Bonus Epilogue
Aubree
It’s nearly ten o’clock at night, and I’m still at Slice Slice Baby.
I don’t usually linger this long, but we had a huge catering order for a graduation party this afternoon, and the kitchen is a disaster—flour footprints from the prep station to the walk-in, half-empty cans of tomatoes stacked by the sink, sauce splattered on the steel counters.
My staff all went home hours ago. I insisted, actually; they worked hard, and I felt like I had enough energy to tidy up alone.
Of course, that was before I realized how late it would be when I finished.
The overhead lights are on half-power, casting a warm glow across the empty dining area.
I take a moment to enjoy the hush. During the day, this place bustles with customers—teens after school, families grabbing a quick bite, even the occasional traveling musician.
It’s my pride and joy, my life’s work. But right now, it’s a quiet sanctuary where I can count the squeaks of my sneakers on tile.
I mop the last sticky patch near the counter, leaning on the handle and blowing a stray curl from my forehead. “Done,” I announce to the empty shop. My voice echoes off the walls. I smile wryly—Boone would tease me for talking to myself again.
Boone. Just thinking his name warms my chest. It’s been a while since he joined me in Nashville with Maddox Security’s new branch, but sometimes I still can’t believe we share a life here—no more living in fear, no more kidnappings or dangerous secrets.
We’re truly free to be together, and it feels surreal.
I shake my head, swallowing a grin as I roll the mop bucket toward the kitchen.
The big overhead clock reads 10:08. He usually checks in if I’m staying late to make sure I’m safe or he begs me to lock up early.
But he hasn’t called tonight, which is odd.
Maybe he’s tied up with a mission briefing or coordinating something for Dean.
He’s got a million responsibilities as the head of the new Nashville office.
Still, the silence makes me a little uneasy.
As if on cue, a sudden noise rattles from the back hallway—like a metal pan crashing to the floor.
My heart leaps. I freeze, gripping the mop handle tight enough to whiten my knuckles.
It’s probably just something shifting on a shelf…
But the memory of being ambushed, months ago, still lingers in my bones.
I set the mop down, forcing calm. “It’s nothing,” I murmur, though my pulse hammers. Another faint sound—like shuffling footsteps—sends a chill through me. Immediately, I pull out my phone.
Scrolling to Boone’s number, I think, Better safe than sorry.
“Aubree? Pull yourself together,” I whisper to myself. Even though I’m armed with new self-defense moves Boone taught me, my heart still spikes with adrenaline whenever I’m startled like this. Just check it out, or call him.
My thumb hovers over the Call button. But before I can press it, the swinging kitchen door pushes open. I jump, nearly dropping the phone.
“Surprise!” a chorus of voices booms from the shadows—voices I recognize. My heart practically catapults out of my chest as the overhead lights flick on to full brightness.
Standing there, half-hidden by the door, is Boone—grinning from ear to ear, a cupcake with a lit candle in his hand.
And behind him is a crowd of familiar faces: Ranger with his arm around Tory, Orion with Briar on his left, Dean and Sophia, Asher and Lincoln, Dean’s sister Isabella, and a handful of other dear friends.
My mother is among them, holding a box of decorations, her eyes shining.
“Happy birthday, Aubree!” Boone exclaims, stepping forward, candle flickering dangerously close to his short hair. He quickly sets it down on the nearest table.
I stare, mouth agape. My pulse is still thrashing from the scare, and now it’s thrashing for a completely different reason—shock, delight, absolute disbelief. “You guys… oh my gosh,” I manage, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared me half to death!”
My mother crosses the tile in a few quick strides, wrapping me in a warm hug. “We’re sorry, darling,” she says, laughing. “But we had to catch you off-guard. It was Boone’s idea.”
Boone slides the cupcake away so he doesn’t accidentally burn something, then shrugs, all sheepish. “Guilty.” But his eyes dance with mischief. “I had to make sure you couldn’t suspect a thing. Hence the silence all day.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “I was about to call you—thought someone broke in! You’re lucky I didn’t throw a rolling pin at your head.”
He grabs the cupcake, holding it out to me. “Make a wish.” He smirks. “And no wishing to hit me with the rolling pin.”
I laugh, and then close my eyes. I’ve got everything I could ever wish for, so I blow out the candle, wishing for more precious moments like this. “Thank you.”
Dean steps forward, Sophia by his side, both looking very pleased with themselves. “We cleared the idea with your mom,” Dean explains, slipping an arm around Sophia’s waist. “Figured you’d be alone this evening.”
