Epilogue - Blair
Two years later…
My son has the face of an angel and the destructive instincts of a tactical nuke.
"Rowan!"
My seven-month-pregnant body protests the sudden movement as I waddle toward the corner of the living room. "Drop it. Do not eat the shiny ball."
My son, eighteen months old and already possessing a glare that could level a boardroom, stares me dead in the eye. A shatterproof Christmas ornament is clutched in his chubby fist.
He opens his mouth.
"No," I warn, pointing a finger. "Don't you dare."
He grins—a wicked, dimpled thing that belongs completely to his father—and chucks the ornament across the room.
It bounces off the stone fireplace.
"Score!" Gabriel shouts from the hallway, diving to catch our daughter before she can scale the baby gate on her way into the kitchen to harass the caterers.
"Don't encourage him!"
Bending down to pick up the ornament makes me wince. My lower back throbs in protest. Being pregnant with baby number three while chasing twin toddlers is an extreme sport, and I’m way too big for this shit.
Gabriel scoops Rumi up off the floor. She squeals, kicking her legs, her dark curls bouncing. If Rowan is destruction, his other half is chaos incarnate, stubborn as a mule, and currently trying to eat the tinsel she managed to rip off the bottom branches of the tree.
Yeah, it was one hell of a surprise that second ultrasound when we found out we were having twins.
"Got her," Gabriel says, tossing Rumi over his shoulder. She giggles, pounding on his back. He walks over, offering a hand to help me straighten up. "Leave the mess. I'll get it."
"Your son is a vandal," I tell him, leaning into his side. "He has no respect for my vision of the perfect Christmas."
"Baby, we have twin terrors. Christmas was never going to be perfect," Gabriel says with a laugh, kissing the top of my head.
Somehow I know next Christmas is going to be even more wild with the new baby added into the mix.
A glance around the room reveals just how much life has changed.
Two years ago, on our first Christmas, this house felt empty and still.
Now?
A disaster zone of happiness covers every surface.
High-contrast board books sit piled on the custom Italian leather ottoman, and a stuffed dragon has been shoved between the cushions of the sofa.
The Christmas tree in the corner looks like it lost a fight.
The bottom half is completely bare, stripped of anything breakable, but that didn't stop my son.
He just dragged a dining chair over to reach the ones near the top.
The house is loud now. Messy.
Perfect.
"Guests will be here in twenty minutes," I say, smoothing my hands over the velvet of my maternity dress. It’s deep emerald green, a nod to the night everything started. "And I think I’ve got applesauce stuck in my hair."
"You look beautiful," Gabriel says. His hand settles on the high curve of my stomach right as the baby pushes out. I swear this baby already recognizes his or her father because the second he touches my belly, the baby reacts. Every. Single. Time. "Go sit. I’ll wrangle the monsters."
"You’re a monster, too," I remind him.
"Yeah. But I'm the biggest one, so I win."
The party’s fully underway by seven.
It’s become our tradition. The annual Hollis Christmas Eve party. But unlike the stuffy, pretentious galas at the country club, this one is for us. For our people.
Harper arrives first, looking like a runway model in a silver jumpsuit that’s just so her. She breezes in, shaking snow off her coat, and locates the champagne without hesitation.
"Don't look at me like that," she says, pointing a flute at my belly. "I’m drinking for two since you can't."
"You're a giver," I say dryly. "How's the new guy?"
Harper’s smirk turns secretive. "He's complicated. You know I like a project."
She won’t say his name. Dodging the question has been her favorite sport for weeks, which usually means he’s either famous, dangerous, or married. Knowing Harper, it could be all three.
"Well, bring him around sometime. Gabriel needs someone new to interrogate."
"Pass," she laughs. "How's business?"
"Booming."
It is. The consulting firm I built—Shadow & Light—is thriving. We handle crisis management and image rehabilitation for the Savage Society and their associates. Laundering reputations pays significantly better than planning charity galas.
