Epilogue
The hot pool on the roof steamed in the cool night air, the lights of the city winking below them like distant stars.
Mason leaned back against the edge, every muscle in his body aching, every bruise reminding him that victory never came without a price.
Jacob stretched out beside him, one arm draped lazily around Violet, who sat between them.
She was naked, as were they, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight, her dark hair wet and clinging to her shoulders.
They had loved her thoroughly, reverently, and for a while the world had been narrowed to breath and touch and the unshakable bond of the three of them.
Now, though, Violet was quiet. Too quiet.
Jacob nudged her shoulder, his voice gentle. “What’s wrong, Vi?”
She blinked, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t know if I want kids.” The words were almost lost to the hiss of steam, but Mason heard them like a roar. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom.”
Mason pushed upright, his chest tight. He and Jacob traded a glance before surrounding her, pulling her close until she was cocooned between them.
“Violet,” Mason rumbled, his deep voice steady.
“If we ever had a cub with you, we’d be the luckiest men alive.
But we don’t need kids to be complete. You complete us already. ”
Jacob kissed the side of her head. “You think you’d be a bad mom? Hell, you’d be terrifying. You’d raise a kid who could take down anyone stupid enough to cross them. And you’d love them so fiercely they’d never doubt it for a second.”
Violet’s eyes shimmered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You mean that?”
“Every word,” Mason said. He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re stubborn, brilliant, sarcastic as hell, and tougher than anyone I’ve ever met. Those aren’t flaws—they’re what make you perfect. For us. For anything.”
She sniffed, managing a watery laugh. “I guess I am awesome, huh?”
Jacob grinned. “Damn right. And you’d be a kickass mom.”
The rooftop filled with their laughter and the hiss of water as they pulled her close again, sealing the promise with heat and love under the moonlit sky.
But Mason didn’t let the moment pass without more. He tightened his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Do you want to know what I love most about you?”
Violet snorted, trying to cover her nerves with sarcasm. “My winning personality?”
Jacob chuckled. “That, and the fact you can swing those batons like the Angel of Death herself.”
Mason shook his head. “No. It’s the way you never quit. You fight like hell for everyone else, even when you’re hurting. That’s what makes you who you are. That’s what will make you the kind of mom who doesn’t just raise a cub but raises a warrior with a heart.”
Violet’s eyes glossed again, though this time she didn’t hide it. “You guys always know how to wreck me.”
Jacob leaned closer, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “You wreck us too, Vi. In the best way.”
They stayed there, the three of them soaking in the warmth, the steam rising into the night sky. Mason let his gaze roam across the city lights, thinking of the battles they had fought, the blood they had spilled. Victory tasted bittersweet, but with Violet between them, it tasted like hope too.
“Do you think we deserve this?” Violet asked softly, almost to herself.
Jacob answered before Mason could. “Deserve? Baby, we bled for this. We killed for this. We damn well earned it. And I’ll be damned if anyone takes it from us.”
Mason kissed her damp hair. “And if the day ever comes that someone tries, they’ll learn the hard way that there is nothing more dangerous than two brothers protecting the woman they love.”
Violet tilted her head back against the pool’s edge, eyes closing. “You two are so sappy. You make me cry, then you make me laugh. Maybe I would be a good mom after all.”
Jacob cupped her cheek, turning her face to his. “Not maybe. Definitely.”
Mason felt her hand slip into his under the water, fingers threading tight. He squeezed back. In that grip was trust, acceptance, love—and a promise of a future.
When they finally rose from the hot pool, dripping and flushed, the night air was cool against their skin.
Violet shivered, and they each grabbed a towel, wrapping her up and carrying her inside between them.
She laughed at the ridiculousness of being carried, but she didn’t tell them to stop. She never would.
Later, stretched across Violet’s wide bed with her tangled between them, they whispered again about the baby she had just agreed to. What it might look like. Whose temper it might inherit. Mason secretly prayed it wouldn’t be hers, though he suspected fate would not be so kind.
Violet punched him in the arm when he said as much, and Jacob laughed so hard he nearly rolled off the bed.
