Epilogue #3
I wrap her in my arms properly, let her soak my shirt with tears while her parents watch with matching expressions of cautious hope. They're still figuring out what to make of me—the MC member with tattoos and a cut who got their daughter pregnant. I can't blame them for the uncertainty.
After a minute she pulls back, wiping her eyes and laughing at herself. "Sorry, I'm such a mess right now." She sniffles, dabbing at her face with the back of her hand.
"You're beautiful." I mean it. She's always beautiful, but especially when she's happy like this.
"Mom, Dad, this is Kade." She gestures between us with one hand while the other stays pressed against my chest, right over my heart. "Kade, this is my mom Stephanie and my dad Jeff."
"Nice to meet you, sir. Ma'am." I extend my hand, shaking Jeff's first—firm grip, assessing eyes that remind me of Walker's—then Stephanie's—softer but measuring me just the same. They're trying to figure out if I'm good enough for their daughter.
I'm not. But I'm what she chose, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve her.
They seem nice. A little out of place surrounded by leather cuts and cartel suits, but I like them. Mostly I like seeing my girl happy, seeing her reconnect with the people who loved her before Daniel fucking Reid destroyed everything good in her life.
We spend the next few hours playing weird games that Grace and Lo apparently found on some baby shower Pinterest board.
Guessing candy bars melted in diapers that just look like shit—literally, that's the whole point.
Eating baby food blindfolded while everyone laughs at our reactions.
Fallon's face when she gets pureed peas makes me laugh so hard I nearly choke on my own beer.
"So how's the new DA?" I ask ángel while the four of us stand around observing—me, him, Damián, and Elías forming a wall of leather and expensive suits near the bar.
We're positioned strategically, backs to the wall, eyes on the room like we're protecting something that matters.
Which I guess we are—this whole celebration, this fragile peace we've built.
The patch on my cut still feels new, even though I've been wearing it for two months now. Full member, not a prospect. Walker's trusting me with more responsibility since graduation—real business, like this Oakland route.
I don't forgive Elías for that stunt he pulled, threatening Fallon like that, but I'm not going to ruin my girl's night with old grudges, plus Damián told me he handled it and I believe him.
Some things you let go for the sake of family, and this—this weird collection of MC brothers, cartel royalty, and civilians—is family now. Whether any of us planned it or not.
Damián laughs, the sound sharp and satisfied, like a blade being unsheathed. "Oh, she's good, isn't she, ángel?" He claps a hand on the councilman's shoulder with enough force to make it clear who's really in charge here.
"I don't even want to know." I take a pull from my beer, the cold liquid cutting through the warmth of the crowded room. Whatever arrangement they've got with the new DA, it's better I stay ignorant. Plausible deniability and all that shit. "As long as she's not keeping tabs on us, I'm good."
"Nah, she's fine." ángel shrugs, looking almost relaxed for once, like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders.
The new DA must be a hell of an improvement over Daniel Reid.
"But you know, straight and narrow. Won't play ball the way Daniel did, but she's not actively trying to fuck us over either.
Just... doing her job within reasonable boundaries. "
"Ahh." I nod slowly, processing the difference. A DA who actually follows the law but doesn't go out of her way to destroy us versus one who took bribes but would turn on anyone in a heartbeat. "Well, that's better than the last one."
"Agreed," ángel mutters, and there's something in his voice that makes me wonder just how much of Daniel's corruption he was forced to participate in.
My gaze drifts across the room to where Fallon laughs at something Lo says, one hand resting on her growing belly. She was still teaching until last Friday—stubborn as hell. But she's done now, planning to stay home with our kid for at least a year.
She looks good. Happy. Nothing like the broken woman who used to flinch at sudden movements. We made sure of that when we put Daniel Reid in the ground.
"So, Sof says everything's been smooth sailing with Oakland.
" Damián shifts his attention to me, all business despite the party atmosphere, the laughter and conversation flowing around us.
His dark eyes focus with laser intensity, and I'm reminded again why this man terrifies even hardened criminals.
"The new route's working out better than expected.
Are you ready to take it wider? Expand the operation? "
"Yeah, we're ready." I meet his gaze straight on, not backing down even though part of me knows this is dangerous territory.
