Epilogue — A New Hunt
LARK
The first thing I learn about working for Maddox Security (because yes, they recruited us) is this:
They don’t half-commit.
They don’t half-protect.
They don’t half-hunt.
And after everything Knight and I survived, I’m not sure either of us could live halfway again even if we tried.
We’re in the Aquarium—because of course Dean Maddox has to name his glass conference room like it’s a warning and a flex—sitting around a long table that smells like coffee, gun oil, and the kind of seriousness that makes me sit up straighter even when I’m determined to be a problem.
Knight is at my side.
Not hovering.
Not controlling.
Just there.
Like he finally learned the difference between protecting me and loving me.
His hand rests on my knee under the table—steady, warm, familiar—like a quiet anchor while Rae’s voice floats through the comms display at the front.
“We confirmed Serafina’s footprint in Halo City again,” Rae says. “Same network nodes. Same shell routes. Different faces.”
Arrow leans back in his chair, jaw locked. He looks like a guy who keeps his rage in a safe with two locks and a prayer. Juno sits beside him, fingers laced with his under the table in a way that screams touch him and die.
Across from me, River’s posture is calm but her eyes are sharp.
This version of River—the one who survived Cathedral and turned her fear into teeth—is one of my favorite things in the world.
Gage is next to her, looking like he’s trying to be professional and also trying not to combust into violence if anyone breathes wrong around his people.
Which includes me.
Unfortunately for him.
Ozzy is sprawled in his chair like the meeting is optional, but his gaze is focused in that unsettling way that tells me he’s cataloging every detail, every risk, every potential objective path.
Render has a tablet open, already pulling satellite overlays.
Poe is quiet near the corner, the kind of quiet that makes the room feel more secure just because he’s in it.
Sawyer and Riggs stand like they were born in command lighting.
Dean sits at the head of the table, calm in the way that makes you remember calm can be lethal. This is not a ragtag vigilante crew anymore. This is a machine. A good one.
Rae changes the display.
A photo appears.
A girl.
Maybe mid-twenties.
Dark hair, pale skin, eyes wide with a stubbornness that feels familiar even through a still image.
A name appears under her file.
SALEM BLOOM.
I can feel the emotional temperature drop the moment the word trafficking becomes real instead of theoretical.
Rae’s voice goes quieter.
“Salem was taken three weeks ago. We believe she’s being moved through a private auction pipeline. High bidder purchase is scheduled within forty-eight hours.”
“Forty-eight?” River repeats, disbelief sharpened into anger.
Rae nods. “Location is not confirmed, but we have a lead on a staging property outside Halo City. The same handler chain ties back to Serafina’s financial architecture.”
Gage’s fingers tap once against the table.
A tell.
He’s pissed.
I don’t blame him.
Knight’s hand tightens on my knee, just slightly.
“Who’s close to extraction?” Dean asks.
Ozzy’s head lifts. “I am.” He says it like a fact.
I glance at him.
Ozzy Oliver is chaos in a designer jacket—sharp smile, quicker brain, and a moral compass that only points true when someone weaker is in danger. He’s the guy who jokes his way through stress. The guy who will flirt with a loaded gun if it looks lonely.
But right now? There’s no humor on him. Just intent.
Arrow leans forward. “We’ll stage a quiet pull. No fireworks. Not yet.”
“I’m not sure. I think I’d feel better using trained men,” Dean says.
“I don’t,” Ozzy says. “I think I can blend better. Maybe go in as an interested buyer. Your brAVO team screams military. I don’t.”
Dean weighs his options. “This little misfit crew has proved helpful,” he says more to Arrow than anyone else.
Rae flips to a schematic.
“Primary objective: Salem alive and untracked. Secondary objective: identify transport chain. Tertiary: smoke out Serafina’s local coordinator.”
Knight speaks next, calm and precise. “Ozzy goes in as a distraction with a shadow tail. We cut cameras three minutes before breach. We isolate the exit route.”
Riggs nods. “I can blind local traffic cams. Give us a clear corridor.”
Poe adds quietly, “And I can pull false plate data to cover the vehicle swap.”
River turns to me. “Lark, you and Knight run perimeter?”
Knight answers before I do. “We’ll be close enough to intervene, far enough not to spook anyone.”
Sawyer coughs like he’s choking on the word intervene. Then he points at Ozzy. “You bring her to a safehouse immediately. No detours. No hero nonsense.”
Ozzy lifts a hand. “Okay, Dad.”
Sawyer gives him a look that could curdle milk. “Not the time.”
Ozzy sobers instantly. “Yeah. Got it.”
Juno’s eyes soften. “Is Salem aware of who she can trust?”
Rae shakes her head. “Unknown. If she’s been moved through pre-auction conditioning, she might not trust anyone.”
Ozzy’s jaw tightens. Something flickers behind his eyes. I can’t name it. But I can recognize the start of a story when it shows up in a man’s face.
Knight seems to clock it too. He glances at Ozzy, expression unreadable.
I file that away.
The meeting breaks into smaller tactical conversations.
I’m leaning over Render’s tablet with Knight, evaluating a route map, when Gage appears at my shoulder.
“Hey,” he says. Suspiciously calm.
