Epilogue
TINY
“Doors open in ten.” Syvannah checks her watch, then looks up at me. There’s paint on her sleeve and a smudge of dust on her cheek, but she hasn’t noticed yet.
“Ten?” I ask. “Thought you said we had fifteen.”
“I did,” she says. “Then Nina showed up early, and now we don’t.”
I grunt and reach past her to slide the last box under the counter. Peanut is already stretched out on top of the paperwork, tail flicking lazily.
“Cat’s in the way,” I say.
“She lives here,” Syvannah replies without looking up. “We’re just allowed inside.”
I snort because it’s true.
The place smells new. Clean. Fresh lumber, disinfectant, and coffee someone left on the back counter. Women move through the space carrying crates, folders, and leashes. No one rushes, but no one drags their feet either. It feels organized without being stiff. Lived in without being worn down.
“Is this sign crooked?” Daisy asks from the far wall.
“It’s straight,” Monica answers. “You just are not.”
Daisy flips her off without missing a beat.
I lean against the doorway and watch Syvannah sign the final set of forms, her pen moving steadily. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t second-guess. The woman who once flinched at too many eyes now runs a room full of them.
Pride sits heavy in my chest.
“You're staring again,” she says without looking up.
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“Because you built this.”
She pauses, glances up at me. “We built this.”
I shrug. “Still staring.”
The front door opens, letting in cooler air and Nina’s voice. “Is Peanut allowed on the counter?”
Peanut opens one eye and flicks her tail. “She says yes,” Syvannah answers.
Dagger steps into the doorway behind Nina, his presence filling it effortlessly. He’s clean-cut today, but steel still lies beneath. He rests a hand on Nina’s shoulder as she darts toward Peanut. “Sorry, we’re late.”
“You’re early,” I reply. “That’s new.”
Ms. Emerson follows him and pauses just inside the doorway, maintaining her calm posture and keen, observant gaze I recall from the Royal Dancers’ night. She surveys the space calmly. The women move freely, the animals are relaxed, and there is no sign of fear.
Syvannah straightens when she sees her. “Ms. Emerson.”
Her gaze warms. “Syvannah. This place is… incredible.”
“We’re glad you came,” Syvannah says. “Nina’s been talking about today all week.”
Nina beams like she had a hand in building the place herself.
Dagger shifts slightly, close enough to Ms. Emerson to feel intentional. He says something low that I don’t catch. She glances up at him, curiosity flashing before she schools it away.
I lean toward Syvannah. “Clock it.”
She murmurs back, “I see it.”
I add, quieter, “Looks like another Bastard’s about to fall.”
She bumps my hip. “You say that like it’s a tragedy.”
Before I can answer, Capone’s voice cuts in from behind us. “Lattimer’s network’s still breathing.”
The room doesn’t become silent, but it quiets down. Conversations diminish, and people's eyes lift.
“Thought we’d have more time,” Blayze says.
Capone’s mouth tightens. “We will. Just not as much as we’d like.”
Engines rumble outside. Not threatening, familiar.
Syvannah’s hand slides into mine. She doesn’t squeeze hard. She doesn’t ask questions. She just holds on.
“We’re open,” Daisy says brightly, loud enough to shift the energy back to where it belongs. “Try not to scare the donors.”
Dagger chuckles. “No promises.”
The doors open, and people start to enter as laughter spreads.
I look around one more time. The women stand taller than they did weeks ago. The animals sleep without flinching, and my wife is at the center of it all, steady and unafraid.
Peace doesn’t last forever.
But this moment is real.
And it’s enough.