Epilogue
The elevator doors open directly into the penthouse, and a wall of noise hits us. Laughter, someone arguing about music, the clatter of dishes meeting marble counters.
Chesca's hand tightens in mine.
"It's LOUD."
Cole steps up behind us, close enough that warmth radiates through my blouse. "It is always loud."
"Finally!" Alina's voice cuts through the chaos, and I spot her at the kitchen island, hair pulled back, gesturing with a wooden spoon at someone while three pots compete for her attention. Her eyes land on Chesca. "I need a taste-tester. Very important job."
Chesca looks up at me. "Can I, Mom?"
I nod.
She bolts. Alina catches her mid-stride and lifts her onto a stool like it's choreographed.
Cole's hand settles at the small of my back and steers me toward the kitchen.
The penthouse sprawls before us, all open floor plan and industrial beams meeting luxury finishes, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the San Francisco skyline in twilight purple.
The smell hits me next, layer after layer of it.
Garlic and tomato from something Italian, the bright tang of calamansi from something Filipino, bread warming, chocolate and hazelnut from what looks like a torte on the counter.
The kitchen island is covered in dishes, Italian on the left and Filipino on the right, neither side giving ground.
"Wine?" Vanessa appears at my elbow, pink-streaked hair escaping its bun, grin bright and welcoming. "Red, white, or Jax brought tequila but we're pretending we didn't see it."
"Red."
"Smart woman." She pours, and the glass is warm against my palm when she hands it over. "Chesca's got Alina wrapped around her finger already."
"Grandma Sophia's torte," Cole murmurs, following my gaze toward the counter.
Vanessa catches that and grins. "Cole's biggest fan. She tried to set him up with her neighbor's granddaughter. Twice."
"The mission was to extract a recipe." Cole's voice is flat. "The mission was successful."
"She pinched your cheek and called you bello."
Cole's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. I take a sip of wine to hide my smile.
"Should I be worried about Grandma Sophia?"
"Apparently I'm appealing to Italian women." His eyes find mine. "It's becoming a pattern."
"Apparently."
Kade appears beside us. I didn't see him cross the room. "Angelina. Good to see you."
"Likewise."
The corner of his mouth twitches, which might be the closest he gets to a smile.
Then Alina calls his name from the kitchen, holding up a spoon, and he's already moving toward her before she finishes the word.
She points at something on the counter, and he's handing it to her before she asks.
Even across the room, their shoulders angle toward each other, faces turning like compasses finding north.
Chesca's laugh cuts through the noise, high and delighted and carrying.
Vanessa moves back to the stove, and I take in the rest of the room.
Asher leans against the counter beside her, his hand resting on her hip like it lives there. Vanessa swats at him when he reaches for a taste, and he steals a bite anyway. She rolls her eyes, but her body leans into his without thought or effort.
The same way I'm already turning toward Cole now, and catching myself a beat too late.
Miguel is parked near the stove, stealing olives from a bowl while keeping one eye on the room. "You know what they call cheese that isn't yours?"
Vanessa's eyes close. "Kuya. Don't."
"Nacho cheese."
The groan is collective. Miguel grins, entirely pleased with himself, and goes back to his olives.
Across the room, Jax argues with someone about the music—too loud, he's saying, we need ambiance not a nightclub—and I follow his voice to find Mira leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed and her expression utterly flat.
But her eyes track him with a focus that doesn't match the boredom on her face, and she hasn't moved an inch closer to him all evening.
That kind of deliberate distance takes more effort than closing it would.
Vanessa appears beside me again, following my gaze.
"Oh, don't even try. I've been watching them for months and I still don't—like, Jax is over there arguing about playlist vibes and she literally spent last Tuesday dismantling a weapons cache, and somehow they go home to the same apartment and it works?
I have theories but none of them make sense. "
I glance back at Mira. Jax catches her eye from across the room and winks. She doesn't react. But she doesn't look away, either.
"I see it," I tell Vanessa.
"Right? It's infuriating."
Damian occupies an armchair near the windows with a glass of whiskey, watching everything and contributing nothing. He catches me looking and offers a single nod, an acknowledgment that comes with a clear boundary attached.
