Epilogue. Lucy. #2
Last came Asher, a brush in his hand and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He took my hand and guided me out of the bathroom to sit on the edge of the giant bed, then positioned himself behind me.
Ever-so-gently, he worked the brush through my damp hair.
When he was done, he pulled me back against his body and wrapped strong arms around me.
"Better?" he asked, his breath warm against my ear.
I hummed in response, feeling the cramp in my abdomen ease slightly. I didn’t think a day would ever come when this tender care of theirs wouldn’t take my breath away. Five Alphas, dangerous and dominant in every other aspect of life, rendered tender by their need to care for their Omega.
"I'm going to check my blog in the living room," I said after a moment, pushing his arms away slowly, making sure I didn’t hurt him by being too abrupt. I stood, tugging the hem of my shirt down.
All five of them moved to follow, and I laughed, turning to face them with my hands on my hips. "You guys all stink," I pointed out, wrinkling my nose for emphasis. "Shower first."
A chorus of playful growls answered me, but I could see the affection beneath their mock annoyance. They would give me a few minutes to myself, and then they would follow, drawn by the invisible tether that bound us together.
"Don’t start anything without us," Asher quipped, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Kane.
I shook my head, still smiling as I left them to their showers. The cramping continued, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of what my body might do. I had five Alphas who would move mountains to keep me safe, to keep me well.
For over twenty-three years, I couldn't have imagined this life. Now, twenty-four and counting, I couldn't imagine any other.
I moved slowly into the living room. The compound was quiet save for the distant sound of running water as my Alphas showered.
I grabbed my tablet from where it had been charging on the fireplace mantle, the screen glowing to life at my touch.
A small ping of anticipation went through me as I settled onto the oversized sofa, tucking my feet beneath me.
My blog had once been a way to stay sane, a tool to connect to a world that excluded me.
Now, it had become my lifeline to the past. A lifeline to the good parts, at least. The connections I'd managed to salvage from a life spent behind glass.
At the start of the Cirque du Sang tour when we’d traveled outside Nevada, Asher had suggested I restart my blog. "People will want to know what happened to you," he'd said, his blue eyes serious despite his casual tone. "Besides, you're the only one who can tell your story right."
He hadn't been wrong. The first tentative post—just a short update explaining that I was alive, well, and traveling with the Cirque—had garnered hundreds of responses.
Doctor Emerson from Brightfield had been the first to comment, his relief palpable even through the screen.
Several nurses had followed, their messages filled with a mix of concern and genuine joy at seeing me thrive.
The little boy I’d been tutoring before the experimental treatment touched base.
His math scores had improved, he'd told me proudly, and he'd thought of me every time he solved an equation. Doctor Swann from Eros had reached out too, absolutely thrilled at how well I was doing. We’d had a long conversation by phone. I hadn’t realized that the men had handled the probationary period stuff, telling the Institute in no uncertain terms that I was their Omega.
Doctor Swann had been apprehensive, but somehow my men had proven to her that they were committed and they’d never harm me. Well…never harm me again.
These blog connections felt like golden threads stretching from my new life back into the old, binding together the fragments of who I'd been with who I was becoming. I was glad I’d taken Asher’s advice. I had no regrets.
I navigated to my most recent post—a reflection on our second to last performance, complete with a carefully angled selfie that showed me flanked by my Alphas, all of us grinning.
The comment section had exploded, as it always did when I included photos of the men.
I scrolled through the usual mix of congratulations and flirtatious remarks aimed at my Alphas, smiling to myself.
And then my heart stopped.
The comment was innocuously nestled between two others, almost lost in the flood of responses. The username caught my eye first: TommyG, accompanied by a small soccer ball icon. It wasn't a long comment, just four simple words that sent my world tilting on its axis.
"Are you my sister?"
My fingers froze above the screen. The cramping in my abdomen intensified, though whether from my approaching heat or the sudden surge of adrenaline, I couldn't tell. TommyG. Tommy. Tom Graves. A soccer ball.
Could it really be my brother?
The little boy with grass-stained knees and a gap-toothed smile who used to perch at the end of my hospital bed and tell me how he’d scored a winning goal.
The kid I'd read books to over video calls that grew increasingly shorter. The boy who became too busy with schools and sports and friends to visit in person. My brother. My brother who my parents became so vague about in those last months before they’d signed me over to Omega Protection Services.
