EPILOGUE
Jez
ELEVEN MONTHS AFTER Knox arranged the reunion with my mother in St. Louis, we were on the other side of an ocean—wandering along a beautiful walking trail in a quaint southern European town outside of Lisbon.
Late afternoon sun painted everything gold.
To my right, Tony kept pace while wheeling our baby girls in a double stroller.
To my left, Emma Hope—one of our neighbors—strode effortlessly along the paved path in a pair of stylish four-inch heels.
Her designer sunglasses glinted in the slanting light.
Emma, a former fashion model, was one of two omegas mated to the Rosencranz pack, who lived part-time in a mansion down the road from ours.
Gabriel Rosencranz—Knox’s acquaintance who had originally suggested Portugal as a good place to retire—was allegedly even richer than Knox himself.
His pack jet-setted back and forth between New York and the village of Reguengo Grande several times a year with their three children.
The triplets, two girls and a boy, ran in and out of the trees ahead of us, shouting excitedly.
“I d-dread to think how difficult it’s going to be keeping those three corralled during their teenage years,” Emma said wryly, a faint stutter marring her fancy English accent.
I chuckled, my gaze darting to my two beautiful babies as they cooed and waved their tiny fists in the stroller.
“Believe me, I’m not taking things for granted.
We may not be getting much sleep these days, but I have no doubt that changing diapers and filling bottles is a lot easier than navigating adolescent dating drama and social media restrictions. ”
Emma let out an amused snort at odds with her polished appearance. “Oh, you have no idea.”
Behind us, my mother laughed loudly at something her companion, an androgynous, dark-skinned alpha named Onyx, had said to her.
I couldn’t help smiling as I glanced back at the pair trailing us.
Not only had Mom moved here with us; she’d also made good on her promise to learn Portuguese faster than any of us.
Having her here had been invaluable when it came to making me feel less overwhelmed and incompetent as a parent.
She looked so much better now than when I’d first seen her again, waiting for us in our St. Louis hotel room. Not only physically healthier, with her gaunt face and body filled out thanks to plenty of good food, sunshine, and gentle exercise—but also happier.
We all were.
She saw me looking and winked at me before turning back to her conversational partner. Emma, who’d followed my gaze, smiled at the pair as well.
“Have you decided to stay here permanently, then?” Emma asked. “It’s such a beautiful place... I just can’t quite seem to let go of New York. Not yet, anyway.”
“We’re planning on staying for the next few years, at least,” I said. “It might not be forever, but I do like the idea of putting down roots in a place that doesn’t have a bunch of baggage attached.”
Emma gave a thoughtful nod. “Oh, I understand completely. That’s exactly how Gabriel and I feel about London.”
“I think it helps that we don’t own a successful modelling agency back in the States, like you do,” Tony joked.
“There is something to be said for that.” Emma adjusted the rolled cuffs of her fashionable chiffon blouse. “I’m not ready to give up the rat race quite yet, but I c-could see myself changing my mind in a few more years.”
It had taken me the better part of a year to make the transition from scrabbling for every crumb of food and constantly scanning for danger, to living with no worries beyond interior decorating choices and the occasional bout of baby colic.
I wasn’t sure if that meant I could relate to what she was saying, or if it just meant I needed more therapy.
“I’m becoming a big fan of being a rich man’s kept omega,” I told her, because that much was certainly true.
“Seconded,” Tony said. “I mean, except for not being an omega, obviously.”
The sound of heavy footsteps closing fast from behind us had me turning sharply as old instincts surged to the fore. Onyx had whirled as well, placing their body protectively between our group and the person approaching.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, feeling a familiar presence through the mating bond. “It’s Heath.”
Onyx relaxed as a tall, red-haired figure jogged up to us.
“Out for an afternoon jog, mate?” they asked dryly, their Australian accent broadening the vowels. “Sounds like you could use a bit more cardio than you’re getting these days.”
Heath leaned over and waved a hand, getting his breath back. “Yeah, yeah. Very funny, Crocodile Dundee.” He straightened, turning his attention to Tony and me. “Come back to the house. There’s news about the sentencing.”
After some quick goodbyes to Emma and Onyx, the four of us returned home as fast as a group of people wheeling a pair of two-month-olds could manage.
“How long are they going to prison for?” Tony asked, power-walking behind the stroller. “Did they say yet?”
“Dunno,” Heath replied grimly. “Gage is recording the news feed. I came to get you as soon as we heard they were about to hand down the sentences. I expect Knox is on the phone with his lawyers as we speak.”
We’d been waiting on federal sentencing in the Vozzina case for what felt like ages. The case itself dragged on for months. But Paolo testifying against them, combined with all the evidence Knox’s lawyers had dug up, meant that a guilty verdict had been more or less a foregone conclusion.
The sentencing... not so much.
Tony and I went back and forth between following the trial obsessively and trying to pretend it didn’t exist. Even Knox had been taken aback by the sheer scope of what Lorenzo Vozzina had been doing.
