Epilapter
I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.
I wear a constant smile, and nothing—not even the ticking time bomb of my life—can take it from me.
Every moment with Axel has been overwhelmingly perfect.
I moved in with him a month ago after the doctors confirmed my pregnancy was going well, and not a day has passed without him finding some way to show me just how deeply he loves me.
But with that love comes a growing edge of agitation—protectiveness that borders on suffocating.
I can’t so much as lift a finger without him noticing.
And when he does, he insists on taking over.
He’s still pissed that we technically conceived in my office.
Ever since the doctor’s confirmation, it’s become his mission to christen every room in his house.
Not that I’m complaining. There’s also been talk about moving to a bigger place—his words, because his place, apparently, isn’t suitable for kids, despite the fact his house has been in his family for two generations.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Axel states as we pull up to mine and Lexie’s favourite cafe. Even though he means well, his voice carries a commanding edge he can’t seem to hide.
As per our agreement, I accepted his offer to drop me off to meet Lexie. He offered to stay, to support me. And as sweet as that was, I needed to do this on my own. I wanted to spend time with Lexie alone.
Even though there are no known threats, this is Axel we’re talking about—part of The Notorious Five. A threat could come at any moment. And even though he brought me himself, I know his men are watching me from somewhere close by.
“Yes sir,” I reply snarkily, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. His brow lifts in response, but I know he secretly loves it.
“I love you,” I sing, earning a familiar grumble from him.
It’s been three weeks since I last saw my best friend, and as I step out of the car, nerves coil tightly in my stomach.
I’m excited to see her, of course—but there’s a thread of anxiety running just beneath it, tugging at my conscience.
Lexie isn’t exactly Axel’s biggest fan at the moment, and to be fair, I can’t blame her.
She’s never been one to sugarcoat her opinions, especially not when it comes to my love life.
While I’ve been doing mental gymnastics to justify the tangled lines I now straddle—defending the law in the courtroom by day, and coming home to a man who exists firmly outside of it, Lexie remains…
unconvinced. She hasn't said much outright, but I can see the skepticism lingering behind her carefully controlled expressions. She’s always been loyal, but loyalty doesn’t mean blind acceptance.
I know her well enough to recognize that her stoicism is a front.
She keeps her face neutral when the topic of Axel comes up, tries to act indifferent, like it doesn’t matter.
But I can feel it; that slow, simmering disapproval bubbling just beneath her calm surface.
It hasn’t boiled over yet, but it’s there, waiting.
I scan the café patio, my eyes darting through the sparse lunchtime crowd before I spot her. She’s seated at a table near the edge, half-hidden behind a giant laminated menu, like she’s trying to disappear into it.
“Hey!” I call out with a smile, already stepping toward her .
She startles at the sound of my voice, lowering the menu in a quick, flustered motion—and that’s when I freeze.
Her face is a mess of injuries. Dark bruises stain the skin beneath her eyes, already shifting to that sickly yellow and purple hue that screams of pain beneath the surface.
A cut trails along her cheekbone, angry and raw, and her bottom lip is split open in the center—fresh, swollen, and clearly painful.
Up close, the damage is even worse. The discoloration is deep, layered like shadows on her skin, and it makes her look like she’s been through a warzone. My heart stutters in my chest, then begins to race with panic and fury in equal measure.
“Whoa!” I hold her at arm’s length, eyes sweeping her injuries. “What happened to you?”
I gently examine the bruises near her eyes, the cuts on her cheek. She looks like she’s gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, but she doesn’t flinch as I prod. Doesn’t even wince.
She swats my hands away and slumps into the chair, sunglasses back on, face hidden once again behind the menu.
“Some thug tried to beat me out of an arrest,” she answers vaguely. “You should see the other guy.”
“Shit. You’re okay though, right?” I don’t bother hiding my concern. I couldn’t if I tried. These hormones have bulldozed my emotional filters.
Sometimes I worry about her job. Worry that it’s wearing her down. When she shows up like this, battered and bruised, I wonder when she’ll hit her breaking point—if one day I won’t recognize the Lexie I’ve always known.
“Enough about me!” Lexie slams her menu down, clearly eager to pivot. She hates attention, especially when it exposes things she wants hidden. “You said you had something to tell me!”
“Right,” I murmur, eyes dropping to the menu in my hands, avoiding her stare.
“Cass,” she almost growls.
“So, I’m…” I fumble with the edge of my napkin, tearing li ttle pieces off it. I thought I’d be more nervous telling Axel, but apparently, this is worse. Her glare behind those oversized sunglasses makes my throat close up. “Pregnant,” I breathe out.
Her mouth drops open. Even with her bug-eyed shades, I can see her eyes nearly bulging from her skull.
“You’re… pregnant?” she echoes. “Like with a baby?”
“Pregnancies tend to involve babies, yes.”