Sophia, radiant as ever, nods in agreement. “Besides, we can’t let your birthday slide by without a fuss. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve a real celebration.”
A wave of gratitude and affection floods me. These people—my family, my friends, the security crew—are all here for me. I blink back tears, though I can’t wipe the huge grin from my face. A surprise birthday party, I think, shaking my head in wonder. “You guys are incredible.”
Ranger, his dark hair tousled, smirks. “Yeah, yeah. Enough with the sentiment. Let’s get some pizza going.” He pats Tory’s shoulder, who flashes me a bright smile. “Tory’s been dying to learn your technique.”
I laugh, feeling the tension drain from my body. “Sure, absolutely. Let’s… do you all want to make your own?” My voice brims with excitement. Pizza-making party, it’s a concept so close to my heart. I always loved the communal energy of kneading dough and sprinkling toppings with friends.
“Yes, please,” Orion chimes in, flicking a playful glance at his girlfriend, Briar. She’s tall, with a long brown hair that flows halfway down her back. “Briar claims she can out-pizza me. We’ll see.”
Briar snorts, elbowing him. “Even Jeb can out pizza you, buddy.” Yes. her African-gray parrot, Jeb. He’s a real character.
Smiling ear to ear, I gesture them all toward the back, where the big dough mixer and giant prep tables stand. “Let’s do it! I’ll show you how to knead the dough, shape it, top it. That is, if you’re all prepared to get flour everywhere.”
“We’ve been warned,” Garrett says. He looks slightly more relaxed than usual—back when he first joined Maddox Security Nashville Team, he was always so serious. Now he’s letting Thor talk his ear off about some new training regimen.
Dean laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Sophia’s temple. “We brought wine, by the way. Not sure if it pairs with pizza, but we’ll make do.”
Boone’s eyes meet mine as everyone filters into the kitchen, the tension in my chest replaced by a warm, giddy feeling. I mouth thank you to him. He winks, trailing his fingers down my arm lightly—a simple touch that sends a thrill through me.
Soon, the back kitchen buzzes with chatter and laughter.
We set out bowls of shredded cheese, sauces—marinara, Alfredo, even a pesto option—plus an array of toppings: pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onions, bell peppers, olives, pineapple for the brave.
My mother helps me measure out lumps of dough so everyone can start shaping their own pies.
“Okay,” I say, voice raised to be heard over everything. “First step: flatten the dough into a disc. You can use your hands or a rolling pin. Don’t be shy with the flour.”
Tory, wearing an oversized apron, watches me with wide eyes. “Wait, I do this?” She tries to press the dough with her palms and nearly sticks it to the table. “Oh no, it’s all sticky!”
Ranger laughs. “You’re just not used to getting your hands dirty, Princess.” She swats him with a flour-dusted hand, leaving a white print on his black T-shirt. He yelps, and we all laugh.
Next to them, Orion and Briar engage in a playful dough-throwing war. Briar flicks a pinch of flour at Orion, and he retaliates by tapping her nose with a sauce-dipped finger. “Hey, no fair!” she protests, though her laughter undercuts any real complaint.
Dean and Sophia, more subdued in their mischief, share a single piece of dough, shaping it together. Every so often, I see them pause to whisper or exchange a soft kiss. They look so content—married life suits them perfectly.
Garrett and Thor stand at the far side of the table, quietly following my steps, though Thor occasionally cracks a joke that makes Garrett roll his eyes. They’re an interesting duo—both laser-focused when they want to be, but also comfortable enough to banter.
Isabella, Dean’s sister, edges closer to me with a conspiratorial grin.
“I’ve always wanted to know your secret sauce recipe.
Dean raves about it.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Isabella’s come a long way since we first met—she used to be so guarded, but now she’s blossomed in her own right.
I wave a sauce-stained wooden spoon. “Oh, that’s top secret. But maybe, if you’re nice, I’ll let you watch me make it next time.”
She laughs. “Deal. Just let me handle a ladle or something.”
Boone stands near the dough mixer, arms folded, grinning like a proud conspirator. It’s obvious he’s enjoying this scene—everyone he cares about, all in one place, celebrating my birthday in the simplest, most meaningful way: making pizza.
At one point, my mother sidles up to me, eyes sparkling. She sets down a wine bottle on the metal counter. “I think it’s time we pop one of these open, don’t you?”
I glance at the label—some fancy red blend. “Ooh, yes. Let’s see if it pairs with mozzarella.”