Epilogue #2
“The men in the pack won’t touch me because of Bronc, which—fine, whatever, I get it.
But it means I’ve spent my whole life half-seen.
Not avoided because I’m ugly or difficult.
” I snorted. “Though I can absolutely be difficult. Avoided because I’m inconvenient.
Because I belong to somebody important before I ever get to belong to myself. ”
That one landed hard enough that I had to look away for a second.
When I looked back, Lucia’s expression had shifted. Not soft exactly. But attentive in a more personal way.
“I’m tired of being the odd one out,” I admitted, fingers tapping against the edge of the counter before I made myself stop.
“Everybody’s finding their place. Their mates.
Their own lives. And I’m still standing in the corner trying not to look pathetic about it.
I don’t want to wake up in ten years and realize I never once made a choice that was just mine. ”
Lucia’s gaze held steady on mine. “And you believe staying here would be such a choice.”
“Yes.”
“Why Philadelphia?”
I huffed a laugh. “Because it sure as hell isn’t Dairyville.”
That actually got the faintest flicker of amusement out of her.
Then I sobered. “Because nobody here looks at me and sees Bronc first. Because this place is…” I searched for it and nearly gave up.
“Bigger. Stranger. Meaner, probably. But it feels like somewhere a person could become something. And because when I was at Obsidian, I kept thinking…” I swallowed.
“I kept thinking maybe there’s room for me somewhere in a world like that. ”
Lucia tapped one manicured nail lightly against the papers. Once. Thinking.
“You have experience in customer service,” she said at last.
I blinked. “I do.”
“You understand inventory.”
“Yes.”
“You work with the public.”
“Every damn day.”
“And you are not easily intimidated.”
I grinned despite myself. “Depends on the intimidation. Plus, I have a degree in restaurant management.”
“Noted.”
She glanced down at the document on top of her stack, but I knew from the way her mind worked she was no longer reading a word of it. She was rearranging possibilities.
“Obsidian may suit you,” she said.
My heart kicked hard. “You mean that?”
“I do not generally say things I do not mean.” Lucia lifted her gaze again. “The club requires staff who can read a room, manage personalities, hold boundaries, and function under pressure. You have done all of that in less glamorous environments for years.”
I stared at her.
“You’d really help me?”
“If you are serious, yes.”
I pushed off the counter so fast my chairless body nearly forgot manners. “I am serious. Lucia, I’m so serious.”
A male voice cut in from the doorway. “Bronc will lose his fucking mind when he finds out.”
I turned. Ryder Lowrey stood there with a mug in one hand, broad shoulders filling the frame, hazel eyes equal parts amused and resigned. He looked like a man who had gone to get coffee and found himself in the family business instead.
“Doc,” I said.
He stepped into the kitchen, gaze flicking from me to Lucia and back. “Tell me I heard wrong and we’re not plotting to keep Bronc’s baby sister in Philadelphia without a helmet and a signed waiver.”
“Don’t call me baby anything,” I said automatically.
His mouth twitched. “Case in point.”
Lucia reached for her coffee at last. “We are discussing options.”
Doc took a sip, then pointed the mug at me. “Options that end with your brother developing an eye twitch.”
“He already has one when I piss him off.”
“This’ll deepen it.”
I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. “It’s my life. I’m taking control of it.”
The words came out cleaner than I felt. Stronger too.
Doc watched me for a second, and whatever smart remark had been loading in his mouth changed shape. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It is.”
Lucia looked between us, cool as winter. “Then the next step is practical. If Maddie intends to stay, we speak to Bohdan.”
My pulse kicked again. This time it felt less like panic and more like standing on the edge of a jump I’d already decided to make.
Doc exhaled through his nose. “Christ. All right. But I’d advise doing the brother conversation sooner rather than later. Preferably before he hears it from somebody with a dramatic streak.”
We all thought of at least three people at once.
“Fair,” I said.
Lucia gathered her papers into one neat stack. “Finish your coffee. Then get your courage in order.”
I wrapped both hands around the mug and nodded.
For the first time in a long while, fear and excitement felt enough alike that I could live with not knowing which one was winning.
By the time Lucia led me through Obsidian’s doors, my nerves had worked themselves into a proper two-step under my ribs. The club felt different in daylight—not harmless, not even close, but quieter in a way that let me see the bones under all that midnight seduction.
The purple lighting still washed the room in that strange twilight Obsidian seemed to prefer, but with the daytime quiet it felt more like a promise than a seduction.
