Epilogue
The Blue Note is louder than usual tonight, with regulars crowding the booths, while the stage lights paint the lounge in amber and blue. Music rolls through the room beneath the clink of glasses and bursts of laughter, but my attention keeps snagging on my mate across the bar.
Lev sits wedged between Reef and Ash at one of the larger tables near the stage, a laptop open in front of him while Reef talks fast enough to trip over his own words. Something about tournament schedules and why their Pulse Riot clips keep outperforming the live music promos.
Reef rarely latches onto anyone but Kain, yet my mate has his complete focus. A deep pride settles within me to see him settling in as a part of the family he was once sent to spy on.
He focuses on Reef with the patience of someone trying to organize a hurricane into a spreadsheet, while Ash offers dry commentary from the side.
“So ‘chronically online gremlins’ generate more revenue than alcohol sales now,” Ash mutters into his coffee cup. “Good to know.”
Every so often, someone walking past or the game running on his handheld console distracts Reef, only for Lev to pull the conversation back on track and redirect him toward the social media calendar they’re trying to build together. The sight of it stirs a worry I don’t know how to explain.
I don’t doubt Lev’s commitment to the choices he made, but I sometimes wonder if he regrets giving up his family for me. The more time that passes, though, the less the worry pops up.
The man who had first burst into the Blue Note a few months ago to shake up my life has slowly grown into the man he could finally become without the burden of expectation shoving him into a narrow box.
I cross the lounge with two waters in hand and set one beside Lev without interrupting the conversation. He leans into my space, nuzzling my wrist before catching himself when Ash lets out a gagging noise loud enough to draw laughter from the nearby tables.
“You guys are literally Dusk Protocol,” Reef announces, still typing one-handed. “Lev is obviously a Sentinel-class, and Orien is the roguish bartender from the Ember District, and they don’t even get together until—”
He pauses to click something. “Actually, you know what, you’re speed running it. The game takes like forty hours minimum. Anyway, that’s how I know you’re soulmates.”
“I see we’re back in our dating sims era,” I murmur.
“Please shut up, Reef,” Ash says, sipping his coffee. “Some of us are trying to work.”
“That’s literally a Dusk Protocol cut scene,” Reef fires back, already pulling it up on his handheld. “Chapter seven. Ember District. The Sentinel says that exact thing to the bartender, and it’s like, the moment you know they’re endgame.”
Ash flips him off while Lev takes a drink of water, and I drag my thumb across my Marks on the back of his neck.
The touch has become automatic now, and Lev relaxes with a sigh.
From his seat at the table, Ash observes the interaction over the rim of his coffee cup before muttering, “Disgusting.”
Since I’ve caught him more than once, cuddled up with Rowan in quiet moments I wasn’t meant to witness, I ignore his commentary.
Reef snorts. “You’re just jealous because nobody looks at you like you’re their Ember District bartender.”
He pauses just long enough to let the sting land before amending, “Well. Rowan does, but that’s different because you’re literally endgame. That’s a Dusk Protocol thing. The Sentinel would commit homicide over a missed meal, and everyone agrees it’s the most romantic part of chapter six.”
Lev lets out a long sigh. “Can we get back—”
“Talking about how the Sentinel skipped the morning debrief because the bartender wore him out?” Reef continues, not looking up from his screen.
“It’s literally chapter eight. And before you say anything, Dusk Protocol has a ninety-four percent accuracy rate on relationship outcomes. I have a spreadsheet.”
Lev’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t deny it. A month ago, he would have changed the subject or found some way to redirect. Now, he rolls his eyes and pulls Reef back to the conversation at hand.
“I’m thinking we should post the tournament sign-ups on Sunday instead of Saturday,” he says, turning his laptop to show Reef the analytics. “People are more likely to check their phones at home when they’re coming down from a weekend out.”
I lean on the table, close enough that my knee brushes Lev’s leg beneath the table, and his body shifts toward mine, responding without conscious thought.
“You should come,” Reef says, looking up at me. “Both of you. Next Friday’s tourney. Kain’s calling it ‘Noob Slaughter’ which is offensive on like, three different levels, but he’s paying for pizza so…”
Reef shrugs. “And Lev promised.”
“I did not,” Lev protests. “I said I’d consider—”
“I’ve already got you signed up,” Reef interrupts, turning his handheld to show us.
Sure enough, Lev’s name appears on the list of entrants, paired with mine.
“I’m guessing this is your way of getting more drinks to the station,” I say.
Reef’s expression turns triumphant. “You’re the designated runner. Which makes you—”
“A glorified beer girl,” Ash finishes, earning himself a poke from Reef’s stylus.
The stage lights shift from blue to amber as the singer finishes her set with a flourish, the crowd’s applause washing over us.
Across the room, Ghost tips his chin for me to come over.
I signal that I’ll be right there.
He nods once and turns to serve the next customer.
Around us, conversations pick up as the music changes, the room filling with the thrum of a dozen different voices layered over the sound system.
