Epilogue
The gates opened at sunrise.
Guards changed twice a day.
The gardens had overtaken the former food stands and souvenir booths, with vegetables now sprouting under signs for turkey legs and fairy wings.
Finley had turned the old first-aid building into a functioning clinic. Rory spent most days either there or wherever Avery and Emery were. Max standing guard over all of them.
Wren had appointed herself assistant to nearly everyone in the settlement, even though no one had actually appointed her to anything. Colson followed behind her, carrying whatever she collected.
Lately, she’d been spending a lot of time in the clinic. I was beginning to suspect that she had decided to ‘collect’ Finley. He didn’t seem to mind the attention, and I knew Colson would be on board with whatever kept her happy.
Ben trained every able-bodied person for several hours a day. Hopefully we’d all be ready when someone tried to take all of this from us.
There was no doubt in my mind it would happen eventually.
Taryn had somehow become involved in half the decisions made inside the walls despite repeatedly insisting she had no interest in being in charge.
No one believed her… least of all me.
Three months had been long enough for Beck and Lucas to become something I hadn’t anticipated when I first decided Taryn needed more than one man willing to die for her.
Brothers.
Not by blood, but something a little messier, and a lot stronger.
I’d wanted reassurance.
That was the coldest way to describe it. Three men gave her better odds of survival.
What I hadn’t planned for was Beck laughing so hard at something Lucas said that he nearly spit coffee across our table. Or Lucas silently handing Beck a whetstone because he’d noticed his knife needed sharpening. Or either of them watching my back as naturally as they watched hers.
Somewhere along the way, they’d become mine too.
Today, however, I was considering killing both of them.
“She’s late,” Beck said, running his fingers through his hair.
“For the seventh time,” Lucas replied, “she isn’t late.”
Beck paced in front of the altar. “She should be here.”
“She will be.” Lucas rolled his eyes.
“How do you know?”
It was all levels of disturbing to see a man like Beck whine like a little girl.
Lucas sighed. “Because she agreed to marry us.”
“Technically,” I inserted, “she only agreed after we tortured her for hours.”
Both men looked at me, and I adjusted my cuffs. “What?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call five orgasms torture.” Lucas smirked.
“That was only after she finally conceded.” Beck’s eyes grew heated at the memory. “I wonder if there’s anything else we want that she wouldn’t readily agree to.”
“We need to give it a little while.” I brushed a hand through my hair. “I expect our future bride to pay us back at some point.”
I glanced around the chapel, tuning out Beck and Lucas.
Thick wooden beams crossed overhead, dark with age, while afternoon sunlight spilled through narrow windows onto the worn floorboards.
The building had been modeled after old Celtic churches, though the apocalypse had added its own touches—repaired hinges, mismatched glass, and weapons propped nearby, just in case.
At the front stood the enormous blue Celtic cross that had somehow survived everything. Flowers had been woven around its base. Real ones.
Wren’s doing.
Apparently, she had stripped half the settlement bare.
The rings were a special project of mine.
Four bands.
Forged less than a hundred yards from where we stood.
Using the old festival forge, the smith meticulously shaped each ring by hand from the silver we had scavenged. In the metal, one could discern minuscule hammer marks, preventing a perfectly smooth finish.
I’d told him to leave them. Perfect had never suited us.
Beck’s ring was slightly wider; Lucas’s had a narrow-beveled edge. Mine was plain. Taryn’s carried three tiny lines worked into the inside of the band. One for each of us.
Beck must be a mind reader. “I still think my ring should have spikes.”
“No,” Lucas and I answered together.
Beck scowled. “That’s what I get for having two old-ass men as co-mates.”
“No,” we answered in unison again.
Beck stuck his tongue out. “I like it. So, you two can fuck right off.”
The chapel doors opened, and every thought in my head disappeared.
Taryn stood in the doorway.
The dress was simple, fitted through her waist and then falling loose around her legs. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, and the expression on her face suggested she was about three seconds from turning around and running back out the door.
Wren stood beside her. Self-appointed maid of honor.
Naturally.
She wore a deep green dress and looked far too pleased with herself.
And beside them—Max.
A narrow leather pouch had been tied around his neck. Our rings tucked inside.
He looked intensely proud of himself.
I was too until he took off at a run right for Beck.
“Wiggles!” Wren frowned. “Bring your ass back here.”
Laughter filled the chapel, and even Ben smiled.
Taryn looked towards us. When she made eye contact with me, everything else disappeared.
For one second, I saw her at eight.
Skinny legs, and big gray eyes. Following me through a house neither of us understood would eventually disappear.
Then I saw the teenager I’d watched from a distance because going back hurt too much.
Then the woman she’d become without any of us.
Brilliant, infuriating, dangerous… wonderfully flawed and willing to entertain the crazy idea I had to keep her alive.
Beck breathed beside me. “Fuck. She’s beautiful.”
Lucas exhaled slowly.
Neither of them had anything better to contribute, and for once, neither did I.
Wren hummed the bridal song as Taryn followed behind her on Ben’s arm.
I’d spent years trying to calculate every possible threat to Taryn. Every weakness, every contingency. Every way the world might try to take her away.
I couldn’t have predicted all that had happened. But my hope for us, was not just to survive in this new world, but to thrive.
As Taryn reached us and we surrounded her, I truly believed that we would make it happen.
One way or another…