I stared at the comment until the words blurred, trying to calculate the odds that this was actually him. Tom was a common name, and soccer a common sport. It could be coincidence. It could be a cruel joke. It could be—
"Lucy?"
I looked up to find Xander standing in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower. Something in my expression must have alarmed him because he crossed the room in three quick strides, the others appearing behind him as if summoned by some silent signal.
"What's wrong?" Fallon's deep voice cut through the buzzing in my ears.
Wordlessly, I turned the tablet toward them. Kane took it, his brow furrowing as he read the comment. His eyes widened slightly, then darted to my face.
"Your brother?" he asked, passing the tablet to Nitro.
I nodded, my throat tight. "I think so. I don't—I can't be sure."
"I can’t believe he’d contact you," Asher said, his jaw clenching in that way it did when he was suppressing anger.
"I haven't seen Tom since before Brightfield," I explained, the words scraping my throat raw.
"My parents always made excuses about why he couldn’t come, or even video call.
I assumed... I assumed they'd decided it was easier for him to just let me go.
And then they—" I swiped at hot tears now streaming down my cheeks— “they let me go too.”
The men exchanged glances loaded with meaning. I knew what they were thinking because I'd thought it myself a million times: what kind of parents abandoned their sick child?
"Are you going to answer him?" Xander asked, his tone carefully neutral.
My hands were shaking as I took the tablet back. The men arranged themselves around me—Kane and Fallon on either side, Xander perched on the arm of the sofa, Nitro and Asher standing behind like sentinels.
I took a deep breath and began to type.
"My name is Lucy Graves. I'm twenty-four years old. I do have a little brother named Tom. He'd be about twenty now. He used to play soccer."
My finger hovered over the 'post' button for a heartbeat, then two. Then I pressed it, sending my words into the digital void.
"The comment is three days old," Nitro pointed out gently. "He may not—"
A soft ping cut him off. A new comment. My heart jackhammered against my ribs as I opened it.
"My name is Tom Graves. I'm twenty. I play soccer for San Diego State. I think you're my sister... I thought you were dead."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Dead. My parents told him I died. Not sick, not away, not even abandoned. Dead.
Grief crashed over me, a wave so powerful I couldn't breathe through it. They had erased me not just from their lives but from existence itself. They had taken away any chance Tom might have had to find me, to know me, to decide for himself if I was worth keeping.
Fallon's arm tightened around my shoulders.
Kane's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my trembling ones.
Behind me, I felt Asher's hands on my hair, Nitro's on my neck, Xander's on my knee.
They were all trying to anchor me to our beautiful present and not let me sink into my broken past.
"They told him I was dead," I breathed out, the words barely audible. "How could they do that?"
But I knew how. They could do that the same way they could sign away their parental rights, the same way they could stop visiting, stop calling, stop acknowledging that they'd ever had a daughter named Lucy. They could do it because for them, I had already died the day I was diagnosed. All the years that they’d fought insurance companies, scraped together money for treatments, and visited me in different hospitals was just the denial stage of their mourning.
New tears spilled down my cheeks, leaving behind damp, hot trails.
I hadn't cried for my parents in years, not since I'd realized no number of tears would bring them back.
But these weren't tears of pure sadness.
They were complicated, mixed with something that felt suspiciously like joy.
Tom had looked for me. Tom wanted to know me!
My Alphas moved as one, pressing closer, their bodies forming a protective circle around me.
Fallon's lips brushed my temple, Kane's my knuckles.
Nitro leaned down to kiss the top of my head, while Xander's mouth found my wrist, his lips pressing against my pulse point.
Asher, never one for subtlety, tilted my chin up and placed a soft kiss directly on my lips.
In that moment, surrounded by their warmth and strength, I felt something settle into place inside me. A piece I hadn't known was missing. I had lost a family and found another. And now, perhaps, I might reclaim a small piece of what had been taken.
I looked at each of my Alphas in turn. God, they were handsome. God, they were gentle with me. God, let me keep them forever and always. Five men who had chosen me, claimed me, healed me.
"I love you all," I told them, my voice steady despite the tears still racing down my face. "More than you'll ever understand."
Their answering growls, soft and satisfied, wrapped around me. Whatever came next—whether Tom became a part of my life or remained a distant memory—I would face it with these five beside me. And for now, that was enough.
God, how my life had changed.
My room’s narrow window at Brightfield had irreversibly widened into an entire world that wasn’t untouchable.
A world no one could keep me away from.
A world I got to experience with these five crazy amazing, daredevil Alphas at my side.