Epilogue
CONNOR
You’d think that my wife would get over her dislike for Adrian by now.
I can’t even say it’s an irrational dislike, either, because I get it.
I really do. Between spending six years under the expectation that she’d have to marry her best friend’s bully—and later lover—and then being equally pissed-off at how he treated Loni while keeping Haven’s status in the Order in limbo when he went August after August without Claiming her, she has a pretty good reason to hate him.
Oh, she says she used to hate me, too, but I call bullshit on that. If anything, she hated how much she instinctively knew that we were meant to be together. She definitely loves me, and I know that’s not the Stockholm syndrome talking.
Most of the time, that is…
That’s why, instead of calling up my crew and telling them to meet me at my place, I got the three of them to say they would go to the Order-owned cemetery on the west end of Harmony Heights where we’d catch up together.
Dallas agreed, though I think that’s because he was relieved that my idea was to get a little revenge on a dead man rather than use my pocketknife on his living relatives. Adrian understood where I was coming from, and Bas… he’s always ready to grab a shovel and help out a pal.
Loni packed up her pair of cats—Peaches and Cream—into a carrier, rounded up Annaliese and Lucy, and the three women came to keep Haven company.
I didn’t tell my wife everything; not yet, at least. I have every intention of doing that…
someday. When her fragile psyche is strong enough not to shatter into a million shards to understand that she was handpicked to be taken, I’ll tell her the truth.
For now, I explain to Haven that I need to do something with Adrian, Bas, and Dallas, and as though we’re eighteen again, back at Harmony Heights High, she shakes her head, mouths the word ‘heirs’, and kisses me, wordlessly telling me to return home before long.
As much as she enjoys her downtime with the other wives, she gets antsy when I’m gone for long. I cling to that, taking it as further proof that she loves me now with even a fraction of the love I have for her, and promise with everything I am that I’ll be back soon.
That was half an hour ago. After a quick change into a completely black outfit that’ll keep me hidden in the shadows, I grabbed the shovel I used to bury my Haven doll, tossed it in the backseat of my car, and drove over to the graveyard.
I know I’ve reached the right grave when I see the most ostentatious stone angel ever, complete with a literal crown carved on top of its head.
I thought I was the first one to arrive since I didn’t see any other cars where I parked mine. As I come up from behind, I hear mutterings and murmurs, and grinning once again, I purposely step on a twig or two to announce my presence.
The sounds stop, and the night air develops a sharp edge as three very dangerous men go on alert.
I’m an ass. I know that. And, yet, I can’t help myself.
I’m an ass, but I’m not an idiot. Stepping out from behind the angel statue, I hold up my hands before they can shoot.
Dallas rolls his eyes, moving his hand away from the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Bas jerks his chin at me, a welcoming nod.
And then there’s Adrian. He arches an eyebrow as he sees that it’s me and not some ghoul wandering around the graveyard.
His finger goes up, fiddling with the filter of the cigarette he habitually keeps behind his ear.
It’s a soothing gesture when he’s separated from Loni, almost like a reminder that she’s still his wife even when he can’t be up her ass every second of the day.
“What’s that, Con? You come in peace?”
Oh, Adrian. You know better than to set me up like that. “In peace? Nah. I come in Haven.” My grin widens. “As often as she lets me.”
Bas laughs. Even Dallas cracks a small smile.
Adrian’s lips curve, and the way his eyes go a little dazed, I’m betting he’s thinking of his own wife.
Haven still won’t let me cut out her implant—or, you know, take her to a real doc to get it removed—just yet, but I heard from my wife that Adrian had better luck with his.
Loni recently had her IUD removed, and the two of them are actively trying for a kid.
Something about how, as the King, his kid would be the most untouchable in all of Harmony Heights.
Teasing Haven, I asked if Loni and Adrian’s kid would be considered an heir. She looked at me, grabbed her notepad, and wrote three words that had my heart racing and my cock twitching:
So will ours.
I liked how the idea of her being pregnant with my kid was enough to steal the voice from her if only for a moment. I’m so fucking proud of her. She talks way more than she writes these days, and only when the emotions get to her does she reach for a piece of paper and a pen.
But not when it comes to how much she loves me.
Hell if she doesn’t say the words, but she also shows them in every little thing she does.
Look at us. It’s been more than a year since her last murder attempt, and the last one was so half-hearted, I’m pretty sure she only did it because she wanted me to fuck her into the mattress as punishment.
I mean, who sprinkles peanuts into a bowl of pasta, claims she thought it was pine nuts for the pesto, then sneakingly asks, “Aren’t you allergic to nuts, baby?
” while already slipping off her panties?
It isn’t often that Haven initiates sex.
It’s only been two years since those bastards tried to break my sweetheart, and though my dick is pretty fire, it’s not magical.
