34. Epilogue - Ghost
The smell of sawdust and fresh paint is the scent of a new beginning.
I stand in the middle of the kitchen, a damp rag in my hand, wiping down the marble of the massive center island.
It’s been eight months of grinding, of pulling every string I had with contractors and city inspectors, and burning through a significant chunk of my savings to fast-track the process.
It was worth every cent.
Bear is across the room, buffing out a smudge on the floorboards with his boot. He’s been here every weekend, helping me with the finishing touches.
“Walk with me,” I say, tossing my rag aside. I want to see it all one last time before the furniture trucks start rolling in next week.
I lead him toward the back of the house. “This is the main artery for us,” I say, gesturing to the heavy door. “The back entrance leads straight into the mudroom. Angel doesn’t want the kids tracking mud or bike grease through the main house.”
The mudroom is spacious, fitted with custom cubbies for boots and jackets.
From there, it opens up into the heart of the home—the massive, open-concept kitchen and living area.
It’s designed in the modern farmhouse style Angel fell in love with.
The kitchen island is a beast, long enough to fit eight bar stools.
I can already see it—mornings with the sun streaming in, coffee brewing, and eventually, a line of kids eating cereal while Angel moves through the space.
“Look at that window,” I point to the wide glass over the farmhouse sink. Through it, the ten acres of land roll out, and the area where Angel is already planning the vegetable garden is clear. “She wanted to be able to see the garden while she works.”
I lead him to the living area, where a massive sliding glass door takes up most of the wall. I slide it open with a smooth, silent glide. “I picture these being open all summer. Let the air in, let the kids run in and out while they play in the yard.”
We head back toward the front. There’s a small entrance hallway for guests, a neat half-bath, and a secluded guest room off to the side for whenever Oliver or one of the brothers need a place to crash. Then, I lead him up the wide staircase.
“Five bedrooms up here,” I say as we reach the landing. “Two bathrooms. One for the hallway, and then our suite.”
I push open the double doors to the master bedroom.
It’s the largest room in the house, overlooking the lake.
But the real features are the two rooms connected directly to it.
I point to the left. “Walk-in closet for her. She’s got more clothes than I have ammunition.”
Then I point to the right, at a heavy, soundproofed door with a deadbolt. “And that. That’s for us.”
Bear raises an eyebrow. “The play room?”
“The play room,” I confirm. I’ve already started ordering the equipment. “I hate taking her to Onyx. I can’t stand the way the other men look at her, even with my collar on her neck. Here, I can do whatever I want to her, and the only person who’ll hear her beautiful screams is me.”
We head back downstairs and take a seat at the kitchen island. I pull out two cold beers from the small fridge we hooked up earlier. We sit in silence for a moment, just soaking in the quiet of the woods.
“I’m happy for you, D,” Bear says suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
He looks at me, his eyes full of a history only the two of us share.
“I mean it. After that trailer park... after all the shit we grew up in... I didn’t think either of us would ever get a view like this. You’re thriving, man. You’ve got the woman, the house. You’ve outrun the past.”
I take a long pull of my beer, looking at the reflection of the trees in the marble.
“I didn’t think it was possible either. I spent the last fifteen years thinking the only thing waiting for me was a shallow grave or a prison cell.”
I look at him. “I hope you find this, J. This kind of peace. I wish everything for you that I’ve found for myself.”
Bear smiles, a genuine, rare expression that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I hope so too, brother. Maybe one day.”
The front door swings open, and the atmosphere in the room instantly brightens. Angel walks in, looking radiant in a sundress that catches the light. She’s been at the clubhouse with Grace, but the second she sees the house, her face lights up.
“Hi, Bear!” she calls out, before walking straight to me. She leans in, and I catch her waist, pulling her between my knees for a long, slow kiss.
“Place looks amazing, Angel,” Bear says, grinning at us.
“I can’t wait to move in,” she says, her eyes sweeping the room. “We’re going to have a housewarming party. Grace is already making a guest list.”
Bear chuckles. “I still can’t believe you and Grace are both old ladies now. Seems like just yesterday you were the kids we were trying to keep out of the garage.”
Angel scrunches her nose. “We’ve decided we’re calling ourselves the ‘Young Ladies.’ We don’t exactly fit in with the older crew anyway. I love Ella, Caroline, Kasia.. but they practically raised me. Sitting around them.. It’s a bit weird.”
Bear laughs. “I noticed you two huddled in the corner at the last run. Doc’s gonna have a heart attack if you start a revolution.”
