EPILOGUE | JAX
“Alright, you little troublemaker,” I say, trying to wrangle a squirming nine-month-old into his pajamas. “You are a St. Clair. That means we face danger bravely… and we definitely put our arms through the right holes.”
He laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world and promptly yanks the sleeve back off.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his tiny hand. “Work with me here.”
Eventually I get him bundled into the soft blue pajamas Lou bought him. They’re kind of cute, with tiny white moths covering the fabric, but all I care about is that they’re zip-up pajamas. The ones with the tiny buttons are Sisk’s responsibility. I made that clear on day one.
None of us have figured out how to tell Lou that spending his hard-earned money on clothes that babies outgrow in two seconds isn’t the smartest investment.
Case in point, the kid still manages to make the whole thing a challenge.
“Unbelievable,” I breathe.
I scoop him up and carry him to the rocking chair beside the window.
The full moon hangs heavy in the sky outside, a perfect, white circle over the quiet city.
I wince, a phantom itch flaring across the mark on my palm.
It’s nothing now, just a ghost of a feeling, a memory of power that used to burn under my skin on nights like this.
Orion settles the second I hand him his bottle. I start rocking slowly and he grabs a fistful of my hair with one chubby hand.
“Easy there,” I say. “That’s attached.”
His eyes blink up at me, wide and curious.
“So,” I say quietly, glancing out the window. “Where did we stop?”
I shift him slightly in my arms.
“Oh right. The part where I jumped into the scary black hole.”
His tiny fingers tighten in my hair.
“Nah,” I say softly. “It wasn’t that scary. Because I knew you had your mom to protect you if anything happened to me. And she’s a tough one, isn’t she?”
He blinks slowly.
“And there’s Uncle Matt. I know he can be a pain sometimes, but he’d stand in front of a train for you.”
I rock the chair gently.
“And you’ve got two old, grumpy grandpas who’d probably fight the Pit itself if you asked. Actually, O wants you to call him grandpa too, so make that three grumpy bastards on your side.”
Orion sighs around the bottle.
“So yeah,” I say. “I jumped.”
I stare out at the dark skyline.
“Once I was in there… things get a little fuzzy. Some memories feel like dreams now. But I remember enough. The Pit tried to swallow me, but when it touched my mind, it saw everything. My memories. My life. The future of what this city would become if no one stopped it.”
I pause, brushing a dark curl from his forehead. His hair’s the same color as mine, but as he blinks, I notice his lashes—those are his mom’s, long and thick. “I don’t think it felt fear or desire or greed. It was just… hungry. Like any creature trying to survive.”
Orion’s eyelids start drooping.
“Then I heard the words: ‘The bargain is broken.’”
I shift him against my shoulder.
“And I told it something back. ‘As long as there are St. Clairs, we’ll always protect this city. But not for the tar anymore, for the people.’”
I smile faintly. “For a moment, I thought it was going to drag me under anyway.”
I look down at him.
“But it let me go. Maybe I wasn't all that tasty.”
I brush a curl from his forehead. “Or maybe it knew you needed your dad.”
I kiss the top of his head.
“The pits are still there,” I continue softly.
“The original and the new. And the city’s still a mess, but your family’s got enough money now to start fixing things.
Your great-grandfather had a lot hidden away.
My grandfather… he bitched about it for a week straight, but he finally caved and gave me the access.
He’s still doing a lot of bad stuff, you know.
The old man's been doing the same things for so long, I don't think he knows any other way. I’m figuring out how to shut it all down, but it’s gonna take time to win from the ground up. ”
I shift him against my shoulder. “And your mother… well, when mommy wants something, she gets it. She’s got some crazy plans to intercept his operations, and I’ve learned it’s better to just let her do her thing. It’s a kindness, really. To me.”
I lean in a little closer. “Don’t tell mommy I said ‘bitched.’ That’s a bad word.
We’ll both be sleeping on the couch.” I shift him slightly, my back giving a familiar, dull ache.
“Who knew back pain was a thing? Don’t tell your mother, but I kind of miss the healing powers.
A couch is not as forgiving as a cursed pit, apparently. ”
Outside, a distant siren wails, a lonely sound in the quiet night.
“Maybe someday someone will figure out how to close the pits for good. For now... we just keep a bigger fence around them.”