“Who’s the father?” she asks, innocence mocking in her voice. A poor attempt at humor.
“Lexie,” I warn, smiling despite myself.
“Axel knows, right?” Her expression shifts, concern overtaking disbelief. No matter how frustrated she might be, she’ll always have my back.
“Yeah, he’s actually really happy. Over the moon, in fact,” I beam.
“Axel, one of The Five, is over the moon?” she sighs. Her disbelief is palpable, and warranted. I’d feel the same if I hadn’t been the one to hear the soft, stunned wonder in his voice that night.
I nod, and finally, she relaxes. Whether it’s because she can see how truly happy I am, or because she’s finally accepting that this thing between Axel and me is real and lasting, I don’t know. But when her lips twitch into a smirk, I see that spark of excitement in her eyes.
“It better be a girl,” she teases, arms folded, leaning back in her chair. “And you better name her after me.”
“They,” I add.
She blinks. “Twins?”
“Twins,” I grin, unable to contain the joy in my voice.
It was a surprise, stacked on top of the first, but the moment the doctor told us, Axel looked like he could’ve floated off the ground. We agreed in that moment not to find out the genders until the birth. Though Axel’s already convinced we’re having boys—wishful thinking, if you ask me.
“Well, you have to name one of them after me,” Lexie declares like I have no say in the matter—which I probably don’t.
“Sure,” I laugh, trying to keep the mood light. “I’ll tell Axel. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”
Lexie rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “Like I care what he thinks.”
There’s a beat of silence, tense and familiar, and I force a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “You know, you might actually like him if you got to know him.”
The words hang there longer than I intend.
It comes out casual, but underneath, it’s not.
It stings more than I want to admit—this mutual disdain between the two people I care about most. I feel like I’m always caught in the middle, trying to stitch two worlds together that were never meant to overlap.
Lexie snorts, leaning back in her chair. “Does he want to get to know me?”
Her voice is sharp, but not cruel. Just honest. And it cuts deeper than I expect.
I pause, because I don’t have a good answer. Axel hasn’t exactly made an effort. He’s polite—vaguely—but that’s about as far as he goes. And Lexie, understandably, has never made it easy for him. Still, hearing it laid out like that, so plainly, makes something twist in my gut.
“I’ve not asked but?—”
“See.”
“Well, if you’re organizing my baby shower then you’ll have to.”
Lexie’s expression softens, just a little. But not enough. “Would it bother you if I didn’t?” she asks, her voice gentler now.
“I would prefer it if my two favorite people got along.” I glance back down at the menu, praying she’s not about to give me some kind of ultimatum. It’s not like her, but hormones make me irrationally braced for the worst .
“Fine,” she sighs, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “If it will make you happy, I will make an effort.”
I smile at her less-than-thrilled agreement, knowing I’ll have to work on Axel too. Still, I’m content, until I see her face shift again, the joy draining as something darker sets in.
“What’s wrong, Lex?” I reach for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She can’t hide things from me, not for long. I know every flicker of her expression, every little twitch of emotion. She might try to dodge the question, but I see her.
“Can’t a girl catch up with her best friend?” she deflects, flashing a mischievous smile.
“She can.” I raise a skeptical brow. “But when said best friend is being evasive, I wanna know what’s got them twisted?”
“Trigger Colombo,” she mutters under her breath. So quiet I almost think I imagined it.
“Who?”
“Trigg—”
“Trigger did this to you!” I shout, standing halfway out of my chair. My nostrils flare as panic rises. I dig through my bag for my phone, ready to light him up.
“No!” she grabs my wrist, stopping me. “He…”
I freeze as she swallows, something unreadable in her eyes. And just as I brace myself for the worst?—
“I think he saved me.”
I collapse back into the chair, stunned.
She doesn’t break eye contact, watching the shock register on my face. I nod, giving her the go-ahead to explain. And she does—softly, carefully—telling me what happened nearly a week ago.
“Wow.” My lips move, but the words catch in my throat. I cough, grounding myself. “And you’re sure it was him?”
She nods silently.
“But you didn’t see?—”
“I know it was him!” she snaps, voice quivering more than she realizes. “I just know. ”
I tilt my head, studying her. There’s more here—more than just a near miss or a rescue. It’s not about her case anymore. The way she says his name, the softness behind it… she doesn’t even realize the fondness laced in her voice.
Now it’s her turn to fumble with the napkin, tearing the edge like I did earlier. She looks at me, pleading.
“I need to call in that favor.”
“A favor?” I frown. Lexie never asks me for favors.
“You know from when?—”
“I know,” I say, serious now, but calm. She’s referring to the time I asked her to check phone records for Axel’s case. We all cash in favors eventually.
“Go on,” I sigh. “What do you need?”
“I need to speak to him .”
T he end…
… f or now.