Epilogue
Christmas morning was puppy madness. Buckshot tore through the wrapping paper like it was a mission, Boston and Sage half-laughing, half-trying to keep him from eating the bows.
The great room smelled of cinnamon and pine, firelight flickering across the branches of the tree that reached clear to the cathedral ceiling.
Laughter mingled with the scent of cocoa and cider warming chilled hands, boots crowded the hearth, and for once, no one was in a hurry to go anywhere. Outside, snow caught the first light of dawn, soft and gold across the pasture.
Rip tossed a piece of wrapping paper at Boston. “You gonna help clean this up or just make eyes at me all morning?”
“Can’t I multitask?” Boston shot back.
That drew a few laughs from around the room—Sage shaking his head, Real trying not to grin.
“Careful,” Rip said, low and amused. “I bite.”
“Yeah,” Boston said, smile crooked, “so does Buck. Guess I’ve got a type.”
The laughter doubled.
Law entered from the hallway just in time to catch Sage before he went down—arms full of shredded wrapping paper and one foot tangled in bright red ribbon.
“Easy there,” Law said, steadying him with one hand. “Didn’t realize gift wrap was a full-contact sport.”
Sage huffed, curls falling into his eyes as he kicked free of the ribbon. “Wasn’t the plan.”
“Uh-huh.” Law’s mouth twitched. “You sure you don’t need a helmet for this operation?”
That earned another round of laughter. Boston called from across the room, “He’s got better reflexes when there’s gunfire.”
“Good thing it’s Christmas,” Law said, releasing Sage but letting his hand linger just a second longer than necessary. “No live rounds today.”
“Guess I’ll survive then,” Sage murmured, eyes catching his for a heartbeat.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Azrael whispered, turning to Real, who sat next to him on the couch.
His husband nodded, a sexy smirk tugging at his lips. “Reminds me of us,” Real rasped low, drawing him in tight.
“We weren’t that bad, were we?” Azrael grinned.
“Worse,” Dave said from his spot beside Stone on the same couch.
Across the room, Rip leaned against the mantel, arms crossed, watching Boston try—and fail—to look innocent under the laughter.
Azrael snorted. “Guess it runs in the family.”
“I’m kind of glad it’s going this way,” Stone added, eyes on Law and Sage. “Means we won’t have to vet anyone.”
Those nearby chuckled softly, a low chorus of, “True that.”
On the massive rug in front of the tree, Winter sat cross-legged, surrounded by Aspen, Ocean, Micah, and Freedom as they worked through a card trick that kept going wrong in all the right ways.
Syx was off to one side, testing the edge of the new blade the team had gone in on together—his version of holiday spirit.
In the kitchen, Crow and Rebel joined Cookie, the three of them laughing over a batch of homemade cookies that were already half-gone before they hit the tray.
The laughter still lingered, low and steady under the crackle of the fire. Dave leaned back on the couch, one arm draped along the back behind Stone. The tree lights blinked softly against the glass, their reflections threading the windows with color.
Dave had spent enough Christmases surrounded by command briefings and secure lines to know this—this right here—was rare. Maybe that was why he kept looking over at Stone, as if to make sure it was real.
“Thinking too much again,” Stone murmured without looking away from the fire.
Dave smiled faintly. “Bad habit.”
“With enough time, retirement will cure it.”
Dave glanced at him. “If it doesn’t, I’m blaming you.”
“You plan on replacing me?” Stone’s mouth curved slightly.
“Not a chance.” Dave’s voice came out low, easy. “You’re the only thing I don’t plan on replacing.”
That earned a soft snort from Winter across the room. “Careful, boss, the furniture’s listening.”
“Good,” Dave said, deadpan, “someone ought to.”
Laughter rolled again, easy and familiar, the kind that lived in the walls long after it faded.
Crow and Rebel, on their way out of the kitchen, stopped in the doorway. Both of them glanced up—mistletoe hung overhead. With a shrug and a loving laugh, they took advantage and kissed.
The men whooped. Buckshot barked, convinced the sound was the best thing in the world.
Outside, snow drifted in slow, lazy spirals across the pasture, the storm long since gone but its hush lingering. The fire burned low, throwing ribbons of light across faces softened by the kind of peace they rarely found.
Dave leaned back, warmth settling deep. Around him—his men, his family—every one of them marked by battles that hadn’t managed to break them.
Stone’s shoulder brushed his, steady and sure, and that was all the reminder he needed.
For the first time in years, there was nothing left to plan, nothing left to fight, just the quiet, the snow, and the people who’d made it through.
Outside, dawn stretched wide over the ridge, and inside, the puppy danced while the holiday lights found them all.
It was a Christmas they’d all remember—one filled with Buckshot and mistletoe.
The End
Viper and Titus’s story is coming next in the series - Mercy, Genesis – Savage Warriors book three