EPILOGUE
HAZEL
THE AFTERNOON SUN drapes golden light across the fields, warming the earth as a soft breeze carries the scent of lavender through the air—my sanctuary.
I lean against the wooden fence, phone pressed to my ear, watching Charlie chase butterflies across the wild grass. My hands are smudged with soil from the vegetable patch, but I don’t mind. Dirt under my nails means I’ve spent the day breathing, living.
Mom’s voice crackles over the line, filled with warmth and exasperation all at once.
“So, what’s this big thing you wanted to tell me?”
I swallow, suddenly feeling like a child about to confess to stealing a cookie. “It’s about John.”
A pause. “Oh?”
I take a breath. “Mom… John is gay.”
Silence. Then laughter. Genuine, amused laughter that takes me completely off guard.
“Hazel,” she says between chuckles, “even a blind person would know.”
I straighten. “What? You knew?”
“Oh, sweetheart. Of course, I knew. I gave birth to him. Pushed him right out.”
“Okay, too much detail.”
Another chuckle. “Your father knows also.”
Shock vibrates through me. “And you didn’t say anything?”
“He’ll tell us in his own time,” she says simply. “Your brother is stubborn, but he’s always known we love him.”
I shake my head, realizing for the first time that maybe I’ve underestimated them. I always thought I had to protect John, shield him from their judgment, but I never stopped to consider they might just accept him as he is.
“I should give you guys more credit,” I murmur, watching as Charlie stops chasing butterflies and lifts his head, ears pricked.
Mom hums in agreement. “Yes, you should.”
Charlie barks suddenly, sharp and insistent. My stomach drops—the bread.
“Mom, I have to go—the bread’s in the oven!” I hang up before she can respond and hurry inside, the scent of warm yeast hitting me the moment I step through the door.
I grab a cloth, pull the tin from the oven, and place it on the counter. The crust is golden, crisp, steam curling from the cracks.
A hand clamps over my mouth.
I freeze. My pulse slams against my ribs, breath catching in my throat. The fingers are firm, rough, pressing against my lips. The scent of leather and earth floods my senses.
A low voice whispers against my ear. “Not a sound, Hazel.”
My blood turns to ice.
Charlie’s barking grows frantic outside, his paws scratching against the door. My heart pounds so loud I swear it echoes through the kitchen.
I grip the edge of the counter, body rigid, mind racing.
I know that voice.
And it’s impossible because Kieran has been dead for three months.
Slowly, I turn.
Kieran.
He stands there, real, solid, breathing. My mind struggles to accept what my eyes see. I stumble back, my legs weak beneath me.
He doesn’t move, just watches me, waiting for the storm inside me to settle.
“No. No,” I whisper, shaking my head as if I can will him away. “I was at your funeral.”
Kieran scratches his brow, an old habit. “I'm sorry I put you through that.”
The dam inside me bursts. Fury, grief, disbelief—everything crashes together and explodes out of me.
“You're sorry?” My voice is raw, edged with something close to hysteria. “I was broken. I uprooted my whole life, moved to France because I couldn’t stand the reminder of you. I realized I loved you, Kieran. And ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. My hands tremble at my sides, fists clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms.
When I finally stop shaking, he steps forward, slow, measured.
“I am sorry,” he says, his voice softer now, full of something real. “I didn’t just hurt you. I hurt my sister, too.”
A shadow passes over his face—real pain, deep and unshakable.
“It was the only way I could get out.”
I stare at him, disbelief still thick in my throat. “You could have told me,” I whisper. “I would have told no one.”
Kieran exhales, shaking his head. “They would have known. You're not a good liar.”
I want to argue, but I know he's right. My emotions are too transparent, too raw.
I fold my arms. “Where have you been for the last three months?”
“Hiding. Getting ready so I could tell you.”
My chest tightens. “And your sister? Does she know?”
Kieran's jaw tenses. “I haven't told her yet. I can't. It's too risky.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach churn.
I frown. “How did you find me?”
His lips twitch slightly. “It wasn't hard. Did you get the money?” he asks.
“What money?” but some part of me already knows. I shake my head, exasperated. “Did you leave money to my brother, too?”
His expression doesn't change. “It would have looked suspicious if it was only you.”
Realization slams into me, the pieces finally clicking together. My breath catches.
“The farmer's will...that was you.”
Kieran doesn't deny it.
Everything suddenly makes sense. The money, the timing, the way it felt so impossible. I thought it was fate, some strange twist of luck. But it was Kieran. It was always Kieran.
He exhales slowly. “I've come a long way. Could I kiss you?”
My breath hitches. Heat creeps up my neck, and before I can think, I jump into his arms, holding him tight. “I thought you were dead,” I whisper again.
Kieran presses a kiss on my cheek. “I would never be free of them. And I pretty much was dead.”
I lean back, searching his eyes. Before I can ask what he means, he releases me and lifts his shirt, revealing a scar still red and healing on his side.
“I took a bullet. If not for Lee, I would have died. He got me to a friend of his, a vet. He was able to stabilize me. I paid him to say I died. Lee thinks I’m dead. I needed everyone to think I was dead.”
It's too much. The weight of it all presses down on me. But instead of questioning it, instead of letting the doubt and anger creep back in, I press my lips to his—just to convince myself he's really here, alive.
Tears well in my eyes, but this time, they’re different. Lighter. Hopeful.
I keep my lips pressed to his lips, a kiss filled with relief, love, and promise.
This time, he kisses me back, and I know—I don’t have to run anymore. Neither does he. We’re free.
Together.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed Mafia Crown.
Mafia Kingdom is the next book in the Restless and Wicked series.
Read Marco and Sasha’s story.
You can get your copy HERE
Marco
Power is everything. And in my world, power is built on blood.
I rule this city with a ruthless grip, feared by my enemies and respected by those smart enough to stay in line. But when Sasha Gillespie walks back into my life, desperate and reckless, she shatters my control. She’s asking for my help—dragging me into a war I didn’t start, but it’s one I damn sure intend to finish. The men who dared threaten her family don’t realize they’ve just signed their death warrants.
She thinks she can make a deal with the devil and walk away unscathed.
She’s wrong.
Because once I claim something, I don’t let it go. And Sasha? She was mine long before she even knew it.
Sasha
Marco Walsh is the last man I should run to for help.
Dangerous. Unrelenting. A king carved from blood and brutality. He’s everything I was warned to stay away from—everything I swore I’d never be a part of. But when my father’s debts come due, and my little sister’s life is on the line, I don’t have a choice.
Now, I’m trapped in his world, where mercy is a weakness and love is a liability. He says he’ll protect me, but the price is steep. A single favor, a night on his arm…a deal I can’t refuse.
I should be terrified.
But the most dangerous part of all?
I’m not sure I want to escape.