Lucia walked ahead of me in black heels that somehow made no sound worth mentioning.
I followed, trying not to gawk like a tourist from the sticks, which was harder than I’d have liked.
The main floor opened around us with all its leather and shadow and controlled sin.
Even empty, the place buzzed in a way I couldn’t quite name.
Power, probably. Rules. The sense that anything might happen here, but only if somebody important allowed it.
We took a corridor lined with dark panels and art too tasteful to fully understand. Up one flight. Down another hall that grew sleeker the farther we went. Less old-world seduction, more money with excellent tailoring.
Lucia stopped outside a door without knocking. “He’s expecting us.”
“Of course he is,” I muttered.
Her mouth almost twitched. “Try not to volunteer profanity in the first thirty seconds.”
“No promises.”
She opened the door.
Bohdan’s office looked exactly like the kind of room a beautiful, dangerous man would use to decide whether people were useful.
Sleek, modern, and expensive without screaming about it.
Dark wood. Glass. A low, black credenza.
Art that probably cost more than Pearl’s diner.
One wall held shelves with bottles, books, and a few objects I guessed were old enough to matter.
Another was all window, though the glass was tinted enough that the city outside showed up softened and distant.
Behind a desk clean enough to make me nervous, sat Bohdan Kozlov.
He was bent over ledgers and a tablet, jacket off, sleeves rolled once with neat precision.
His amber eyes lifted the instant we entered, and it was a real damn shame a man could look that good while appearing to calculate profit margins.
Sharp features. Dark hair done just enough.
Expression unreadable in the way rich men and predators both seemed to perfect.
“Maddie,” he said, all business. “Lucia.”
“Bohdan,” Lucia stepped in without waiting for permission. “Do you have a moment?”
“You know I do.” His gaze came back to me. Not rude. Just direct enough that I had to resist checking whether I’d buttoned my jeans. “Sit.”
I sat. Lucia remained standing for a moment, then chose the chair beside mine.
Bohdan folded his hands on the desk. “Lucia tells me you wish to remain in Philadelphia.”
“I do.”
“And work.”
“Yes, sir.”
He tilted his head. “I am not your school principal, Maddie.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Right. Sorry.”
A tiny smile cut at the corner of his mouth and vanished. “Lucia?”
Lucia took the opening like she’d already arranged the whole conversation in her mind.
“Maddie has a degree in restaurant management and years of service experience through Pearl’s and the motorcycle shop.
She’s personable, smart, organized, and knows how to handle difficult customers without escalating every inconvenience into a blood feud. She’s a wolf after all.”
“Sounds useful,” Bohdan said lightly.
I shot Lucia a look. “Thank you for the blood-feud endorsement.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Bohdan’s gaze stayed on me. “Pearl’s is a diner. Obsidian is not.”
“No,” I said. “But demanding people are demanding people, whether they want pie or a private room.”
That got me a second longer of his attention.
Lucia continued, “She also grew up around Iron Valor leadership. She understands discretion, chain of command, and the importance of reading temperament before speaking.”
Now that one nearly made me sit up straighter. Not because it was flattery. Because hearing it said aloud made me realize she’d actually been watching me. Not just tolerating me at the edges of family gatherings.
Bohdan leaned back in his chair. “Maddie, tell me what you actually did day to day.”
I clasped my hands in my lap to keep from fidgeting.
“At Pearl’s, a little of everything. Front counter when needed, deliveries, waiting tables, hell, even cleaning bathrooms. At the shop, I got my hands dirty.
Carb rebuilds, fixing brake lines, electrical diagnostics.
If it’s leaking, grinding, or refusing to start, I figured out why.
Half the time it’s something simple someone else missed.
I did parts intake, customer pickup, and even did some of the books when Juliet needed extra hands. I basically did whatever came up.”
“How comfortable are you with numbers?”
“Comfortable enough not to embarrass myself.”
One brow lifted.
I sighed. “I’m good with them. I just hate sounding like I’m bragging.”
“Get over that.”
Well. Fair.
“I’m good with them,” I said more plainly. “Not CPA level maybe, but I can keep inventory straight, track discrepancies, flag patterns, balance tills, manage supply ordering, and tell when somebody’s trying to bullshit me over pricing.”
He steepled his fingers. “And when someone is trying to bullshit you personally?”
“I don’t let people get over on me.”
“Even if they were powerful?”