Which is how I know he’s about to say something that annoys me. “Hey, brother.”
He grimaces. “I’m trying to get on board with you and Knight.”
“I can see that. It’s adorable.”
He sighs. Then he lowers his voice. “I’m okay.”
I blink.
“What?”
“With… you two.”
I glance at Knight.
Knight’s pretending he’s deeply invested in the map.
He isn’t. He’s listening with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb using only willpower.
Gage clears his throat. “I’m okay with you dating him.”
“That’s shockingly mature.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I grin. “Why the sudden brother approval arc?”
Gage pauses. Then he says quietly, “Because he didn’t just protect you. He respected you.”
My chest warms in that annoying way feelings do when they arrive without permission. “I’m still going to gross you out,” I warn.
“Yes,” he says flatly. “Which brings me to my only boundary.”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Stop kissing in front of me.”
Knight makes a sound that might be laughter.
I tilt my head. “That’s your line?”
“Yes.”
“Not the crime work?”
“You’re all criminals,” he says. “I’ve made peace with it. The PDA is where I draw the line.”
River strolls up at exactly the right time.
“I heard that,” she says sweetly.
Gage mutters, “God help me.”
River hooks her arm through his. “You love us.”
“I tolerate you.”
She beams. “That’s basically romance coming from you.”
Later, when the room thins out, Knight and I end up near the coffee bar. He’s helping me fix my comms earpiece like it’s a sacred ritual. His fingers are gentle. Precise.
He glances up at me. “You good?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I smile. “It’s a Lark answer.”
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You’re worried about this op.”
I exhale quietly. “Trafficking is different.”
His expression goes hard in the way that means his soul just put on armor. “Yeah.”
“I can handle violent men. I can handle hits and bounties and mob clubs with bad lighting.”
“Also yes.”
“But a girl being sold…” My voice tightens. “That kind of evil doesn’t just deserve consequences. It deserves extinction.”
Knight cups the back of my neck, thumb brushing my skin. “It will get consequences,” he says. The words are simple. But I believe him the way you believe gravity.
“Also,” I add quietly, “Ozzy looks like he’s already halfway attached.”
Knight follows my gaze to where Ozzy is talking to Rae, serious and diligent in a way that might be the rarest Ozzy form.
“I noticed.”
“He’s going to pretend this is purely tactical.”
“He will fail,” Knight says dryly.
I snort. “Yep.”
He leans closer, voice lower. “You’re going to want to go in.”
“I am.”
“And you’re going to not.”
I narrow my eyes. “Excuse you.”
He kisses my forehead—soft, quick, infuriatingly sweet. “Perimeter, Birdie.”
I glare.
He smiles.
Rae walks by and says without looking up from her tablet, “If either of you goes rogue, I’m locking your comms and publicly shaming you in the team chat.”
I call after her, “You can’t threaten me with a good time!”
She doesn’t even pause.
By the time we leave HQ, the plan is set.
Ozzy will extract Salem. Knight and I will run outer control.
Arrow and Juno will coordinate with Dean’s team to identify the next link in the chain.
Render and Poe will bring the digital curtain down.
River and Gage will manage internal systems inference and defensive comm shielding.
And somewhere in this chessboard of monsters and heroes and meticulous violence— a girl named Salem Bloom is about to be pulled out of hell.
I don’t know her.
Not yet.
But something in my gut tells me this rescue will shift the entire universe a few degrees.
We stop at a late-night pizza place on the way back. Because if you don’t eat carbs after planning an illegal rescue operation, did you even have character growth?
The whole crew crowds into two booths. Arrow has one arm around Juno. Render is arguing with Poe about camera angles. River is laughing at something Ozzy said— and Ozzy looks like he’s performing normalcy for the room while his mind stays locked on the photo of Salem.
Gage watches all of us like an exhausted dad at a birthday party where the kids are armed.
Knight sits beside me, thigh pressed to mine. The comfort of him still surprises me. Like my body is finally learning that safe doesn’t have to mean still.
Gage is mid-rant about operational discipline when Knight leans over and murmurs in my ear, “You’re smiling.”
“I’m happy,” I whisper back.
“Dangerous sentence.”
“Correct.” I tilt my head and kiss him.
Gage makes a noise of disgust so dramatic it could qualify as a performance piece. “Absolutely not.”
River cackles. Juno grins. Arrow shakes his head like he’s proud and doomed.
Ozzy points at Gage. “See? Love is alive.”
Gage mutters, “I’m changing my name.”
I smile into Knight’s shoulder. This is the part of our lives I didn’t expect. The after. The family you choose. The work that matters. The kind of love that doesn’t make you smaller— it makes you sharper.
When we step outside, Saint Pierce is cold and bright with December energy.
Knight laces his fingers with mine. “Tomorrow we hunt,” he says.
“And rescue,” I answer.
His thumb brushes my knuckles. “You ready?”
I think of Salem Bloom.
Of Serafina.
Of the ring we’re about to crack open.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Me too.”
We walk into the night together— with a plan, a purpose, and a rescue that’s about to change everything.
Especially Ozzy.
Thank you so much for reading Make Them Beg, A Pretty Deadly Things Novel.