If I could fuck her trauma away, I would’ve already, but I know that healing…
it takes time. Whenever she wants me to fuck her, I do so gladly, and I’m grateful that, when she wants my touch but struggles to accept it, she’s still more than happy to let me sedate her and take what I need while she’s sleeping.
As for my wife, she still has free rein to do whatever the fuck she wants to me, whenever she wants it. And, once I’m done in the graveyard after dark—and grab a quick shower—I’m hoping that she’ll feel a little frisky tonight.
But first…
I left my shovel behind the statue. Now that they know I’m not a threat—not to them, at least—I go back and get it. There are another three piled together near Bas. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he sees me sidle over to the grave, clutching my shovel.
“You’re fucking with us, Connor. Yeah? You’re not really about to dig up Jack Collins’s grave, are you?”
Good question. “Yes and no.”
“You want to explain that to us?” asks Adrian.
I shrug. “Yes, someone’s digging up this grave, but it’s not just me. I’ve got my three bros here, and four shovels total. So we are digging up this grave. But, don’t worry, we’re leaving this prick here. Just with a little… something extra, you can say. You in?”
“Defiling my old man’s grave?” Dallas grabs a shovel. “They buried him with his wedding ring on. Fuck, no. He’s the reason my mom is dead. He doesn’t get that. So, yeah, I’m in so long as you help me get the ring off first.”
In answer, I pull my trusty pocketknife out, flipping it open so that the moonlight catches on the blade. “Not a problem, Dal.” I jab it into the dirt so it’s within easy reach when we’re done before turning to the other two guys. “What do you say? Bas? Adrian?”
Bas shrugs. “I’ve put plenty of guys in the ground. Never had to dig one up… might be fun.”
“I put this one in the ground,” muses Adrian. “And I’d do it again for what he put my wife through. Yours, too, Connor. So if this is what you need, let’s go.”
Between the four of us, we uncover the simple plastic burial vault that covers the casket in no time. Luckily—or not so luckily, I guess—I’ve attended enough Owed funerals to know that our Order cemetery uses plastic burial vaults that can be removed easily once the dirt’s been shifted.
It takes a little more work to get the coffin open since it’s been locked and we certainly don’t have a key.
Of course, where there’s a will, there’s a way, and there’s enough pent-up rage inside of us that we’re glad to destroy the damn casket if it gets us to the decomposed, rotted remains of the former King.
I know he was embalmed, but that was a year ago. I don’t pay that much attention to the man we’ve uncovered other than to climb into the casket with him and use my knife to separate the lingering bits of God-knows-what that kept his desiccated ring finger connected to his hand.
I toss the ring finger with the wedding band on it to Dallas, then climb out of the grave with a little help from my friends.
And then, to the shock of all of them, once I’m at Jack Collin’s graveside, I unzip my jeans, whip out my cock, and start pissing all over it.
Bas chokes. Dallas pauses for a second, then says, “Yeah, I’ll feel a lot better after this,” before adding his stream to mine. Adrian smiles a secretive smile beneath the moonlight before silently doing the same.
Not one to feel left out, Bas makes it four.
Rest in piss, asshole. Literally.
Tucking myself inside of my pants once I’m done, I do up the zipper, swallowing the laugh bubbling up in my throat as Dallas yanks the wedding ring off the embalmed finger before adding the digit to the pile of piss on Jack Collins’s corpse.
He pockets the ring, I pocket my knife, and then I grab my shovel.
I’m sure they think I’ve completely lost it, but if they’ve been paying attention—and I like to think they have—they’ll know I never really had it in the first place.
Fuck that. Who needs sanity when you have Haven Heyward as your wife, and the best fucking friends in Harmony Heights?
Not just Harmony Heights, either. The whole goddamn world.
With my free hand, I sling my arm over Bas because he’s the closest to me. I squeeze him, smiling at Adrian and Dallas. Then, with a nod at the defiled grave, I release my buddy and start filling the hole back in with dirt, piss and all.
The whole thing didn’t take half as long as I expected. We still have time before our wives will be expecting us, and—the way I see it—another old grievance to repay.
I heft up my shovel. “Come on, boys. Let’s go find Des’s grave next.”
Because that’s what happens when you don’t respect the bro code and try to take another man’s girl.
You get three bullets to the chest in the middle of St. Catherine’s, and your four oldest friends slapping each other on the back as they discuss just how much you deserve to get your eternal resting place pissed on.
I mean, I can’t say the same thing wouldn’t have happened if Adrian tried to Claim Haven instead of me, but it might have, and he would’ve deserved it, too.
Like I said. I’ll do anything for my Haven.
I just won’t ever let her stop being my Haven—and, because I’m the luckiest fucking bastard in the world, I know that’ll never happen.
We’re ’til death do us part, and even then I won’t let her get away from me that easily.
She knows it, too. From the moment I pulled her out of that room, dragging her from the oubliette where they thought I’d forget about her, I’ve kept her by my side, and that’s where she will stay.
Forever.
And neither of us will have it any other way.