Epilogue 1
Six Months Later
Bea stood in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the scene before her with the kind of fond exasperation that had become her default setting over the past six months.
Dimitri was at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair still sleep-mussed, wielding a spatula with the same focused intensity he usually reserved for dismantling rival organizations.
He was making eggs. Or attempting to. The pan was smoking slightly, and his jaw was set in that particular way that meant he was absolutely, not, going to admit he might be overcooking them.
Nico, the only one who looked remotely put-together in joggers and a t-shirt, was attempting to operate the French press with the kind of careful precision that suggested he’d read the manual. Twice. “You’re supposed to let it steep for four minutes,” he was saying.
“It’s coffee, not a science experiment,” Killian shot back, not looking up from his bread massacre.
“Actually, it’s both. The extraction process-”
“Nico, I swear to God, if you explain coffee chemistry to me before I’ve had coffee, I’m throwing you out the window.” Killian shot back at him.
Nico huffed a laugh, “We’re on the ground floor.”
“I’ll find a higher window.” Killian said without any emotion to his voice.
Dimitri didn’t even look up from his eggs. “Both of you, shut up. I’m concentrating.”
Bea pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, this was her life now. Three of the most dangerous men in the city, reduced to domestic chaos over breakfast. She must have made a sound, because all three of them turned at once.
Dimitri’s expression softened immediately. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I got lonely,” Bea lied, padding into the kitchen. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast,” Killian said, like it was obvious. Like the counter wasn’t covered in bread carnage and what looked suspiciously like spilled milk.
“We’re making you breakfast,” Nico corrected, shooting Killian a look. “Some of us are making breakfast. Others are making abstract art with carbohydrates.”
“It’s just bread, you pretentious-”
“Boys,” Dimitri said mildly, and they both shut up.
Bea hopped up onto the counter, the one spot that wasn’t covered in crumbs or coffee grounds and watched them work.
Dimitri had moved on to plating the eggs with the kind of precision that would have been impressive if they weren’t slightly brown around the edges.
Killian had given up on slicing and was now just tearing chunks off the loaf with his hands.
Nico was pouring coffee with the focused attention of a man defusing a bomb.
“You know we have a chef, right?” Bea said. “Like, an actual professional who gets paid to make food that doesn’t look like it survived a natural disaster?”
“Where’s the romance in that?” Killian asked, dropping a mangled piece of bread onto a plate.
“Um, how about not giving me food poisoning?”
“These eggs are not going to give you food poisoning,” Dimitri said, sliding a plate in front of her. “They’re perfectly safe.”
“They’re perfectly brown.” She said taking a fork and picking at the monstrosity.
“They’re caramelized.” Dimitri tried to explain but not even himself could really believe that.
“That’s not a thing with eggs.” Bea stated the fact while looking up at this sweet man who was clearly trying so hard to impress her.
“It is now.” He stated confidently.
Bea picked up her fork, looking down at the plate. Slightly overcooked eggs. Bread that looked like it had been attacked by a wild animal. Coffee that was probably either too strong or too weak, knowing Nico’s tendency to overthink things. It was perfect.
She took a bite of the eggs. They were a little rubbery, a little too done, but they were warm and made with Dimitri’s careful hands, and she could taste the effort in every bite. “It’s good,” she said.
Dimitri’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying. It’s good.” She reached for the bread, tearing off a piece. “This, however, looks like Killian murdered it.”
“I was going for rustic.” Killian declared as he shoved a piece of bread into his own mouth.
“You were going for chaos.” Bea smiled up at him.
“Same thing.” His words muffled around his food.
Nico set a mug of coffee in front of her, and Bea wrapped her hands around it, breathing in the steam.
She took a sip. It was strong, too strong, actually, the kind of strong that made her eyes water slightly, but it was hot and bitter and exactly what she needed.
“Perfect,” she said, and Nico’s mouth curved in that small, satisfied way that meant he was absolutely going to lecture her later about proper coffee brewing technique and how she was wrong.
She loved him so much. Loved all of them.
Even when they were disasters in the kitchen. Especially then. Killian leaned against the counter beside her, stealing a piece of bread off her plate. “So what do you want to do today?”
Bea shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing? Something? I’m flexible.”
