Epilogue
BAILEY - ONE YEAR LATER
The sound of our coffee table scraping across the hardwood makes me wince.
Leon’s going to have a heart attack if Jasper puts another scratch on it.
It’s bad enough they brought the cats over and they’re getting hair all over Leon’s precious keyboards.
It’s actually pretty funny watching Leon with Q-Tips and cans of compressed air trying to keep the spaces between the keys meticulously clean, especially when he can’t help but scoop the kitties up and kiss their little faces when he thinks no one’s looking.
“Careful with that, you animal,” Leon calls from the kitchen, but it’s all in good fun. He’s used to Jasper’s chaos.
“Calm your tits,” Jasper shouts back. “We need the space. Tonight’s serious business.”
I close my textbook, Trauma-Informed Care for Adolescents, and stretch my arms above my head.
I’ve been reading case studies for hours, trying to understand how kids process violence.
It’s been super informative, especially with my firsthand experience as a guide.
I’m hoping to get a jump on my assignments for this semester before mid-terms.
“Bailey, get in here!” Falin yells from the living room. “We need the list.”
The police scanner crackles from its spot on the kitchen counter.
I wish I could say I’ve gotten used to the white noise like everyone else has.
It’s still jarring, but I understand their need to listen for certain keywords.
Leon’s laptop is open next to it, his screen showing surveillance from around town.
Even on fight club night, we’re always working.
“Coming,” I call back, stepping over Havoc, who’s sprawled in the hallway like she owns the place. Mayhem’s perched on the windowsill, tail twitching as she watches a car drive by the semi-busy street.
The living room’s been transformed in the time I’ve been reading.
They pushed the furniture against the walls, rolled up the area rug and shoved it behind the couch, and moved Leon’s prized PlayStation to another room.
They’ve gotten their little monthly ritual down pat.
I still don’t get the need to beat the shit out of each other for fun, but maybe I will after tonight. I have a surprise up my sleeve.
“There’s our bookworm,” Damon says, not looking up from where he’s checking the clip in his gun before setting it on the side table. They all stay armed, even during downtime. “Ready to watch your man get his ass kicked?”
“Leon can handle himself,” I say, settling on the floor next to where Blake’s organizing her first aid kit. She’s gotten scary good at stitching people up since we started this whole thing. Perks of knowing an almost doctor. “What are the stakes tonight?”
“Loser gets the next cleanup duty,” Falin says, cracking her knuckles. “And I’m talking full cleanup. Body disposal, scene scrubbing, evidence burning. The whole fucking nightmare.”
Leon walks in from the bedroom wearing only gym shorts and nothing else. I can’t help but drink in his perfectly sculpted body. Did it suddenly get ten degrees hotter in here?
“All I heard was evidence burning,” he says, heading right toward me. “What kind of shit are you stirring tonight, Falin?”
“The kind that keeps you out of prison, pretty boy,” Falin shoots back with a smirk. “Unless you’d prefer orange jumpsuits to your fancy leather jackets.”
“We’ve got that thing planned for next week,” Damon cuts in, all business. “Someone’s got to deal with the aftermath… and it’s not gonna be me. We have plans. Right, Angel?”
Blake’s cheeks color instantly. “You better win then.”
The “thing” is a child trafficker who’s been operating out of a warehouse downtown near campus.
Leon and the guys have been tracking him for months, building a case that’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.
After a few key Brotherhood members got away scot-free recently, we don’t bother with the law anymore.
“I vote Blake sits this one out,” I say. “She’s got that practical exam coming up.”
“Absolutely not.” Blake stands, rolling her shoulders. “I’ve been dealing with cadavers all semester. I need to hit something that’s not dead.”
Leon meets my gaze with a knowing smirk. “Alright. What are the ground rules?”
“No permanent damage,” Damon says. “We need everyone functional for next week.”
“And no knives,” I add. “The landlord’s already suspicious about the bloodstains.”
Jasper grins, pulling his shirt over his head. “Not even tiny ones?”
Falin slaps him on the back and he fakes a pained howl.
The scanner buzzes to life. We all pause, listening, but it’s a domestic disturbance call. As much as we’d love to intervene, that’s not exactly what we’re looking for. These days, we’re hunting bigger prey.
I pull out my iPad and type out everyone’s names in the random pairing organizer app. After one too many sore losing arguments over the past few months, we keep things completely random now.
“Falin and Jasper, first round,” I announce. “Winner faces me.”
All heads turn my way, clearly shocked. This is the first time I’ve included my name in the mix. I’ve been secretly training with Leon, but no one else knows that.
“Bailey,” Blake says carefully, “are you sure about this?”
“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” I challenge, standing up and pulling off my sweater. Underneath I’m wearing a sports bra, and I catch Leon’s eyes widening slightly as he takes in the muscle definition I’ve built over the past few months. And my chest. Most definitely my chest.
“Oh shit,” Damon mutters. “Bails has been holding out on us.”
Falin’s grinning like a kid on Christmas. “This just got interesting. Hope you’ve been saying your prayers, boys.”
Jasper looks between me and Leon, realization dawning. “You sneaky bastards. How long have you been training her?”
Leon shrugs, but there’s pride in his eyes. “Long enough.”
“Well,” Falin says, stretching her arms, “let’s get this started. You ready, Big Guy?”
“Always ready for you, Trouble.”
Jasper and Falin circle each other in the center of the room while Blake blasts her emo playlist. Those two are all business.
It’s kind of scary really. They’d never actually hurt each other though…
I think. But sometimes there’s this edge to the fights.
We’ve all changed since we started this vigilante shit.
Gotten darker. More unhinged. So I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if things got out of hand.
“Remember,” Damon says, “loser gets to scrub blood off concrete next week.”
