Epilogue 2
Three months ago Ashlynn burned her past to the ground.
Now she’s building something in its place.
The old building sits three miles south of Perdition. It used to be a run-down apartment complex that nobody cared enough to fix. Broken windows, peeling paint and a roof that leaked every time it rained.
Ashlynn bought it two weeks after we got married. Now it’s something entirely different.
Workers move in and out of the front entrance carrying lumber and paint cans. New windows reflect the morning sun, and a sign hangs above the door.
Second Chance House.
Ashlynn stands on the sidewalk in front with a clipboard tucked under her arm, talking to a contractor about the upstairs units.
Her hair is pulled back into a messy styled ponytail, and she’s wearing one of my hoodies that swallows her small frame with the sleeves rolled up.
Parker joins them with a tray of coffee, and the three continue talking as I watch from the curb, perched against my Camaro.
She looks right at home.
Six months ago she was fighting to survive the people who stole her life. Now she’s building something for the kids who never got the chance that she did.
Kids who age out of foster care usually get dumped into the world with nothing but a trash bag of their belongings. No money. No place to go. No one watching their back.
I know exactly how that feels.
And so does she.
So now she’s fixing it. One kid at a time.
Their conversation ends, and Ashlynn joins me, leaning against the rear quarter panel of the car.
“How’s it looking?” I ask.
She tucks the clipboard under her arm and exhales slowly, glancing back at the building.
“Another couple of weeks,” she says. “Maybe three if the inspections take longer than expected.”
I nod, following her gaze to the fresh coat of paint on the front doors.
“You did good, doll.”
Her shoulder bumps mine lightly.
“We did.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “No, this is all you.”
Parker disappears inside with the empty coffee tray while a few contractors head toward their trucks. Ashlynn watches them for a moment before turning back to me.
“You coming in?” she asks. I shake my head slowly.
“Booth meeting.”
She nods.
The decision we made a few weeks ago flashes briefly in my mind.
Kids were never in the cards for us. Not because we couldn’t. Because we didn’t want to. Ashlynn would make an amazing mother, and if she wanted children, I would have given her as many as she wanted without question.
But the life we built?
It’s ours.
Just us.
I took care of the rest with a quick visit to Jerry’s office and a bag of frozen peas a month back. Best decision I’ve made since marrying her.
“What?” she asks, arching a brow when she catches me watching her again.
“Nothing,” I say, pushing off the Camaro. Then I hook a finger under her chin and kiss her slowly.
“Just thinking how lucky I am,” I whisper when I pull back.
She rolls her eyes, but the faint smile on her lips gives her away.
“Go,” she says, nudging me toward the driver’s side. “Before Mav starts calling.”
I slide into the Camaro and fire up the engine. She folds her arms on the door and leans in the window, giving me another quick kiss.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, doll. More than anything.”
She smiles then walks in front of the hood, and back toward the building. By the time I pull away from the curb, she’s already back in front of the building, talking to the lead contractor again.
Exactly where she belongs.
Watching her there for a second, I realize something.
She didn't just survive what they did to her. She took it, and turned it into something better.
Fifteen minutes later I’m back in the security booth at Perdition.
The files pulled from Jack’s office turned out to be a lot bigger than we expected.
Jack kept records of everything. Names. Accounts. Deals he never wanted the feds to find. Some of it we already knew about–dirty money, bribes, politicians who’d sell their soul for the right price.
But other things were harder to stomach.
Missing people.
Women who vanished after passing through Steele-owned properties.
In the files he had for Melissa’s foundation, not only did we get all of the information he had on Ashlynn and her parents, but more children they had wiped cleanly from the system. Elias and Slater have been digging through them for weeks, hoping to track down as many as they can.
Dozens of names. Kids who disappeared like they never existed.
Turns out, Jack Steele wasn’t the only monster in the room.
Nick reaches into a box on the desk–one of the many from Jack’s office–and pulls out another folder.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised by this, but I’m not.” He runs a hand over his face and flips it open.
Elias pushes back from the table we had brought in here a few weeks ago, and moves to see what Nick is looking at.
“This just keeps getting more and more fucked up,” he mutters.
Maverick’s green eyes flame with rage.
Before I can ask what they’re seeing, Slater stands abruptly from his chair.
“No fucking way,” he whispers, frozen in place staring at the monitors.
We all glance at each other, then over to Slater who leans in closer to the screen in disbelief.
“What is it?” I ask, closing the folder in my hand.
“You guys are gonna want to see this,” he says quietly, and we all move to stand behind him.
“See what?” Maverick asks.
Silence settles over the room for half a second, before Slater shakes his head.
He stares at the screen like he’s seen a ghost
“We–” he swallows. “We found her.”
I arch a brow.
“Found who?”
His head turns slowly to look at me, his blue eyes pinning me down. His mouth opens, but Cole whispers from behind us.
“The bartender.”