Epilogue - Evelyn
Two years later...
"Jackson, can you grab his stuffed wolf? I forgot it in the bedroom."
My husband, still strange to think of him that way after two years, nods and disappears down the hallway of our private quarters. I adjust our son on my hip, smiling as his pudgy hands reach for my hair.
"No, Jamie," I chide gently, catching his wrist. "We talked about this. No pulling Mommy's hair."
He grins, all gums and Jackson's gray eyes, too young to understand but old enough to know he's being adorable. I can't help but smile back. A year ago today, after thirty-eight hours of labor, Jamie Kane came into the world with his father's stubbornness and my determination.
Today is his first birthday, and the entire club has gathered to celebrate.
Jackson returns with the stuffed wolf—Jamie's favorite toy—and hands it to our son, who immediately stuffs one ear into his mouth.
"Ready?" Jackson asks, his hand finding the small of my back.
"As I'll ever be."
We step out of our private quarters into the main area of the clubhouse, which has been transformed for the occasion.
Balloons and streamers hang from the ceiling.
A banner reading "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMIE" stretches across one wall.
The bar where I worked for six months before getting pregnant has been converted into a buffet laden with food.
And everywhere, Outlaw Order.
They rise as we enter, these dangerous men who have become family. Blade approaches first, extending a tattooed finger for Jamie to grab.
"There's the little prospect," he says with a rare smile. "Getting bigger every day."
The others come forward one by one—Ghost with his quiet nod, Ace with his boisterous laugh, Viper with a wrapped package, Wilder with a handmade wooden toy.
The club members' girlfriends cluster around, cooing over Jamie, offering congratulations and birthday wishes. These women who once intimidated me have become friends, confidantes, sisters in a world most outsiders would never understand.
"Need help with anything?" one asks, her hand resting over her own growing belly.
"Everything's perfect," I assure her. "Just enjoy."
And it is perfect. Two years ago, I couldn't have imagined this life. Couldn't have dreamed of safety, of belonging, of family. I had been too broken, too damaged, too convinced that happiness wasn't meant for people like me.
"Evelyn!"
I turn to see Emma pushing through the crowd, her smile bright, her arms already reaching for her half-brother. At twenty-one, she's finished her criminology degree and is preparing for the FBI academy—a path Jackson supports with fierce pride, despite the irony.
"Let me see the birthday boy," she demands, taking Jamie from my arms. He goes willingly, recognizing the sister who FaceTimes with him almost daily.
"He's getting so big," she marvels, bouncing him gently. "Dad's genes for sure."
"Poor kid," Jackson mutters, earning a playful glare from both of us.
The relationship between father and daughter has healed slowly over these two years.
Emma still keeps one foot firmly outside club life even though she’s been dating a member for two years, and she even visits more often now.
Calls regularly. Has begun to forgive Jackson for being exactly who he needed to be.
She claims I'm partly responsible for the reconciliation.
"He's different with you," she told me once. "Still Reaper when he needs to be, but more Jackson than I've seen since I was little."
A crash from the kitchen interrupts my thoughts, followed by cursing and laughter. Probably one of the prospects attempting to help and making more mess than progress.
"I'll check on that," Jackson says, kissing my temple before heading toward the commotion, his president's authority evident in the straightening of shoulders as he passes.
Emma sidles closer, Jamie babbling happily in her arms. "So," she says with a smile, "have you told him yet?"
My hand drifts unconsciously to my still-flat stomach. "Tonight. After the party."
She squeals quietly, slowly not to alarm Jamie. "He's going to be thrilled. He loves being a dad."
"I know." I watch Jackson across the room, directing the cleanup with the same precision he uses to run the club. "I never thought I'd have this, you know? After everything... I didn't think I deserved it."
Emma's expression softens. "If anyone deserves happiness, it's you, Evelyn. You saved him as much as he saved you."
Before I can respond, the clubhouse door bangs open. We all tense—old habits die hard in this life—but it's just one of the prospects who earned his full patch last month.
"Sorry I'm late," he announces, holding up a colorfully wrapped package. "Little man's present took longer than expected."
The tension dissolves into laughter and ribbing. I watch as Jackson claps him on the shoulder, accepting the gift with a nod of approval.
Two years ago, such a casual entrance might have triggered my flight response, sent me hiding in a corner or reaching for a weapon. Now, I simply smile and continue my conversation.
"How's apartment hunting going?" I ask Emma, bouncing Jamie when he starts to fuss.
"Good. Found a place in Quantico for after academy training. Small, but mine." She hesitates. "Dad wants to pay for it, but..."
"But you want to do it yourself," I finish for her. "He understands that better than you think. Independence matters to him too."
She nods. "Sometimes I forget he was my age once. That he had dreams beyond the club."
"He still does," I tell her. "Just different ones now."
Jackson returns, taking Jamie from his sister. "What are you two conspiring about?" he asks, narrowing his eyes playfully.
"Nothing," we answer in unison, then laugh at our synchronized response.
"Right," he drawls, clearly not believing us. "Well, Blade says it's time for cake before this little wolf gets too cranky."
The celebration continues. Cake smashed more than eaten by the birthday boy, presents opened with parental assistance, stories shared of the past year's milestones and mishaps.
Later, after the party winds down and the clubhouse empties of all but the most dedicated revelers, Jackson and I retreat to our quarters. Jamie, exhausted from the excitement and sugar, falls asleep almost immediately in his crib.
We stand watching him sleep, Jackson's arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder.
"He's perfect," Jackson murmurs, his voice thick with an emotion he no longer tries to hide from me.
"He is," I agree. "And he's going to be a wonderful big brother."
Jackson freezes, then slowly turns me to face him. "What did you just say?"
I smile up at him, suddenly nervous despite knowing how he'll react. "I'm pregnant. About eight weeks along."
His face transforms. Shock, joy, wonder cycling in rapid succession. Then he lifts me off my feet, spinning me in a circle that makes me giggle like a teenager.
"Careful," I caution, though I'm not truly worried. "You'll wake the baby."
"The baby," he repeats, setting me down gently. His hand moves to my stomach, spanning it entirely. "Another boy?"
"Or a girl," I suggest. "Might be nice for Jamie to have a sister."
"Boy or girl, doesn't matter." He kneels suddenly, pressing his lips to my still-flat belly. "Just healthy. Just ours."
I run my fingers through his hair, marveling at this man who can be so feared by enemies yet so tender with his family. "I love you, Jackson Kane."
He stands, cupping my face in his massive hands. "And I love you, Evelyn Kane. More than I ever thought possible."
As he kisses me, I think about the journey that brought us here. From auction block to birthing room. From captive to wife. From broken to healing.
Not perfect. Never perfect. We both carry scars that will never fully fade. But perfect isn't what either of us needed.
We needed safety. Acceptance. Understanding. Love fierce enough to protect, patient enough to heal.
We found it all in the most unlikely place, amid violence and danger, within the protective circle of the Outlaw Order MC.
I place my hand over Jackson's heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm. Outside these walls, threats still exist. Charles is long gone, but others have tried to test the club's strength over the past two years. They've all failed.
Here, in this room, with my husband and son and the new life growing inside me, I am not afraid. Not anymore.
I am Evelyn Kane, Reaper’s wife.
And I am finally, completely, home.
Thank you for reading it!