Epilogue
Three days later, I stand at the head of the table in the Shadow kitchen, having called a meeting with my twelve capos. They are all already seated, six on each side, with Khalid sitting at the other end. His girl sits in his lap, looking nervous, but then her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush. Khalid smirks as he holds a soul doll of her in his only hand, controlling it, no doubt, in ways I don’t want to imagine.
I move my focus to my capos, looking them all in the eye even while knowing a few will be dead by the end of this meeting. Shawn Allen and Pitt VanBrackle most definitely. They’re sexist assholes I have turned a blind eye to all this time because they got things done. But that changes today. I have been crippling this Family, our traditions have been crippling us, and we haven’t even noticed. All this time, we could’ve been so much better, stronger, and more efficient with one simple change. By letting our women walk beside us instead of behind us.
I look at my wife, who stands beside me now. In front of me, even, inside my soul. She says I walked into hel for her, but wherever she is could never be hel.
And I want that for my brothers. For my Family. For our son.
So I look back at my capos and say, “For too long, we have called women ‘weak.’ But my wife is not weak. Nor is she a weakness. She went through months of torture, and she fought the entire time when all of you would’ve broken. I barely held it together in the four months I was out here without her. And when I was taken and tortured for two months, the only reason I did not break was because of her. Because she made me strong. She held my weaknesses, and she changed them into something more.”
She looks at me, and I can feel her pain and grief through our blood bond. But though she might have attacked me and said things that struck deep enough to scar, she was still the light I clung to, the only thing that beat back the darkness. Just her presence, the need to fight and be better for her is what allowed me to survive all that torture.
I reach over and grab her hand, letting them all see my “weakness”. My strength. If they think they can grab her to get to me, she will kick their ass. And I push all my love to her through the bond, let her see that I mean every word I say.
She swallows, her eyes shining back with love.
“Effective today,”
I say as I address my men once more, “the women in this Family will be treated as equals. There will be no more breedmares to choose from. Daughters will not be taught to serve their future husbands. They will be allowed to fight alongside us and to hold rank.” I look back at my wife. “And they will be allowed to lead.”
I pull on my shadows right in front of her. A chair rises from them. With a smile curving her lips, she takes a seat at the head of the table. Beside me.
When she tried to lock me in the bathroom while she fought my uncle alone, he nearly killed her. When I tried to leave her at the house so I could hunt Antonio alone, he nearly killed her. So from now on, we will meet everything side by fucking side.
Together.
Stronger.
Better.
I look around at my capos. Their faces become a mixture of barely concealed outrage, confusion, wariness, and blank slates. I know this decision is going to be hard for them to accept overnight. I know women will be targeted more and treated more harshly in the shadows. But with every night comes a dawn, and if I have to drag this Family into the twenty-first century by tying strings to their fucking cocks and dragging them behind a car, then I will.
Because I have a wife who matters and who is stronger than anyone here.
And I have a son who deserves a partner to help him bear the hardships of life. Not a servant or a breeder or a second class citizen. A fucking partner.
One he can lean on for support. One who gives him council and takes care of things when he cannot. One who helps him with his struggles. One who stands beside him, against any enemy together. One who strengthens him with her mere presence. One who enhances his happiness. A true friend. A partner. Not just an interchangeable woman who spreads her legs and cleans the house.
That is the future I want for my son; that is the future his mother and I will give him.
“If anyone objects to this, speak now,” I say.
For a moment, there is silence. Then Shawn Allen and Pitt VanBrackle look at each other, giving each other the courage they need because, in truth, they’re nothing but cowards who like to pick on the “weak”, on the women who were made weak only because we ignored them as people, not because they themselves were, and they start to speak together.
I do not care to listen to whatever shit comes out of their mouths. And neither, it seems, does the reaper because their chairs jerk back from the table. They try to stand and pull on their power, but Enoch shoves a flurry of knives into each of them, pinning them to the wall. They gasp as they hang there. Left alive just long enough to watch us eat.
“Not bad,”
Khalid says.
“Wait. Was that an actual compliment?”
Enoch gasps as he turns to him. “I need to write this in my diary.”
The remaining men look around the table nervously, not yet having adjusted to having a joking, sarcastic reaper and a serious Underboss who often carries around a kitten in order to “be more approachable.”
He even named the orange furball, which is a fucking menace, Relaxing. So he could say, “This is relaxing.” Aleric’s increasing presence in this house clearly needs to be stopped.
A job for another day. Today is about my wife and all the women in this Family.
“Anyone else?”
I ask in the thick silence.
Heads shake, saying no.
“Good.”
I take my seat beside my wife. “Then let’s –”
I jerk my head towards the exit as one of the guards from outside crashes through the room. We all surge to our feet and start calling on our powers. Most of my men, no doubt, are expecting the Blood Fangs to have attacked or for the SCU to be finally moving in. Micha tenses, a part of her still terrified Antonio is alive.
But my face blanches as I recognize the heartbeat of the man walking casually across the living room. As he enters the kitchen, a collective gasp sounds from all.
Looking into his familiar green eyes, I murmur his name.
“Father?”