epilogue
One Year Later
Blair
I’m still mouthing off to the refs in the regional league, but at least now they know my name before they start yelling at me.
Life is… stupidly good.
Sol is still head trainer at Knotlocke, creating and running the women’s MMA team, plus the occasional “I feel like terrorizing Blair’s old teammates” wrestling oversight when she gets bored.
She walks the mats like she owns them, every single athlete on both teams still half in love with her and half terrified.
She’s never been written up once. The dean learned his lesson after the third time he tried.
Roxie came back as an assistant coach under Sol.
She runs the women’s striking program now, and the girls on her team are already monsters.
She still fights exhibition matches on the weekends just to keep sharp.
I’ve watched her submit three different opponents this year with that same quiet, terrifying focus that made me fall stupidly in love with her in the first place.
And me?
I wrestle in a regional pro league now. Good enough that scouts keep sliding into my DMs, but I keep opening my mouth at the wrong time and getting warned by officials. Some things never change.
Tonight is a random Tuesday, no match, no nothing.
I’m in the Knotlocke gym, the one I basically bought with the last big check I dropped on the program, practicing alone.
The place still smells like rubber mats and old sweat and home.
I’m drilling shots, sweating through my singlet, when the side door bangs open.
Roxie walks in barefoot, tape already wrapped around her knuckles, that permanent half-smirk locked in place. She doesn’t say a word. She just steps onto the mat, circles me once, and takes me down in fifteen seconds flat.
My back hits the mat with a familiar slap as her forearm presses across my throat, her thighs pinning my hips to the floor, her body flush against mine.
She leans down and kisses me thoroughly, her tongue sliding against mine like she’s got all night.
I grin up at her like the idiot I am, my hands sliding up her back under her hoodie.
She pulls back just far enough to look me in the eye. “Your form is still terrible, Reyes.”
A cackle bubbles up from my throat as I hook a hand behind her neck to drag her back down.
The kiss turns filthy fast, all teeth and tongue and the familiar taste of her that still makes my head spin even after a year.
My legs wrap around her waist, my heels digging into the small of her back, and I roll my hips up just to feel her growl against my mouth.
I catch a whiff of Sol’s scent, breaking the kiss just long enough to glance over at her. “You gonna come help her fix my form, Coach?”
Sol takes a slow sip of her coffee, my Alpha leaning against the entrance of her office. “Maybe later. I’m enjoying the show.”
Roxie nips at my bottom lip, then the bite on the right side of my throat that she left last year. “He’s still a brat.”
“Always will be,” Sol says, stepping onto the mat finally. She sets her coffee on the edge and drops down beside us, one big hand sliding into my hair while the other rests on Roxie’s back. “Lucky for us.”
I grin up at both of them, my heart so full it feels like it might crack open.
The dean still bickers under his breath about our relationship, though there’s nothing he can do now.
And since I graduated, there’s been multiple relationships with differing power dynamics as if my relationship with my Alphas broke something wide open.
None of it matters. Not really.
Because every single day, I get to wake up between them. Every single day I get to be theirs.
And they get to be mine.
I tug Sol down by her braid until she’s kissing me too, Roxie’s mouth on my neck, the bond between us humming with warmth.