Epilogue - Crow
I watch my brother work on a Harley, thinking about the small velvet box burning a hole in my cut. Two and a half years. That's how long it's taken me to finally get here, to be ready to make Emma officially mine.
"You're brooding again," Wrath says without looking up from the engine.
"Just thinking." I fidget with my rings, "Can't believe you knew all along."
Now he does look up, a knowing smirk on his face. "Brother, a blind man could've seen how you two looked at each other. You weren't exactly subtle about it."
"Could've said something," I grumble, though there's no real heat in it. "Instead of just... manipulating situations."
He laughs, wiping his hands on a rag. "What, and miss out on watching you two dance around each other for years? The BBQs where you'd find any excuse to touch her? The way she'd blush every time you called her 'doll'?"
"Asshole." But I'm grinning too. "Thought you'd be pissed, you know. Me going after your best friend."
Wrath's expression turns serious. "Why would I be pissed about the two people I care about most finding happiness together?"
The simple sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. "Still. She was your friend first."
"And she's still my best friend," he points out. "The only difference is that now she makes my brother happy, too. Besides," he adds with a smirk, "someone had to save her from those boring-ass lawyers and doctors she used to date."
I growl at the reminder of her ex. "Don't mention that prick."
"See? Protective already." He throws the rag at me. "So, you gonna show me the ring or what?"
I pull out the box, tossing it to him. Inside is a white gold band with a black diamond - not traditional, but neither is Emma. The inside is engraved with "Always yours - C."
Wrath whistles. "Damn, brother. You did good."
"Yeah?" I take the box back, running my thumb over the velvet. "Think she'll like it?"
"She'll love it." He claps me on the shoulder. "More importantly, she loves you. Has since before she even knew it."
I think about how she's handled everything these past years - the club life, the dangers, the late nights. How she still looks at me like I'm something special, even when I come home covered in blood or grease.
"Never thought I'd have this," I admit quietly. "After everything with the old man, the foster homes... never thought I deserved it."
"But you do," Wrath says firmly. "You both do. And if anyone tries to say different, they'll have the whole club to answer to."
I nod, emotion making my throat tight. "Thanks, little brother. For everything."
"Yeah, yeah." He waves me off, turning back to the Harley. "Just make sure I'm your best man. And name your first kid after me."
I laugh, tucking the ring box safely away. "Don't push it. Besides, I don't remember you naming yours after me."
"Different situation," Wrath protests, but he's grinning. "Lucy picked the name."
"Sure she did." I can't help but smile, thinking of my nephew. Wrath might act tough, but he turned into complete mush the moment he found out he had a kid. "Just glad you're happy too, brother."
"We both got lucky," he agrees, then checks his watch. "Speaking of luck, don't you have somewhere to be? Thought you were meeting Emma at the store."
"Shit." I push off the workbench. "Yeah, told her I'd be there after her inventory."
"Well, get going then." He wipes his hands again, then pulls me into a quick, rough hug. "Good luck, brother. Though you won't need it."
I hug him back, grateful for everything he is - my brother, my best friend, the one person who's been there through it all.
"Thanks. For everything."
"Yeah, yeah," he pushes me away. "Go get your girl before I get emotional and have to kick your ass."
Laughing, I head out to my bike. The afternoon sun is warm on my cut as I swing my leg over the seat. The familiar rumble of the engine does nothing to calm the butterflies in my stomach - fucking butterflies, at my age.
But this is Emma. The woman who changed everything, who saw past the violence and the danger to the man underneath. Who loves both sides of me - the biker and the brother, the protector and the fighter.