“We should do something,” Dimitri said, too casually. “Get out of the house.”
“Since when do you want to get out of the house? You’re basically a vampire. You only leave when forced.” She snickered as she took another sip of her coffee.
“I’m not a vampire.” He almost looked offended.
“You literally hissed at the sun last week.” She laughed.
“I was squinting.” He corrected her.
“You hissed.”
Nico cleared his throat. “What Dimitri means is that it’s a nice day. We should take advantage of it.”
Bea looked between the three of them, suspicion prickling at the back of her mind. They were being weird. Not bad weird, just… weird. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Killian said, too quickly.
“We just want to spend time with you,” Nico added.
“You always spend time with me. We live together. We share a bed. I can’t escape you people.” She threw her hands up dramatically but meaning nothing by it.
“And yet you keep trying,” Dimitri murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Bea narrowed her eyes at him, but he just smiled, that small, infuriating smile that meant he knew something she didn’t and wasn’t going to tell her.
Fine. She’d figure it out eventually. For now, she had slightly burned eggs, mangled bread, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead and three men who loved her enough to destroy a kitchen trying to make her breakfast.
Six months ago, she would have been looking for the catch. For the moment it all fell apart.
Now? Now she just took another bite of rubbery eggs and thought: Home.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s do something. But I’m not hiking. Last time Killian made me hike, I almost died.”
“You did not almost die. You were slightly winded.” His laugh said otherwise.
“I saw my life flash before my eyes.” Bea looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“That was a butterfly.” Killian stated.
“It was a prophetic butterfly.”
Nico snorted into his coffee, and Dimitri’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Killian looked at her like she’d hung the moon and personally offended him at the same time, yeah, this was her life now and she was keeping it.
10:47 AM
“I’m thinking,” Killian said, steering Bea toward the living room with a hand on the small of her back, “Supernatural marathon? What do you say?”
Bea looked at him suspiciously. “You hate Supernatural marathons. You called them ‘voluntary imprisonment’ last month.”
“I’ve evolved.” He shrugged his shoulders
“In four weeks?” She raised an eyebrow at him
“I’m a complex man.”
Behind them, Dimitri’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, typed something quickly, and pocketed it before Bea could turn around.
She did anyway. “What was that?”
“Work.” He stated
“On a Saturday?”
“Crime doesn’t take weekends, baby.”
Bea opened her mouth to argue, but Nico was already queuing up Supernatural on the TV, and Killian was pulling her down onto the couch, and Dimitri was settling in beside her with that solid, immovable presence that made it impossible to think about anything else.
Fine. She’d let them be weird, for now.
11:03 AM
Outside, on the far end of the estate grounds, Marco stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the balcony like a general planning a siege. “Okay,” he said. “Flowers. Lights. Candles. Something romantic but not so romantic it looks like a funeral. How hard can this be?”
Alexei, who had arrived twenty minutes ago in a car that cost more than most people’s houses, looked at him with the kind of flat expression that suggested he already regretted every life choice that had led to this moment.
“You,” he said slowly, “have never planned anything romantic in your life have you?”
“That’s not true. I’m very romantic, thank you very much.” Marco tried to act offended.
“You gave me a knife as a gift.” Alexei said flatly
“You loved that knife.”
“I stabbed you with it.” A smile spreading on his face
“Exactly. Passion.” Marco gave him a seductive wink and turned back to what he was looking at.
Alexei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because you love chaos, and you’re secretly a romantic, that’s why.”
“I’m not a romantic.” Alexei huffed
“You cried at the end of Titanic.” Marco pointed at him
“That was one time, and I was drunk.”
Marco grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s make some magic happen.”
Alexei looked at the pile of supplies they’d assembled, flowers, fairy lights, candles, what appeared to be an entire sound system, and for some reason a bottle of champagne that Marco had already opened and was drinking straight from the bottle.
“We’re going to burn the house down,” Alexei muttered.
“We might with that attitude.” Marco huffed and walked away from him.
1:34 PM
Bea was three episodes into her re-watch when Dimitri’s phone buzzed again, and again, and again. “Okay,” she said, pausing the TV. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.” Dimitri stated.
“Your phone has gone off six times in the last ten minutes.” She says as matter of fact.
“It’s a busy day.” He explains
“For crime?” she guesses