EPILOGUE
CASH
ABOUT A YEAR LATER
Not that long ago, I would have insisted that magic was rooted in the unseen.
That whether it was good or bad, what changed our lives most or impacted our days were the minute happenings occurring in the background.
I’m guessing that has something to do with watching my vibrant, music-loving, and always-enchanted mother get devoured by a house of flames.
I couldn’t see her being swallowed by them, but the burn was everlasting.
And I became obsessed with transforming the imperceptible.
But now? With the spellbinding duo of my girls in my sights at all times? I know that magic exists most profoundly in the people we choose who choose us back.
My mother would have sobbed a puddle of happy tears at that revelation. Papa Axe has probably shed some behind closed doors. Okay, fine, I’ve wept a few times, too, holding my precious daughter, but that’s fucking sexy. My little bandit says so.
It’s Family Night in the Underground. We’re all crowded around a huge round table—much like our family dinners—but this is special because the employees are thrilled to entertain us tonight.
That’s right. All of us. Well, Jax is running late, and Rena and her family aren’t able to be here.
But Sterling and Flora. Bernard. And Axel and Ryker too.
No alarms this time. Just a night to laugh with each other and the people who work so hard to bring the vision we had for this establishment to life.
We have kid-friendly carnival games, card tournaments, musical entertainment, and loads of food and drinks. The evening is winding down, so with most of our mingling behind us, we’re basking in a successful event and a happy staff.
It might be the truest nod to the shift from my father’s empire to ours.
Ours is built on the same soil from the souls who crossed us, and it’s rooted in our ancestors and the organizations that dealt in darkness.
That’s unlikely to change. But down here, it’s light and free. This is my mother’s legacy.
“I think I’m good to start next month,” Sylvie says to Axel and Zara, kissing our tiny peanut’s full head of hair as she bounces her in her arms, absolutely glowing in motherhood.
Axel sips his drink, dipping his chin to my girl. “Worth the wait.”
Last week, he offered Sylvie a position, where she’ll be breaking into our members’ businesses to show them where their security is lacking as an extra perk they can request. It enables her to use her skills without being in danger.
She lit up as soon as it was mentioned, eager to get back in action.
Even with an infant, Sylvie is as athletic as ever.
I love everything about this woman, including her motivation.
Every morning before our little darling awakes, we work out together.
I hold her upside down with her legs hooked over my shoulders and eat her pussy while she does midair sit-ups until she comes.
We’ve even graduated to adding squats to the mix to up the difficulty level on my end.
There is no postpartum regimen as effective as that.
Sylvie and Cash.
“We talked about the clients at our properties overseas,” I add, stealing the munchkin and soaking in her powdery scent. “We’ll go as a family, so we need the bookings scheduled in batches. And we’ll probably tack a week on to spend time on the yacht.”
Zara leans into her husband, utterly glowing. “That’s in line with what we were thinking for those sites too. The members can work around you.” She peers at Axel, whose eyes are glued to her dotingly. “And time on the yacht is a nice bonus.”
“Always,” I agree.
Just like I’d planned, after the completion of our heist, I proposed on the yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, under a moonlit sky and a canopy of the brightest stars, with my family beaming at us like proud parents.
Yes, it was fast—and not because we had some secret society obligation to fulfill or any other treacherous force propelling us toward that path.
It was simply because I had never hesitated to go all in on a winning hand before and I knew Sylvie was the greatest treasure I’d ever find.
When you’ve experienced life changing on a dime, you hesitate less about betting it all.
She was aware it was coming, of course, but when I slid the gold diamond-encrusted ring onto her finger—designed to replicate the Venetian Mardi Gras mask her parents had fallen in love with on their honeymoon—my witty girl was speechless. Well, other than her chanting, “Yes.”
We drank Sazerac cocktails—Sylvie pretended because we hadn’t shared our news yet—ate crème br?lée that I’d had the crew get while we were in France, and danced until the freckled night bloomed a stunning apricot dawn.
I would have married her right there with Maddox as our officiant, but there were too many loved ones missing.
Rena wasn’t on the boat, and she’d been absent for too many of our moments.
Ryker, Mercy, Remy, and Bernard were anxiously awaiting our return.
And we were also missing Sylvie’s mom and Flora, and that didn’t feel right.