I nod back.
"Angelina!" Xander waves from where he's crouched beside Chesca's stool, showing her something on his phone. She giggles, covering her mouth with both hands. "She says you never let her see the good videos."
"The good videos are age-inappropriate."
"This one's pandas. Totally safe."
Chesca beams at me. "Can I watch?"
"Yes, piccola."
Xander grins.
Remy appears near the dining table, wine glass in hand, smiling like nothing's wrong. But there's tension in his shoulders, and the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Food's ready!" Alina announces.
The room reshuffles as everyone finds seats and dishes start passing hand to hand. Serving spoons clink against ceramic, and steam rises off the adobo as Vanessa lifts the lid.
Jax steals bread from Mira's plate and gets his hand slapped hard enough to make him yelp.
Kade pours water down the line. Vanessa explains the adobo to anyone who'll listen while Alina defends the superiority of her grandmother's red sauce, and Miguel mediates between them with the patience of a man who's been settling kitchen arguments since childhood.
Cole pulls out the chair beside his and waits until I sit before taking his own seat. His knee presses against mine under the table.
Chesca ends up between me and Xander, already talking his ear off about soccer camp.
"—and THEN at go-karts, I beat Dad by like a whole second, and he said it was because my kart was lighter but I think he's just mad he lost—"
The table goes quiet.
Xander's eyebrows climb. Jax freezes mid-reach for the bread. Even Damian's glass pauses halfway to his mouth.
Something loosens in my chest, warm and sudden like a knot I didn't know I was holding.
Chesca looks around, utterly unbothered. "What?"
Cole raises his wine glass slightly, expression unchanged, as if this requires no explanation whatsoever.
Jax recovers first, grin spreading. "Team dad."
"No."
"You literally packed snacks for the raid."
"Tactical nutrition."
Remy leans back in his chair. "You texted everyone individually after the raid. 'Status check. Report in.'"
"Occupational hazard."
"Occupational hazard doesn't explain remembering Xander's shellfish allergy," Vanessa adds. "We didn't even tell you about that."
Cole goes very still.
Kade takes a sip of wine, expression innocent. "You called Chesca 'hime' for three weeks before anyone told her what it meant."
"It means PRINCESS," Chesca announces, proud. "I looked it up."
Jax spreads his hands. "Team. Dad."
Cole's expression suggests Jax may not survive dessert. I bite my lip hard to keep from laughing, but the sound escapes anyway, small and helpless and lighter than anything I've felt in years.
Chesca shrugs and reaches for more bread, already moving on. A few minutes later, she stops mid-bite and looks around the table again.
"Can I ask another question?"
"Inside voice, piccola."
She lowers her volume by maybe ten percent. "Are you ALL in love with each other?"
Jax cackles, loud and delighted. "Oh my God. Kid. WHAT."
Chesca blinks at him, earnest and confused. "You're always together! And some of you kiss and some of you don't but you're ALWAYS here."
Vanessa grins into her wine glass. "That's... actually a fair question."
Asher's expression doesn't change. "I'm only in love with Vanessa. And moderately tolerant of everyone else."
"Aw, babe."
Mira's voice cuts in, dry as desert air. "I love no one. I simply tolerate Jax more than most."
Jax clutches his chest, dramatic as theater. "She TOLERATES me. I'm so moved."
Chesca considers this. Her face scrunches the way it does when she's working through something complex. "So Cole chose Mom. And you all chose each other. And now we're chosen too?"
The table goes still, but it's not the uncomfortable kind of silence. It's not the held breath before a verdict.
Kade catches her eyes. "Family. Different kind."
Alina's voice is soft. "Yeah, sweetheart. You're chosen too."
My eyes burn. I blink it back. Cole's hand covers mine. Not under the table, but on the table, visible and deliberate, and squeezes once.
Dinner continues. Wine flows, and conversation layers over conversation.
Asher leans over and wipes sauce from Vanessa's chin with his thumb.
Kade's hand settles on Alina's shoulder as he passes behind her chair.
Jax says something that makes Mira roll her eyes while the corner of her mouth twitches.