“Speaking of positions,” Reef says, and I realize I missed part of the conversation, “in Dusk Protocol, there’s this whole mechanic where the Sentinel has to declare his role in the Ember District before the bartender will even let him through the door.
It’s literally how they establish the dynamic. And I’m just saying—”
He turns the screen to show them. “Lev totally did that when he—”
“I’m done,” Ash announces, closing his laptop with a snap. “There’s only so much Dusk Protocol I can take.”
“We’re done—“ Lev starts, but Reef cuts him off.
“I’m just saying, from a statistical standpoint—”
“You got him talking, now you can suffer with the consequences on your own,” Ash says and climbs out of their booth to go join Angel and Petra across the lounge.
Lev turns to me. “Why don’t you sit—”
“Sorry, trouble.” I lean down to kiss the top of his head, his soft waves smelling of the shampoo we use. “Ghost needs me at the bar.”
His shoulders slump. “Oh, okay.”
I don’t want to leave. I’m captivated watching Lev like this, his brow furrowed in concentration as Reef continues his monologue about Dusk Protocol, even while switching back to Pulse Riot on his tablet.
My mate has the patience of a saint. That, or his determination simply won’t yield.
Both qualities attract me.
I lean down one more time to run my nose along his ear. “I love you, trouble.”
His head whips around, his mouth open in shock. “What?”
I kiss him on the nose and saunter off. Now, Reef won’t be the only one distracted tonight.
I know he’s wrestled with the words for weeks, his logic always getting in the way. Maybe hearing them first will finally give him the push he needs.
As I join Ghost at the bar, my mood shifts at the worry in his eyes. “What happened?”
Ghost glances once toward Lev before lowering his voice. “Another message came in.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach.
Behind me, Reef is still talking at a volume that half the lounge can hear while Lev tries to steer him back toward their social calendar, and the normalcy of it becomes suddenly fragile.
“Anonymous?” I whisper.
“Yes.” Ghost motions to the door to the back rooms. “Rowan wants you in the security office. Ash is already there. You should bring Lev, too.”
I turn to look back at Lev, who’s just thrown his head back to laugh at something Reef said, and my heart squeezes at his joy.
Mine.
The possessive thought curls through me as I weave through the scattered tables toward my mate.
When I stop beside him, his head lifts with a smile before it slips away. “What’s wrong?”
I cup the back of his neck in a calming gesture. “Rowan needs to see us.”
Reef taps away at his screen. “That sentence literally never leads to good things.”
“Hey,” I say, “why don’t you go find Kain?”
At the mention of the Alpha’s name, Reef shoves his tablet into the big pocket of his hoodie and climbs over the back of the booth, arrowing straight to Kain with the unerring accuracy of someone who’s been tracking his location all along.
Lev closes his laptop and tucks it under his arm as he stands to fall into step beside me. Together we head for the secured door, the thrum of music and laughter fading behind us.
We find Rowan in the office, standing behind his mate as Ash crawls through the security feed one image at a time on the monitor in front of him.
Lev stiffens and steps forward. “What’s going on?”
Rowan holds out a single sheet of paper. I step forward to take it and hold it so Lev can read as well. The paper has no letterhead or signature. Just the stark black of printed words.
God falls before the lion.
But the game is far from over.
Further contact will follow.
Lev freezes beside me, as though the words have burned him. “No.”
Rowan straightens. “Do you know what it means?
“It’s a reference to my family.” He takes the paper from me. “Levon means lion, and my Uncle Mikhail’s name meant…”
“God?” I guess.
“Close enough.” Lev leans into me. “Does this mean it wasn’t my uncle who masterminded this whole conflict between the Blue Note and the Vartanian family?”
“It would appear so,” Rowan says.
“But…” Lev shakes his head. “Mikhail was the one who manipulated the council. He pushed for conflict.”
“I’m sure he did,” I murmur. “But somebody was feeding him the information.”
“Which means somebody else has been steering both sides from the beginning.” Rowan turns back to Ash. “We’re trying to see if we caught the person who dropped it off on camera.”
Lev reaches for my hand, and I lace our fingers together as tension thrums through me.
This changes everything. Not just for the Blue Note or the Vartanians, but for every player on this hidden board.
Lev stares down at the paper as if willing it to vanish. “But why? What’s the point?”
Ash exhales, humorless. “Power. Destabilization. Territory. Could be any combination of the three.”
“Or something bigger,” Rowan adds, a worried furrow forming between his brows.
A long, breathless silence stretches between us.
Then Lev’s fingers clamp down harder on mine, pain and determination lacing his grip.
“What happens now?”
Rowan looks from me to Lev and back again. “Now, we find this asshole who’s messing with our family.”
As the room falls into silence, I tug my mate closer.
Lev and I made it through the first battle.
But somewhere beyond the Blue Note, someone is still moving pieces into place.
And for the first time since this all began, I have the sinking feeling our families were only the opening volley.
The End