45. Epilogue
Epilogue
Three months have passed since the night my stalker died.
It's strange how quickly life can settle into a new normal.
The police investigation into Levi's murder went cold within weeks—no fingerprints, no witnesses, no evidence pointing to any suspect.
Detective Rivera still gives me skeptical looks whenever our paths cross, but even she had to admit they had nothing concrete to pursue.
When they searched Levi's apartment, what they found chilled me to my core. Every wall was covered with photographs of me—candid shots from years ago, recent ones from outside the café, even screenshots from my streams. A meticulous chronicle of my life through his obsessive lens.
But the photographs weren't the worst part. Hidden in a locked room, they discovered trophies—personal items taken from women who had gone missing over the years. Women who looked like me. Women whose cases had gone unsolved until now.
Agent Voss visited me not long after the party, her questions pointed and relentless. There was an undertone of rage in her voice when she asked about Levi, a personal edge that made me wonder about her connection to the case.
"Did you see who killed him?" she asked for the third time, her pen poised over her notebook.
"No," I repeated, the lie coming easily now. "It was dark, and everything happened so quickly."
Her eyes narrowed, disbelief evident in her expression. "You understand that withholding information in a federal investigation is a crime, Miss Cain."
"I'm telling you what I know," I insisted, meeting her gaze steadily.
When I asked about my brother, her look turned glacial. "We're here to discuss Levi Matthews, not other matters," she said, shutting down that line of conversation completely.
She left with a warning that we would speak again, but so far, she hasn't returned. I sometimes wonder about her relationship with my brother.
After the launch party drama, I worried that the scandal would overshadow the Wasteland Chronicles expansion, derailing Jace and Theo's plans for independence.
But once again, Theo was right—the publicity only fueled interest. Sales broke records in the first week, and the gaming press couldn't get enough of the "cursed" launch party where a marketing executive was murdered.
The success gave Jace and Theo the financial cushion they needed to leave Nexus Gaming and start their own company.
They called it Silent Bird Games—a nod to both my online persona and my real name that only the three of us would truly understand.
What was once my masks have now become our shared banner.
Their first act as independent business owners was buying the café Grounded when the owners put it on the market.
After all, who wants to own the scene of a grisly murder?
Well, except maybe us. They're renovating it now, planning to turn the upstairs into an office space for the new company while keeping the café running on the ground floor.
Maya now manages the place, though she's hired more staff so she can focus on her true passion—makeup artistry. The dramatic look she created for me at the launch party caught the attention of several people in the industry, and she's been booking freelance gigs ever since.
As for me, I finally gave up my apartment.
We all moved into Theo's place—because who doesn't love the luxury of a concierge who will buy hair extensions for you late at night without question?
The three of us have fallen into a comfortable rhythm, our lives intertwining so completely it's hard to remember a time when we were separate.
But that doesn't mean I gave up camming. If anything, I've embraced it more fully, no longer seeing it as just a necessary source of income but as something I genuinely enjoy. A space where I have complete control, where I can be bold in ways I never could before.
Lighting a candle, I adjust its position to cast the perfect glow across my workspace. The lighting is crucial—soft enough to be flattering but bright enough to highlight the details my subscribers pay to see.
I adjust my mask, the jewels catching the light as I turn my head from side to side. The silky strands of the black wig slide between my fingers as I trail them down over my shoulders, continuing the path across the lace of my lingerie.
With everything perfectly arranged, I hit the stream button on my laptop. Almost immediately, the chat begins to fill with greetings and comments from regular subscribers.
SilverTongue69: Looking gorgeous tonight Vanta
DarkHeart: That new lingerie is HOT
MidnightRider: Can we see a slow turn please?
I smile behind my mask, playing with the strands of my wig as I read their messages. This part always amuses me—the power dynamic so clearly in my favor despite what they might believe. But one big thing has changed now.
"Good evening, gentlemen," I purr, my voice husky and confident through the voice modulator. "I've missed you."
More comments flood in, along with the first wave of tips. I let my hands wander, tracing the curve of my waist before sliding up to cup my breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze that elicits a fresh round of appreciative messages.
ObsidianWolf has tipped $200: Show us how much you've missed us
NeedleAndVice has tipped $300: Touch yourself the way we would
I can't help but flick my eyes across the living room to where Jace and Theo are sitting on the couch, watching me with identical grins on their faces. Jace's laptop is open on his lap, and beside him, Theo has his phone out.
This has become our favorite game—me performing for an audience of strangers while they watch from just beyond the camera's view, participating as anonymous users among the crowd. The thrill of our shared secret never gets old.
I arch my back slightly, letting my fingers trail lower. "For you, ObsidianWolf," I murmur, knowing exactly how my words will affect Jace. "And you too, NeedleAndVice. Such generous supporters deserve a special reward."
Theo's grin widens as he types something into his phone. A moment later, his message appears in the chat:
NeedleAndVice has tipped $500: Take something off. Slowly.
I laugh, the sound deliberately sensual. "So impatient tonight."
Jace's contribution follows immediately:
ObsidianWolf has tipped $700: Show us what's underneath
The bidding war between them is as amusing as it is arousing.
They've turned this into a competition, each trying to outdo the other with increasingly generous tips and more explicit requests.
The other users in the chat have no idea they're watching two men fight for the attention of a woman they already share.
I reach for the clasp of my bra, making a show of slowly unhooking it. "Since you asked so nicely..."
As I continue my performance, I reflect on how much has changed in just a few months. The woman I was before—silent, frightened, trapped in her own mind—seems like a stranger to me now. I've reclaimed my voice, my body, my life.
The fear hasn't completely disappeared. I still wake sometimes from nightmares where Levi's hands are around my throat. I still check locks twice, still startle at unexpected sounds. But the difference is that now, I don't face those fears alone.
And sometimes, when I'm alone on the balcony late at night, I could swear I feel someone watching—not with Levi's possessive hunger, but with my brother's protective vigilance. I haven't seen Lucien since that night, but I know he's out there.
I should be terrified by that knowledge, but instead, it brings a strange comfort. My brother is a monster, yes—but he's my monster. And in this world of wolves and predators, sometimes you need a monster on your side.
For now, though, I focus on the present moment—on the candlelight dancing across my skin, on the appreciative comments filling the chat, on Jace and Theo watching me from across the room.
Jace's hand has slipped beneath the waistband of his joggers, his movements subtle but unmistakable.
Theo's palm rubs slow circles over the growing bulge in his jeans, his eyes never leaving mine.
I slide the bra straps down my shoulders slowly. Theo's breath catches audibly; Jace's hand stills momentarily before resuming its rhythm. This is power. This is freedom. This is reclamation.
And as I let the garment fall away completely, I'm struck by a simple truth: happiness can find you in the strangest of places.
Sometimes it takes breaking apart completely to discover who you truly are—and who will love you, not despite your broken pieces, but because of how beautifully you've put yourself back together.
I blow a kiss to the camera, knowing it's really meant for the two men whose breathing has grown heavier, whose movements have become more urgent. "Now," I purr, "who wants to see what comes next?"
Their simultaneous tips make me laugh—a genuine sound of joy that no amount of voice modulation can disguise. Theo groans softly in response, while Jace bites his lower lip.
This is my life now—complicated, unconventional, and absolutely mine.