There was no real way to find out if I’d been in Vozzina’s pipeline or someone else’s when I’d been trafficked as a kid.
Knox hadn’t let any of our names get dragged into the trial, which meant I would probably never know for sure.
But as more and more information came out, it seemed increasingly likely.
The Vozzina pack’s victims didn’t number in the dozens, or even the hundreds.
They numbered in the thousands.
Canada... Mexico... Central and South America... Africa... kidnapped omegas came into the country by boat, by semi, and by train. Some were sold locally. Some were sold to rich perverts overseas, in Asia and the Middle East. Many simply seemed to disappear without a trace.
The numbers—the unbelievable scale of suffering—was mind-boggling.
As predicted, Knox was talking on his cell phone when we piled into the entryway. He gestured us toward the media room with a serious expression, but added a reassuring thumbs-up as we passed.
In the stroller, Julia began to cry fitfully. Heath scooped her up and cradled her against his broad shoulder, patting her back soothingly. My mother lifted her sister Mariah into her arms, shushing her as she, too, began to fuss.
Gage was waiting for us inside the dark-panelled room with one wall taken up by a massive flat-screen TV. A frozen scene of a reporter standing outside an official-looking building stared out at us.
“Oh, you guys are gonna love this,” he greeted. “Settle in and enjoy the show.”
He leaned over and took Mariah from my mother, bouncing gently on his toes to quiet her. With his free hand, he tapped the trackpad on his laptop, and the scene on the TV began to play.
The reporter lifted a hand to her earpiece. “We’re outside the US Court for the Northern District of Illinois, and I’ve just received word that the sentencing for the co-conspirators in the high-profile Vozzina omega trafficking case is about to be handed down.”
She paused, listening through her earpiece. I bit my lower lip hard enough to hurt, my hand creeping toward Tony, who took it in his and squeezed. My mother grabbed my other hand, standing close enough that our shoulders brushed.
“On count one, trafficking of minors across state lines for the purposes of prostitution, the sentence is life in prison without parole.”
My breath caught in my lungs for a second before escaping explosively.
“One count two, conspiracy to commit human trafficking, the sentence is life in prison without parole.” Another pause.
“On count three, conspiracy to commit money laundering in an amount above one hundred million dollars, the sentence is fifteen years and a fine of one hundred fifty million dollars. On count four...”
We listened, rapt, as the sentences piled up, one on top of the other. After several minutes, the reporter gave a decisive nod and lowered her hand from her ear.
“Sentences to be served consecutively, not concurrently,” she finished. “Back to you in the newsroom, Todd.”
Gage lowered the volume as the camera cut back to a man seated behind a desk, who started talking about the historic nature of the trial and the severity of the sentencing.
I let go of Tony’s hand and felt behind me for the couch before sinking onto it heavily.
Mom followed me down, still holding my other hand.
“Well,” Tony said faintly. “I guess that’s that.”
Movement in the doorway caught my attention. Knox braced a hand against the doorframe, a grim smile on his face.
“So it is,” he agreed. A look of deep satisfaction glinted in his gaze. “I suppose someone should have warned Paolo up front that there’s no federal death penalty for human trafficking.”
Gage grunted. “Guess he’s going to need that glandectomy after all. At least, he will if he doesn’t want to be bonded to a jailbird for the next several decades.”
I tried not to take satisfaction in the idea of Paolo listening in horror to the sentencing, realizing that he was about to be stuck with a miserable asshole inside his head after all.
“Maybe one of the state trials will involve a gas chamber or an electric chair,” Heath said. “There are still a few other jurisdictions going after him, aren’t there?”
“There are,” Knox confirmed. “But as of today, the Vozzina pack is officially someone else’s problem. Lorenzo and his lackeys are out of our lives forever.”
A tremor shuddered through me as an invisible, crushing weight lifted from my shoulders, leaving me lightheaded. Three presences inside my head crowded closer, humming with comfort and satisfaction.
“Are you okay, baby?” my mother asked, her fingers giving mine a grounding squeeze.
I licked my lips and swallowed a couple of times, not sure if my voice was going to cooperate or not.
“I think...” I began. “I think I’m more okay than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“I think maybe we all are,” Tony agreed.
Knox’s smile widened as he picked up the remote and powered the TV screen off. He moved in front of me and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.
“The good news is,” he said, “this is just baseline levels of ‘okay.’ From here. it only gets better.”
“Right?” Gage said, stroking Mariah’s wisp of red hair with a fingertip. “I bet if we try, the eight of us can do way better than just being okay.”
Mom bumped my shoulder with hers. “I’m game if you all are.”
“Seconded,” Tony agreed.
“Hear, hear,” Heath agreed. He smiled down at Julia, rocking her in his arms. She reached up, wrapping a chubby fist in his beard.
I closed my eyes as her happy burble joined her sister’s, filling the room with all the beautiful possibilities of a future filled with love, safety, and family.