Cohen and Emerald show up next, walking in with Ember, who’s now five and abandons her parents and little brother to tackle Gabriel’s leg.
"Uncle Gabe!" she shrieks.
Gabriel, the man who terrifies grown men with a nothing more than a look, melts. He crouches down, letting Ember climb him like a tree while Rowan and Rumi watch with narrow-eyed jealousy from the playpen.
"Traitor," I whisper to my husband as he hands Ember a candy cane he definitely shouldn’t give her before dinner. No wonder she’s his favorite.
Cole and Fallon are next. Fallon looks tired but happy, leaning into Cole’s side as he wrangles their boys. Beckett and Ellery arrive next, him carrying their little girl who’s got her head tucked under her dad’s chin.
Then the wild cards.
Romeo Hudson strolls in with a bottle of expensive liquor in one hand and a stack of presents for the kids in the other, with Xander and Lucas right behind him. Tristen isn’t far behind.
"Merry Christmas, heathens," Xander says, grabbing a bottle of wine from a passing waiter and drinking directly from it.
"Behave," Gabriel warns, walking over with Rumi on his hip after she reached for him. "My children are present."
"Your children are going to be worse than all of us," Xander counters, poking Rumi’s cheek. She bites his finger. Hard.
Xander yanks his hand back, laughing. "See? She's got the taste for blood already. The next generation is being raised right."
Watching them from the corner offers the best view.
This room is full of killers, criminals, and monsters. They’re the people common sense says you should stay away from.
And they are the only family I’ve ever wanted.
Emerald slides up next to me, balancing a plate of appetizers.
"Three kids in two years," she says, shaking her head. "You really committed, didn't you?"
"The first one was supposed to be one baby," I defend, rubbing my lower back. “And you’re one to talk.” I eye her. “Is there a reason you’re not drinking?”
She blushes and I laugh as my husband appears at my shoulder. He wraps an arm around me, his hand resting possessively on my bump.
"You did this on purpose," I accuse as Emerald sneaks away. Yeah, she should know me better by now than to think I’m gonna drop it. But I’ll let it go for tonight.
"I told you I was going to fill this house," he murmurs against my ear. "I don't do things halfway."
I lean back into him, letting his strength hold me up.
My gaze drifts to the window, looking out at the snow falling on the dark pines.
For a second, a shadow crosses my mind.
Ryder.
Thoughts of him haven't surfaced in months. He disappeared after that Christmas Eve gala. Vanished. There were rumors he went to Europe. Rumors he ended up in rehab. Rumors he’s at the bottom of Crescent Lake.
Asking never seemed necessary.
Knowing doesn't matter.
He’s a ghost now. A cautionary tale about what happens when you cross Gabriel Hollis.
"You okay?" Gabriel asks, his thumb rubbing circles on my hip.
"I'm perfect," I say. And I mean it.
The party winds down around midnight.
Harper leaves last, giving me a long hug and whispering something about meeting her mystery man for a late drink. The caterers clean up and take off.
And the twins are asleep. Finally.
Waddling into the living room from the kitchen feels like a marathon. The fire is dying down, casting long shadows across the floor. The tree glows in the corner, and it’s so warm and makes this place even more homey. I wish we could leave it up all year.
I let out a loud groan as I lower myself onto the sofa. My ankles are swollen. My back hurts. But I’ve never been happier.
Gabriel comes in a moment later, two mugs of cocoa in his hands, mine with extra marshmallows. He’s discarded his jacket and tie, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos he usually keeps hidden.
He hands me a mug and sits next to me, pulling my legs into his lap to rub my feet.
"You survived," he says.
"Barely. If Rumi eats one more non-food item, I’m getting her a muzzle."
He chuckles, his thumbs working a knot out of my arch as I groan again. "She’s curious."
"She’s feral. She gets it from you."
We sit in the quiet for a while, just listening to the wind blow through the trees outside.
"I need to tell you something," Gabriel says.
His hands stop moving on my feet.