I tap his nose lightly. “And you, little man, are absolutely never going anywhere near them. Understood?”
His bottle slips from his mouth as sleep finally wins.
“Good.”
I lower him gently into the crib. His eyes blink once more, just for a second, and a faint flicker of red flashes across his pupils. I notice it. We all noticed the day he was born.
The room is smaller now, crammed with a changing table and a mountain of toys. There’s barely a path to the door. I have to sidestep Scotch, who’s already curled up on the rug right beside the crib.
I switch off the lamp and ease the door open.
Sisk waits in the hallway.
“Is he out?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
“Were you telling him one of your pit stories again?”
“Well,” I shrug, “I couldn’t leave him with a cliffhanger.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re going to give him nightmares.”
“He’s tough,” I say, slapping her ass. “Like his mom.”
“Jax, your dad,” she whispers, making a face.
I look past her. My father is already making himself comfortable in the middle of the packed mess of boxes, settling into the one good armchair with a worn book and a glass of scotch. He looks up. “You two go have fun,” he says, already opening the book. “I got him.”
I nod. “Thanks, Daniel.”
Sisk’s eyes widen slightly as we turn to head downstairs. She leans in close. “I think you can start calling him Dad, you know?”
I snort. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m already agreeing to live with the guy. That’s enough progress for one decade.”
She rolls her eyes then says, “Did you notice how O can already play peek-a-boo? You pull the blanket over his face and he yanks it off himself, grinning like he just invented the game.”
“That I gotta see tomorrow.”
“Are you gonna be home tomorrow?” she asks, and I pull her into a tight kiss, remembering we haven’t had a second alone in a while.
“Damn sure I’m gonna wake up hungover, so yeah. Get ready for a lazy family day. Just us, the couch, and whatever cartoons O decides are worth watching.”
She grins, her whole face lighting up. “I’ll hold you to that. Pancakes and bad TV?”
“You got it.”
The noise from the bar grows as we head down the stairs. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until right now. With everything else—the move, Orion, trying to keep my grandfather from bleeding the city dry—I barely make it down here anymore.
Matt has it running like a well-oiled machine though.
I watch him for a while, leaning against the bar, seeing how smoothly everything is being handled.
He’s even got a new guy working, I watch Lou try to show him how to do a proper throw, and Andy nearly sends a bottle of top-shelf whiskey flying.
I have to laugh. I’d forgotten we hired him.
Lou’s boyfriend. The man is a disaster, but he makes Lou happy, and that makes Sisk happy, and that’s all that matters.
“Is little Orion sleeping?” Viper calls from her usual stool.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Thanks for… you know… coming by, Matt and…” I trail off, the words catching in my throat.
Took a long time to get her back in the same room with me.
Can’t blame her. I didn’t just kill her brother; I made a fucking spectacle of it right in front of her.
But when I asked for help going through his things, trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing with the tar, she showed up.
She’s not forgiving me. I don’t think she ever will, but she’s starting to understand why I did it.
Murtaugh wasn’t just a scientist anymore.
He was using his knowledge for some dark shit, twisting the tar into something it was never meant to be.
He got what he deserved. Unlike that fucking coward Ivan, who’s still out there somewhere, hiding.
He’s the one who started all this. He’s the one who deserves to be dead, but Sisk tells me Ivan got punished enough.
She says losing his mind to the tar, his whole future just…
erased, is a fate worse than death. Maybe she’s right, I don’t fucking know.
Still, the weight of it settles in my gut every time I look at Viper. That’s why I’m trying so hard for Matt. They’re good together. Better than good.
“Heard about the news,” I say, nodding toward her hand. “Congrats.”
She wiggles her fingers, the diamond catching the light. “When do I get to babysit?”
I pop the cap on an ashbrew bottle.
She narrows her eyes, her playful tone dipping. “Don’t deflect, Jax.”
“My dad’s up there,” I say. “Sisk only trusts a doctor to watch him for now. You know after everything… we’re still figuring things out.”
Matt claps me on the shoulder, his grip firm. “Look who it is. My favorite mortal.”
Ever since I stopped being the pit’s walking weapon, he likes reminding me of my newfound humanity. Usually with a punchline like this.
“I can still kick your ass,” I tell him.
“No chance,” he laughs. “You’re all soft now. I’ve seen you try to open a pickle jar.”