Epilogue
NIGHTMARE
One week later…
Early morning light barely slips through the blinds. The clubhouse is quiet in that rare way it gets before the engines wake up and the world starts demanding noise again.
Londyn is sprawled across my chest, warm, bare skin pressed against mine. Her thigh’s hooked over my hip like that’s exactly where she belongs. I run my hand slowly up her back, feeling her breathe. It calms my soul knowing she’s safe.
Alive.
Her fingers trail down my stomach, slow and teasing, like she’s testing whether this moment is real too. A soft sound leaves her as I roll her beneath me, mouths meeting, heat building easy and sure.
No rush.
No war.
Just us.
Sliding my hands between her thighs, I push two fingers into her pussy.
“Always so wet for me, huh, Lolo?”
“Always for you, Night,” she whimpers, grinding her clit against my palm. She bucks her hips, hands locking onto my shoulders. Watching her while she chases her release has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
And then…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, dropping my forehead to hers. “This has to be one of my nightmares.”
Turbo’s voice cuts through the door. “Night. Mav needs you and Londyn in his office. Now.”
She huffs a quiet laugh against my throat. “Not quite, but he does have impressive timing.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “That’s one way to put it.”
Turbo adds, “And before you ask, yeah, it’s important.”
His boots fade down the hall.
“We were so close,” I groan, nipping her bottom lip.
“The day’s not over, baby,” she teases, tugging gently on my beard. She knows I love that shit.
Reluctantly, I roll off her and grab my jeans. She pulls on some shorts and one of my shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. The sight of her in my clothes makes me feel like she’s mine… and she is.
We head for Mav’s office side by side.
“Why does he always need something at the ass crack of dawn?” I mutter.
She shrugs. “I think this is probably late morning in his world.”
I snort. “That fucking facts!”
Stepping into the office, I don’t bother with pleasantries.
“What the hell could you possibly want this early, Mav?”
Before he can answer, the speaker on his desk crackles to life.
“Good morning to you too, asshole.”
I blink. “Jameson?”
“Unfortunately,” he says dryly. “Maverick filled me in about last week.”
Mav folds his arms. Lolo stills beside me.
“And,” Jameson continues, “he tells me you saved his life when Herrera’s man had him lined up.”
Lolo doesn’t respond, just waits for the punchline.
“So for that… thank you,” he says.
She exhales slowly. “You’re welcome.”
There’s a pause. Then his tone shifts to something heavier.
“I also want you to hear this directly from me. I ordered a hit on your brother after that bust. It was business. Not personal. And I didn’t have full knowledge that Tyrique wasn’t aware of his connection to the Mendaro Syndicate.”
The room goes quiet.
Lolo’s jaw tightens, but her voice stays steady.
“I won’t pretend I’m not still angry,” she says. “But I understand the rules of the world we live in.”
“That’s all I can ask,” he replies.
Then he says. “Royal Bastard chapters across California are moving on the Syndicate’s main base in Los Angeles right now. If intel is solid, Mendaro leadership won’t survive the day.”
She closes her eyes for just a second.
“Good,” she says. “I hope they put every one of those fuckers in the ground.”
The line clicks dead. No goodbye, no acknowledgements. Typical Jameson.
Silence settles in the room, charged with something I can’t read.
I turn toward her, but Mav lifts a hand.
“Not done yet.”
He looks at Lolo. “I know you quit the force. And after watching how you handled Tony… Herrera… and after you saved my life…”
His voice firms.
“I know you wouldn’t be satisfied being anyone’s old lady.”
I shoot him a look. He’s not wrong, but still…
“So,” Mav continues, sliding something across the desk, “I ran it past Jameson last night, and he agrees.”
A folded black kutte stops in front of her.
“I’m offering you a prospect patch with the Royal Bastards.”
Lolo stares at it like it might explode.
Then she looks at me for reassurance.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks quietly.
I step closer, thumb brushing her knuckles.
“I’d be honored to have you riding by my side,” I say. “And even more honored knowing every brother in this house would die before letting anything touch you.”
She swallows hard.
“Then, I accept.”
Mav nods once. “Good. Get some rest. Prospect duties start first thing tomorrow.”
Leaving the office, I shut the door, blowing out a breath.
The hallway feels different now… lighter somehow. Lolo’s hand is still in mine, her thumb brushing slow circles against my knuckles like she’s grounding herself in what just happened. In what she just became… a fucking prospect.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah. I think… yeah.”