Miguel catches my wine glass before I can reach for the bottle and tops it off without a word, then does the same for Vanessa, then Alina, making his way around the table like he's running triage on empty glasses.
Damian is watching Chesca now, and the tight set of his shoulders has loosened just slightly.
Cole's thumb traces slow circles on my palm, the rough drag of his calluses, the constant pressure that doesn't ask for anything back.
The San Francisco skyline glitters through the windows. Wine bottles empty and get replaced.
Then Remy's phone buzzes.
He glances at the screen, and his easy smile flattens. He pushes back from the table with a murmured "excuse me" and disappears down the hallway, phone already at his ear.
I sink into the couch cushions near Chesca's sleeping form, the leather still warm from dinner. Cole's arm rests along the back behind me, and his fingertips brush my shoulder.
Across the room, Xander and Jax tackle the dishes.
"You're not even TRYING to get the corners."
"They're plates. They don't HAVE corners."
"There are EDGES. You're leaving sauce on the EDGES."
Vanessa and Alina lean against the windows with their heads bent together, and Alina laughs at something Vanessa says, soft and genuine.
Asher reads something on his phone, expression neutral. Mira sits near him, watching the room with those flat hazel eyes that miss nothing.
Damian's jacket covers Chesca where she's curled against the armrest, one cheek squished into the leather, her mouth slightly open.
Remy returns from the hallway, phone gripped in one hand. The screen is dark, but his knuckles are white around it.
He drops onto the couch near Kade.
Kade barely glances over, his voice low and casual. "How's things?"
"Not great." Remy pauses, staring at the dark phone. "Might need to head back."
"Take what you need."
But Jax's hands pause on the dish he's holding. Damian's eyes lift from his whiskey. Miguel straightens from where he's been leaning against the counter and watches Remy with the quiet assessment of someone who reads pain for a living.
Remy nods once. Kade nods back.
The conversation moves on. Xander steals the dish towel from Jax. Vanessa explains something about encryption to Alina.
Later, the gathering winds down naturally. Coats get retrieved and goodbyes exchanged, and Chesca sleeps through all of it.
Cole lifts her easily, settling her against his shoulder. She doesn't wake, just shifts closer to his warmth with a small sigh.
Alina catches me at the elevator and pulls me into a hug, tight and unhurried, her hand pressing flat against my back like she means it.
"Same time next week?"
"We'll be here."
We. Us. Ours. When did those words start fitting?
The elevator doors close on the three of us, Cole with Chesca's weight in his arms and me beside them. The skyline sinks as we descend, the windows of the building across the street blinking past floor by floor.
Cole's voice breaks the stillness. "You're thinking."
"I'm happy."
He looks at me then. Really looks, like he's memorizing this exact moment, this specific configuration of us in this glass box suspended forty floors above the city.
"Good." One word, but his voice drops on it, lands heavy.
My throat tightens.
"Is this what it's like? Having... this?"
"Family?"
The word hangs in the quiet between us. Lands against my ribs.
"I was going to say 'people.' But yes. Family."
The lines around his eyes soften. "I had family. So did you. This is different."
"No conditions," I say.
"No expectations. Just people who want us here."
I watch him hold Chesca, her small fist still curled in his shirt, and I think of his mother. "You should call them."
He goes still. His arms tighten around Chesca by a fraction.
"Your parents. When this settles. You should call."
A long pause. The elevator hums. "Perhaps."
"Not perhaps. Yes."
The corner of his mouth lifts. "You are very bossy."
"I'm a judge. It's literally my job."
Chesca shifts in his arms, mumbling something unintelligible before settling again.
The elevator settles with a gentle bump, and the doors slide open to the lobby.
He drives us through empty streets, traffic lights cycling green to yellow to red for no one. Chesca snores in the backseat. The car smells like cedar and something clean, like him.
Together, we navigate the familiar path to her room, get her shoes off and tuck her under the covers and switch on the nightlight.
She doesn't wake.
In the hallway, Cole's arms come around me from behind, his chin resting on top of my head.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"Giving us people."
His arms tighten. "You gave me the same thing, firefly."
I stop scanning for threats. Stop planning exits. Just breathe.
We're home.
Thanks for reading Shadowed Truths.