But Walker trusts me with this, and I'm not going to let him down.
The patch on my cut means something—means I'm responsible for more than just myself now.
Every choice affects the club, the family, the business.
"We've got the infrastructure in place, the contacts established. Just need the green light."
"Good." His dark eyes glitter with satisfaction, and he nods once—a gesture that feels like a king granting permission. "We'll meet next week. You, Walker, my people. Hammer out the details, set up the new distribution points."
"Sounds good." I'm nineteen years old and negotiating distribution routes with a Mexican cartel prince. Either I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, or I'm completely fucked. Probably both.
"Come on." Grace appears beside Damián like she materialized out of thin air, tugging his sleeve with determined fingers that allow for no argument.
She reaches for me next, her small hand wrapping around my wrist with surprising strength.
"You too, both of you." She pulls us toward the food table where Lo and Fallon are setting out more plates, her voice dropping to a mock-stern whisper.
"You're not allowed to talk business at my best friend's baby shower.
This is supposed to be fun, not a cartel meeting. "
I catch Fallon's eye as we approach, and she grins at me—really grins, the kind of smile that reaches her eyes.
We eat and Fallon opens presents—mountains of tiny clothes and blankets and shit I don't understand but she seems thrilled about.
We eat cake—vanilla with some kind of berry filling that's actually not bad.
Everyone gets along surprisingly well considering this group includes MC brothers, cartel members, and small-town Nebraska parents who probably never imagined their daughter's life would look like this.
When I notice Jeff walk away from the group, I follow him outside. I need to talk to him anyway, and this seems like good timing.
He tries to hide his hand at first, then sees it's just me and relaxes. "Shit, I thought you were my wife." He brings the cigarette to his mouth and inhales deep, shoulders dropping slightly.
"She doesn't know I smoke sometimes." He takes another drag, looking guilty and defiant at the same time. "Just when I'm stressed. Not that this—well, it's just a lot in there."
"Hey, your secret's safe with me." I lean against the building beside him, watching headlights pass on the street.
He nods, studying me through the smoke. Measuring. Calculating. "So Daniel is missing, huh?" The way he says it tells me he suspects something. Maybe more than something.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm." Another pull from the cigarette. Silence stretches between us while he measures me, decides how much he wants to know. How much he can handle knowing.
"I hated that son of a bitch," he finally says, voice flat and honest. No bullshit. Just raw truth between two men who both love Fallon. "And I'm glad he's gone."
"Yeah, well, that makes two of us." Understatement of the fucking century.
He nods slowly, understanding passing between us without either of us spelling it out. He knows. Maybe not details, but enough.
"How much do you know about their relationship?" I ask, needing to understand what Fallon's told them. What they saw before Daniel isolated her completely.
"Enough to hope he's dead." He says it without hesitation, surprising me with the venom in his voice.
Jeff watches me carefully, waiting for confirmation I can't give. Not directly. Not here.
"Yeah." I shift my weight, deciding to just put it out there. "Well, sir, I—"
"You have my blessing, son." He cuts me off, flicking ash onto the pavement. "Whatever you're about to ask, the answer is yes."
"Yeah?" My heart does something weird in my chest—that nervous shit I'm not used to feeling.
"Yeah." He takes one last drag before stubbing the cigarette out against the building. "She's really happy now, and I suspect all of that has to do with you. Just promise me two things."
"Anything." I say and mean it.
"Take care of her and that baby." He pauses, emotion flickering across his face—grief for the years lost, hope for the future ahead. "And come visit us for the holidays. We've missed enough time with her. Too much time."
"I promise." The words come easy because I mean them with everything I am.
"Thank you, sir."
We head back inside. He stops by the bathroom and I'm pretty sure he suspects I did more than I'm saying to Daniel. That's fine. He's a good man who loves his daughter enough to hate the fucker who was hurting her. He doesn't need details about how Daniel died.
It's getting late and I can tell Fallon's getting tired—that particular exhaustion that settles into her features when she's been social too long and her body needs rest. She's leaning more weight against whoever's standing closest, hand rubbing absent circles on her belly.
I lean in close, lips brushing her ear. "Let's go home."