So, we waited until we arrived home, threw a grand Noire party, and said our vows with everyone we loved around us and our future growing in Sylvie’s womb.
As soon as we set foot in the penthouse after the heist, Ryker and all the ladies greeted us with a welcome that was indicative of the hardship they’d endured, fretting about our safety.
Ryker turned to Liam and Gage with a stern expression. “Your wives started their periods. You may be wondering why I know that. They made me throw them a period party.”
Liam burst into laughter, brightening the mood. “Glad Ace kept you in line, man.”
And Gage simply bobbed his head. “That’s how we do.”
That was our clue that Ryker’s hands had been full, taking care of all the girls and kids. He loved it though. It also led to the announcement that Rena and Ivy were both expecting.
It’s been a busy year.
Sylvie’s pregnancy was smooth, and I was grateful for every healthy day.
She was full of nerves due to her past loss, but she celebrated every milestone with brave elation.
And so did I—the late-night cravings, the doctor’s appointments, the belly kicks from our little fighter, Sylvie’s tears of joy, and the privilege of holding her pain and fear. Even the hard moments were an honor.
We celebrated everyone else’s milestones too.
Mercy and Ryker had their daughter, Emma, a week after our wedding.
Ty and Rena had their baby, Andrew, in late fall.
Wells and Ivy had their daughter, Faith, two months later.
Tessa and Maddox shared their good news at Christmas.
And as of last week, Axel and Zara have joined the club.
It’s a tad absurd, but an abundance of good fortune.
It’s also why a family night in the Underground was appealing to all. And because it’s a staple of our evenings out, the musicians from Café L’Ambroisie are our main entertainment.
The pianist onstage plays Lukas Graham’s “7 Years” as Remy shuffles his deck, pulling the cards into an impressive flourish. When Sterling and Flora gasp, he smirks and winks. A born Casanova.
Sylvie cackles. “Remy Noire, who taught you to wink like that?”
It’s what she always asks him when he surprises her. They have the cutest relationship because just like she’s a phenomenal mother, she’s an amazing aunt. And he always answers with one of his uncles’ names. But he’s getting older and wiser.
“Can’t reveal my secrets,” he says coolly, which garners hysterics from the entire table.
“I know,” Mercy sings, flicking her brown eyes my way.
I lean forward, tapping the table near the cards he’s currently showing off with. “Tell your mom the most important lesson you’ve learned.”
He lifts his chin with all the Noire swagger. “Snitches get stitches.”
The table howls, but his dad can’t let that pass.
“That doesn’t apply to Mom,” Ryker rebukes with a chuckle, reaching to muss his son’s hair while side-eyeing me. “What class is that?”
“Life skills,” Maddox chimes in, always on the same page as me.
“Exactly.” I sit back, resting my arm behind my wife while my little Serendipity—we call her Pippa for short—nestles into my chest, fast asleep.
She’s pretty, like her mama, but she’s got my coloring—blonde curls and big blue eyes.
Sylvie dresses her like a precious doll, and I cherish my darling princess, but my time is coming.
As soon as she starts walking, I’ll be upping the wardrobe into badass territory and teaching her the art of illusion. My little sidekick.
She’ll be learning suave dance moves too. It’s one of my favorite pastimes to do with her mom. But those will likely be Noire-family tutorials.
“The brilliance of our homeschool lessons is more apparent by the day,” Tessa deadpans. “What will you all teach our little one?”
“Says the auntie who loads Remy up with sugar. You are far from innocent,” Zara volleys, to which our silver-haired troublemaker grabs her growing belly in mock offense.
“Careful, Slugger,” Maddox warns Zara, palming Tessa’s head. “You don’t want to end up on her list.”
Ryker hands his daughter a spoon to bang her high-chair tray to the beat of the music before he tugs Mercy closer, grinning at me for instigating.
With our wives juggling motherhood and the harrowing fears of raising girls plaguing us, we’ve spent a lot more time together.
Axel will always be the man I credit with raising me, a far better father than the one the fire terminated.
But I couldn’t have gotten through this past year without Ryker’s guidance.
Remy pats a drumbeat on his sister’s tray, making her giggle, before he begins dealing the cards, intent on us all playing. Since he had Uncle Axel grab some betting chips, I think the game of choice is poker. If he can get this group to focus.