For hours they talked, weaving plans and dreams together—where they’d raise the cub, how they’d balance danger and safety, and what kind of world they wanted to help shape for their child.
Violet surprised them by admitting she wanted to teach their kid to fight early, “before they even lose their baby teeth.” Mason and Jacob both groaned, already picturing a miniature Violet running circles around them with batons.
They reminisced too—about the first time they met her, about the battles they’d won side by side, about the nights they thought they wouldn’t survive. Each memory stitched them tighter together, their laughter and whispered words soothing the scars the war had left.
At one point Violet fell quiet, her head pillowed on Mason’s chest. “What if I mess it up? What if I mess them up?”
Jacob brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. “Then we’ll fix them, together. That’s the point, Vi. We’ll always fix it together.”
Mason kissed her forehead. “And no cub of ours will ever grow up doubting they are loved. That’s more than either of us had. That’s everything.”
The night stretched on, soft and warm. Mason drifted to sleep with his mate snug in his arms and his brother at his back.
For the first time in a long time, he let himself believe that tomorrow could be better—that the three of them could build something lasting in the wreckage of all they had survived.
And as Violet’s breathing evened out between them, Mason whispered into the dark, “Yeah. Let’s have a baby.”
****
Their bed at Pride House was wide enough to hold them all, but Kieran still felt the instinctive need to wrap himself around Josie.
Liam spooned her from the other side, their mate cradled safe between them.
Outside, the night was just beginning, painting the room in dark shadows.
The house was quiet, too quiet after days of chaos and battle.
For once, silence didn’t mean danger—it meant peace.
Josie’s voice was soft in the stillness. “How many?”
Kieran pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Three.”
She tilted her head toward Liam. “What sex?”
Liam chuckled, his Irish lilt wrapping warm around the words. “Two boys and a girl.”
Josie’s eyes softened, her hand drifting to her stomach. “What do we want for them?”
Kieran’s throat tightened. “Safety. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, for us. With Caruso dead, the world is safer than it was. But his backer—the traitor—he’s still out there. That battle will come in its time. For now, we have peace. And we’ll guard it with everything we are.”
Liam kissed Josie’s temple. “And we’ll do it together. The Pride. The ESE. All of us.”
They lay in silence for a while, the steady beat of her heart between them grounding everything.
Then Josie whispered, “Will these three be our only babies?”
Kieran smiled faintly. “Do you want more?”
“Yes. At least two more.”
Liam nearly choked. “Two—bloody hell, woman. You’ll be the death of me.” But his laughter softened the words, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “All right. Two more.”
Josie giggled, and the sound filled Kieran’s chest with warmth. He hadn’t realized until that moment how desperately he needed to hear her laugh like that again.
He shifted slightly so he could see her face. “I want them to grow up never doubting where they belong. I want them to know what it is to be proud of who they are—and to know they’re loved beyond measure.”
Liam added, “And I want them to have choices. We’ll train them, aye, but we’ll never force them to fight. They’ll be warriors if they want, scholars if they want, janitors for all I care. As long as they’re safe and happy.”
Josie reached for his hand, squeezing. “They’ll be everything we couldn’t be. Free.”
Kieran kissed her knuckles, pride swelling in his chest. “Free. That’s the legacy we’ll give them.”
The conversation turned lighter, playful.
They debated names, each suggestion shot down with laughter or groans.
Liam swore he’d fight to the death to prevent one of their sons from being named after his great-uncle Seamus, who was apparently infamous for falling asleep in his soup.
Josie teased that maybe their daughter should be called Violet, which earned a dramatic groan from both lions at the thought of raising a miniature version of their deadly friend.
As the night stretched on, they spoke of the Pride itself.
Kieran admitted he felt hope for the first time in years.
With the ESE working alongside them, with traitors being hunted, with Caruso gone, maybe the children they were bringing into the world would never know the same kind of fear they had grown up with. It was a fragile hope, but it was real.
Josie rolled onto her back and looked at both of them, her hair spilling across the pillows. “I don’t want our cubs to only know safety behind walls. I want them to see the world, to know it’s beautiful too. Not just dangerous.”