“We should get home,” I say, pulling back to look at Brody.
He grunts reluctantly, not letting go of me. The grumpy expression on his face makes me smile.
“My assignment is due tomorrow, remember? I need to read through it again.”
He nods, pressing a kiss on my forehead. “If they don’t give you an A, they’ll have me to answer to.”
I giggle, pushing myself off the ground as Brody packs up the picnic things.
He’s always supportive of my studies. I got my GED a few months after meeting Brody and then enrolled in community college.
I’m working toward an associate’s degree in human services, and then hopefully I can do a bachelor’s in social work.
The plan is to get a job helping people like me, who have been forced to run away from abuse or other dangerous situations.
I want to be a lifeline for somebody the way Brody was for me.
I’m so grateful to be able to get an education, but there are still a lot of things I can’t do without my official papers, like get a driver’s license or work legally.
It took a long time for me to build an application for my birth certificate.
Proving you exist is surprisingly difficult, and I had to track down statements from people who knew my family before we moved to Scourfield, gathering evidence that I was born and raised in New Mexico.
I’m still waiting to hear back, and I can’t wait for the day I finally receive it.
Once everything is packed away into the picnic basket, Brody picks it up and holds out his free hand to me.
I take it, and we walk through the forest together, back toward our cabin.
As we approach, my gaze lands on the outbuilding, tucked away in the trees a few hundred yards away.
It’s just about visible from here. We finished all the renovations, and now it’s a fully functioning holiday cabin.
Our first guest was a young woman called Violet, but she didn’t stay long once she met Tanner.
Brody’s giant mountain man buddy whisked her off her feet and moved her into his cabin farther up the mountain.
Now they’re happily married with a baby on the way.
Cherry Mountain has a way of bringing people together.
Back home, I open my laptop, ready to get to work. Brody built a desk for me when I started community college; it faces the living room window, and I love getting to look out at the forest while I study. As I start typing, I hear Brody head outside and come back in a minute later.
“Emma.” I stop typing and swivel my chair around to look at him. He’s holding an envelope in his hands, his eyes glinting. “This was in the mailbox,” he says. “Looks official.”
My mouth goes dry.
Could it be…
Slowly, I stand up and take the letter from Brody, my hands trembling as I open the envelope. I’m almost too scared to look. But as I carefully remove the paper inside, my doubts give way to a rush of elation. There it is, in black and white.
State of New Mexico
Certificate of Birth
Emma Marie Sullivan
April 5 th 2002
I read it over and over, holding it in my hands like a precious artifact. Brody is watching me intently, trying to decipher whether it’s good or bad news.
“It’s my birth certificate,” I whisper.
Then I burst into tears. Brody wraps his arms around me, holding me so tight I can barely breathe, groaning with relief.
I’m too happy to speak. Too overwhelmed.
It might be just a piece of paper, but to me, it’s so much more.
It’s proof that I exist—have always existed—not just as a victim of Scourfield, but as someone who belongs in this world.
Someone with a future. And nobody can take that away from me.
“I’m so damn proud of you,” my husband says, his voice hoarse with emotion.
I beam at him, wiping my eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He leans in to kiss me, a kiss so full of love and joy that it takes my breath away. I smile against his lips, my heart threatening to burst. My past doesn’t get to control me anymore. I’m free to choose my own path. My future. My destiny.
And I choose Brody.