“Well, that’s good enough for now.”
We don’t say much on the walk back to our room. We don’t need to. The tension that was wound tight between us all morning has shifted into something else… something solid.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I’m reaching for her again, needing to finish what we started before Turbo interrupted us.
I step into her space, slowly lifting my shirt over her head. Every inch of skin I uncover feels like I’m taking back something fate tried to steal.
Lifting her into my arms, her legs wrap around my waist on instinct. She laughs softly against my mouth as we sway back a step, bodies already locked together.
Carrying her over to the bed, I sit on the edge, resting my forehead against hers.
“You need a road name,” I say between kisses.
Her mouth curves. “I already have one.”
That gets my attention.
“Let’s hear it, then.”
She studies me for a second, that familiar mix of strength and steel in her eyes.
“Mystique,” she finally says. “Because Herrera thought I was weak. Thought he had me figured out.”
“And he didn’t,” I finish.
“No,” she says softly. “He really didn’t.”
My chest tightens with pride.
“That name really does fit you,” I tell her.
She doesn’t answer, just kisses me again. Soft at first. Then deeper. Claiming.
The world outside the room disappears, and it’s just… us.
Londyn crashed back into my life like a storm and stayed like a sanctuary, quieting the worst parts of me, standing unbroken in the wreckage, riding straight into fire instead of running from it.
The nightmares aren’t gone. But now when they drag me under, she’s there pulling me back.
“I love you, Lolo.”
The words come out before I can stop them. They hang between us, heavy and real.
Her eyes shine as she looks at me.
“I love you too, Nightmare.”
Something inside my chest finally locks into place.
She’s mine.
She’s a Royal Bastard.
And she’ll ride by my side.
Londyn…an hour later.
We’re still catching our breath when the quiet finally settles back into the room.
Not the heavy kind.
The peaceful kind.
I’m curled against Night’s chest, my cheek resting over his heartbeat. His arm is wrapped around my back, firm and sure, like he’s anchoring me here. For once, my mind isn’t racing. My body isn’t braced for impact. I just exist in the steady rise and fall of him beneath me.
After a few minutes, he shifts.
“Stay right here,” he says.
I lift my head slightly as he slips out of bed and pulls on his jeans. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t look tense. Just thoughtful. Disappearing into the closet, I hear cardboard scrape against the floor.
When he comes back, he’s carrying a large box in both arms.
“What is that?” I ask, leaning closer.
He bends down, setting it carefully on the floor, like whatever’s inside is precious cargo. He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me.
“I had this done a few days ago,” he says quietly. “Wanted to wait until everything was over.”
He opens the box, and inside are three black urns.
Custom. Polished. Each one engraved.
My breath leaves me in a sharp, broken pull, chest tightening so fast it hurts. I slide off the bed without even realizing I’m moving, my knees hitting the floor as my hands hover over them, trembling.
“Night…” My voice cracks.
“Your mom,” he says softly. “Your dad, and Ty.”
I touch the first urn like it might vanish. My fingers trace over the engraving. My mother’s name. Choking on a sob, I press my palm flat against it. Then the second. Then the third.
Ty.
My big brother.
Tears hit the metal and I don’t even try to stop them. My shoulders shake as everything caves in at once… the rage, the grief, the month I’ve spent carrying them like weapons just to survive.
“I couldn’t leave them out there like numbers in a report,” he says. “They deserved to come home.”
I look up at him through tears. My words come out rough and broken. “Thank you.”
He crouches in front of me and pulls me into his chest. I cling to him, my hands fisting in his shirt like I might fall apart without something solid to hold. He understood that my hesitation with the ashes was really me refusing to accept the truth. And for that, I love him.
I would give anything… anything… to have them back. To hear my mom’s voice once more. To fight with my dad over stupid things. To see Ty roll his eyes at me like I embarrassed him just by breathing.
Anything.
But I can’t change what was taken.
All I can do is choose what I keep.
I look at the urns again. My family. What’s left of them.
And then I look at Night.
At the man who brought them back to me.
At the brothers who bled beside me.
At the kutte waiting for me tomorrow.
The Royal Bastards aren’t perfect.
But they showed up.
They fought.
They stayed.
And for the first time since that morning in my parents’ home, I don’t feel like I’m standing alone in the wreckage.
I lean into Night’s chest, my tear-soaked face against his skin.
“I lost everything,” I whisper.
His arms tighten around me. “ But, you didn’t lose you.”
And that’s enough to keep me standing.