He stands up, stretching his massive frame.
“Anyway, I gotta get back to the clubhouse. Stone wants a word. You should probably head over soon too, Ghost.”
He turns back to Angel. “Oh, and we’re patching Oliver in tonight. Finally.”
Angel claps her eyes, a look of pure joy on her face. “Finally! He’s worked so hard.”
“Don’t tell him,” Bear warns with a wink. “The kid thinks he’s still on probation.”
Oliver has been a machine since he arrived.
When he realized he couldn’t finish his UK medical degree here without starting over, he didn’t complain.
He just pivoted. He’s been Doc’s shadow in the infirmary, and his skills are lightyears beyond anything we’ve had before.
He’s saved three brothers on the operating table already.
He’s found a place where he belongs, and seeing him get his patch tonight... it’s the final piece of the puzzle.
“I need Ghost for a little bit longer,” Angel says, sliding her arms around my neck and looking at me with a look that makes my blood simmer. “He’ll be there later.”
Bear makes a loud gagging noise. “God, you two. Get a room. Oh wait, you have five of them.”
I playfully smack him on the shoulder as I walk him to the door. “Get out of here, Bear.”
Once the roar of Bear’s bike fades into the distance, the house is silent again. Angel doesn’t let go of my hand. She leads me toward the stairs.
“I want to show you something,” she whispers.
She takes me to the bedroom right next to ours, the one with the best morning light. We stand in the center of the empty room.
“I want this to be the nursery,” she says, her voice low and sweet. “It’s the closest to us. I want to be able to hear them when they wake up.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her back against my chest. I rest my chin on her shoulder, looking at the empty walls. “A nursery, huh?”
“How many babies do you want, Damien?” she asks, turning in my arms to face me.
I grin, my hands sliding down to rest on her hips. “At least five. But honestly? As many as you’ll give me. I want this house to be loud. I want the family I never had, Angel.”
She smiles at me, a soft, secret sort of smile that makes my heart skip. She reaches up, cupping my face with her hands.
“Good,” she breathes. “Because in roughly nine months, we’re having the first one.”
I freeze. My brain, usually so sharp and fast, stutters. I look at her, searching her eyes. “Wait. What?”
“I’m pregnant, Damien,” she whispers, her eyes welling with tears.
An eruption of pure, unadulterated joy hits me like a freight train. I let out a rough, choked-off laugh and hoist her into the air, spinning her around. I bury my face in her neck, holding her so tight I’m afraid I’ll break her.
“A baby,” I rasp, the word feeling like a miracle. “My baby. Ours.”
I deposit her onto the wide wooden window sill, her sundress bunching around her thighs. The light from the setting sun bathes her in gold. I look at her—my wife, the mother of my child, the woman who saved me from the dark.
The need for her hits me with a raw, primal intensity. I don’t want the play room right now. I don’t want the toys or the leather. I want her. I want to feel the life we’re creating.
“You’re going to be so beautiful pregnant,” I growl, my hands sliding up her legs. I part her knees, stepping between them. “I’m going to keep you like this. I’m going to fill you up again and again until this whole floor is full of our kids.”
“Damien,” she moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I lift her dress.
I don’t waste time. I unbuckle my belt, my eyes locked on hers. I want her to see the devotion in me. I want her to see that she is my entire world.
I enter her with a slow, heavy thrust that makes her arch her back and cry out my name. It’s not just sex; it’s a claim. It’s a vow. I move in her with a rhythmic, desperate strength, my hands framing her face so I can kiss her deeply, tasting her tears and her joy.
“You’re mine,” I mutter against her lips, my voice a dark, possessive rumble. “Every inch of you. This house, this life, this baby... it’s all mine because you chose me.”
“I’ll always choose you,” she gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper.
I fuck her there, against the window of the house we built, overlooking the land that belongs to us. I’m completely, hopelessly in love.
When I climax, it’s a shattering, total surrender. I pour everything I am into her—all my past pain, all my future hopes, all my love. I hold her against me, our hearts beating in a frantic, synchronized rhythm.
We stay like that for a long time as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the room into a soft, purple twilight. I lean my forehead against hers, my breath finally evening out.
“We should go,” she whispers eventually, her hand stroking my hair. “You have a patch to give Oliver.”
I kiss her one last time—a soft, lingering promise. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
I help her down, smoothing her dress. As we walk out of the house and back toward the bike, I look back at the farmhouse one last time. The windows are dark, but in my mind, they’re already glowing with light.