The tone of his voice shifts. It’s not the playful husband or the commanding father. It’s not the ruthless CEO. It’s the voice from the beginning. It’s dark and serious.
Sitting up straighter requires effort, but I manage it, setting my cocoa on the table.
"What?"
He doesn't look at me. He looks at the fire.
"I never told you the full extent of what I did," he says. "In the beginning."
"The beginning? Two years ago?"
"Before the gala. Before you came to me at Red Rum." He turns his head, the gray eyes I know better than my own locking onto mine. They’re intense, burning with a vulnerability I rarely see. "I told you I knew things. I told you I tracked you."
"I know."
"You don't know how long," he says. "It wasn't just a few months. I bought your apartment building the week after I met you."
My breath catches.
"You did?"
"I installed the security cameras in the hallway myself so I could watch you come home safe," he confesses. The words tumble out now, a dam breaking. "I had a GPS tracker on your car for two years. I had a keylogger on your laptop. I knew every website you visited. I knew every client you emailed."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the screen and turns it toward me.
It’s a map. But not just a map. It’s a history.
Lines of red trace my movements through the city going back years. Every grocery run. Every client meeting. Every date I went on with Ryder.
"I watched you," he says, his voice rough. "I watched you waste your time on him. I watched you cry in your car. I watched you struggle to pay your bills, and it took every ounce of control I had not to intervene sooner."
He sets the phone down.
"I stalked you. For years. Before you ever knew I was looking. Because you were meant to be mine."
Stillness stretches between us.
I look at the man I married. The father of my children.
Horror should be the reaction. A normal person would look at that map and see a predator.
But normal isn't a word that applies to me anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.
I’m the woman who married the monster knowing exactly what he was.
Even if that marriage wasn’t fully by choice at the time. I still would’ve done it if he would have asked.
"That explains why the rent never went up," I muse. "And why the maintenance guy always fixed my stuff the same day."
Gabriel blinks. Confusion mars his features at my lack of reaction. I'm not trying to run or yelling at him.
"That's what you took from that?"
"Gabriel," I say, reaching out to take his hand. His palm is calloused from the weights he lifts and it’s warm. "I know who you are. I’ve always known."
He blows out a breath. “I won’t ever be able to stop this when it comes to you.”
I smile at him. “You think I don’t know that?
” I look at the map on the phone again. "You know what's really fucked up?
" I murmur. "I’m not surprised. Part of me always felt it.
You. Close by, watching. I used to look over my shoulder and feel like someone was there. It wasn't scary. It felt... safe."
Our eyes meet.
"I could run. I could pack up the twins and leave."
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. His hand grips mine so hard it hurts.
"But I think we were always going to end up here," I say softly. "I chose you. The real you. Including the parts that should likely be medicated."
The tension drains out of him. He lets out a breath he seems to have been holding for years before he huffs out a laugh.
"I don't deserve you," he says hoarsely.
"Nope," I agree. "But you've got me anyway. And the twins. And this one." I pat my stomach. "So you’re stuck."
He moves then, pulling me into his arms. He buries his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.
"I love you," he breathes against my skin. "I’ve completely given up trying to fight the madness."
"I know." My fingers run through his hair that has slightly more gray in it now than our first Christmas together. "I love you right back."
We stay like that for a long time.
The antique clock in the hall chimes midnight.
Christmas Day.
"Merry Christmas, Blair," he whispers.
"Merry Christmas."
Closing my eyes, I lean back against his chest.
Three years ago, I was the poor girl from Mulberry trying to fit into a world that didn't want me. Humiliated, alone, and desperate for revenge, I slept with my ex’s dad.
I didn't know that destroying my old life would lead to this.
A family.
A love that burns hotter than any star in the galaxy.
And a man who built a kingdom from nothing just so he’d have a place to worship at my feet.
The rest of the world exists somewhere beyond these walls, but in here, with Gabriel Hollis, with the heat of his body seeping into mine, it feels a million miles away.
I sink into him, holding onto the certainty that I am finally, perfectly home.