“No pressure,” Blake adds with a smirk.
Their fight starts fast and wild. Jasper may have inches on her but Falin’s been training with cops her whole life. Plus, I’m sure Jasper’s trying not to hurt her—although he’d never admit that to Falin.
“Come on, Fal,” I cheer. “Hit him where it hurts.”
She gets him in a chokehold somehow, and her arm locks around his throat. Damn, I should be training with her… She’s incredible.
I swear I see something flicker in her eyes… something similar to the look she’s gotten when she knows she’s about to torture information out of a target.
“Tap out,” she demands.
“Never,” Jasper gasps.
But he’s getting wobbly. We all know what Falin’s capable of when she’s focused. She could put him to sleep if she wanted. Or worse.
Finally, he taps her arm twice and she releases him immediately. He drops to his knees, coughing and massaging his throat.
In a matter of seconds, she’s in front of him and they start kissing. Correction—making out. I groan. “Get a room!”
He’s still my brother and I don’t need a front row seat to how turned on violence gets these two.
“I second that,” Blake says, tossing a roll of gauze at them.
“And I third,” Leon adds. “There’s innocents present.” He cradles Havoc, who fully woke up once she saw the gauze fly across the room.
They pull away, flushed and panting. “I think I hurt myself,” Falin says, cradling her arm in the fakest way. “Jas, come help me to the bedroom.”
“Wow,” Damon says with a laugh. “At least say you’re going to fuck. We can handle it.”
“Uh, speak for yourself.” I toss more gauze at him, earning a laugh from Blake.
“Fine, we’re going to fuck. Bye!” Falin grabs his arm and pulls him toward the staircase.
Lucky for them, they claimed the guest room before Damon and Blake did.
“So,” Leon says, setting Havoc down and standing up. “Your turn, Firefly. You ready for me?”
I smile, and reach up to kiss his chin. “Remember, I don’t want you to go easy on me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, but there’s something in his voice that tells me he’s lying.
We circle each other in the center of the room, my adrenaline spiking even though I know this is only practice. Leon’s got height and reach on me, weight too, but I’ve been training hard. Really hard. And I’ve been watching how they all move, learning from their techniques.
“Ready?” Damon asks.
I nod, keeping my eyes locked on Leon’s. The moment Damon gives the signal, I move fast. Faster than Leon expects. I duck low and drive my elbow toward his ribs. He blocks it, but barely.
“Shit,” Blake breathes. “Bailey’s been busy.”
Leon’s eyes widen with surprise and a hint of pride. “Fuck, where did that come from?”
I grin and come in with another swing, which he blocks. He has that serious look in his eyes now. “Better keep up,” I say, as I come in with a combination we’ve been practicing for weeks.
Somehow we end up on the floor grappling, and I can tell he’s holding back. Every time he gets me in a position where he could end it, he hesitates. It’s sweet, but frustrating as hell.
“Stop it,” I pant when he lets up his guard.
“Stop what?”
“Treating me like a dainty princess.” I break free and scramble back to face him with my hands on my hips. “If you don’t fight me for real, I’ll never get better.”
Leon glances at Damon while rubbing the back of his neck. “Bailey—”
“No. You want me to be part of this world? Then treat me like I belong in it.”
That gets something to shift in his expression. Good. I’ll never learn if they don’t challenge me.
I mount him and go straight for a choke, and I guess my words struck true because he’s not holding back anymore. He bucks me off him, and pins me easily, both of us sweating and breathing hard.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much,” I say, even though I lost. “At least now I know where I actually stand. We need to practice ground fighting more.”
The scanner suddenly comes to life again, but this time what we hear makes us all freeze. “Possible abduction in progress, seventeen-year-old female, last seen near the warehouse district.”
As the dispatcher gives exact coordinates, Leon’s already jumping to his laptop, Damon at his side. “That’s two blocks from our target.”
The playful atmosphere evaporates instantly. We’re back to business.
“Could be connected,” Blake says, already grabbing her medical kit.
“Or it could be something else entirely,” Damon adds, checking his weapon. “Either way, this fucker won’t survive the night.”
From upstairs, Falin’s voice cuts through the conversation. “Are we moving or what? Some of us can multitask.”
“How?” I mutter, pulling on my sweater. “Is there another scanner upstairs?”
My question goes unanswered as everyone prepares.
Leon types furiously, pulling up street cameras and building layouts. “Two black SUVs left the area five minutes ago. Heading toward the highway.”
“That’s not a coincidence,” Damon says, pulling his balaclava from his jacket pocket.
I watch each of them transform from friends having fun to predators in hunting mode. It happens crazy fast—the jokes stop, weapons and masks appear, and suddenly they’re figuring out attack angles and escape routes.
“Bailey,” Leon says, looking away from his screen. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m coming,” I cut him off.
This is who we are now. This is what we do. And somewhere out there, a seventeen-year-old girl is about to become another statistic unless we stop it.
Blake tosses me a balaclava. “I have an extra. Just don’t let Falin get to it… unless you like rhinestones.”
I shake my head and laugh remembering the first time I saw the craft explosion that is Jasper’s mask.
“So who gets cleanup duty?” I ask as we head for the door.
“Looks like we’re all on duty tonight,” Damon says. “But since Jasper and Falin bailed early, I say they get the worst of it.”
“Good luck getting them to agree to that,” Leon says.
The cats barely glance up as we file out. They may not live with Leon and I, but they’re used to their humans randomly leaving at odd hours and coming home smelling like bleach and violence.
“Time to hunt,” Leon says quietly, and we step into the darkness.
Behind us, the apartment falls silent except for the steady buzz of the police scanner, waiting for the next call that’ll send us back out into the night.