Epilogue.

Epilogue.
It’s strange how quiet life feels now. No gunfire. No shouting. No smoke curling through the night air. Just the soft, rhythmic sound of my baby breathing against my chest and the steady creak of the rocking chair beneath me. Six weeks ago, this house was shaken by chaos. Now, it smells like baby powder and jasmine. Jackson’s warm and heavy in my arms, his tiny fist pressed against my collarbone, his head tucked beneath my chin. Every breath he takes feels like proof that we survived something impossible. His hair’s dark like Hunter’s, his eyes blue like Kaiden's, and his scowl—God help me—is all mine. He’s already got opinions about everything. He likes early mornings, hates being swaddled, and screams bloody murder when Hunter sings off-key—which, frankly, I can’t blame him for. The house we bought is now much more of a home with him here with us. The walls are lined with family photos. The garden outside has bloomed. Every inch of this place feels like a rebirth.

Kaiden’s on the floor beside the crib, half-asleep with a baby bottle in one hand and his phone face down beside him. He swore he was just going to “rest his eyes for a second.” That was two hours ago. There’s a smear of baby formula on his shirt and one sock missing, and somehow, he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Hunter is at the window, talking in low tones on the phone. I hear the words' security upgrades' and 'double perimeter,' which is laughable considering we have more guards than the president at this point. He catches me staring and gives me that grin that still undoes me—soft around the edges now, calmer. A man who’s finally allowed himself peace.
When he hangs up, he crosses the room, brushing a thumb over Jackson’s tiny foot as he leans down to kiss the top of my head. “You should be sleeping,” he murmurs.
“So should you.”
“Not a chance,” he says, smiling against my skin. “You’ll close your eyes, and he’ll start screaming again.”
Kaiden mumbles from the floor without opening his eyes, “If he does, I’ll pay him to stop.”
Hunter chuckles. “You can’t bribe a baby.”
“Watch me,” Kaiden grumbles. “It’s a Donatello trait.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You two are hopeless.”
“Hopelessly devoted,” Hunter corrects, leaning down to kiss my temple.

I let out a tired sigh, watching the early morning sunlight creep across the floorboards. Everything feels softer these days. Even the air. Even me. Ariana comes by most days, armed with advice and food and unsolicited opinions about sleep schedules. Isla visits with Rosa, who already treats Jackson like a doll and tries to tuck him under blankets that weigh more than he does. Luca and Tony drop in pretending to check on “security systems”, but always leave with a baby photo or two. Luciano just stands in the doorway sometimes, watching quietly, like the whole world makes sense again. It’s strange, this peace. We spent years learning how to survive fire on our own, and now, we’re learning how to live after it. Jackson stirs in my arms, little noises bubbling up from his throat. His eyes flutter open, unfocused and soft, and just like that, my entire heart folds in on itself.
“Hey, little fighter,” I whisper, running my thumb over his cheek. “You hungry again?”
Kaiden groans from the floor. “He’s always hungry. I don’t know where he puts it.”
Hunter smirks. “Just like you, apparently.”
I stand slowly, easing the baby against my shoulder, and glance out the window. The garden below glows gold with dawn.
“Let’s go outside,” I murmur, already heading for the door.
“Wait, you shouldn’t—” Hunter starts, but I turn and give him that look—the one that says try me.
Kaiden chuckles softly, pushing himself off the floor. “Let her go, man. You know better.”
They follow me anyway, both of them, because they can’t help themselves. The morning air is cool and clean. The world smells like wet earth and trees. Dew clings to the grass, catching the light like stars. I stroll, cradling Jackson close, and feel his tiny fingers curl against me as I make my way to the willow tree under his window.

Kaiden steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. Hunter stands to my other side, one hand on Jackson’s back, the other sliding into mine. Together, we just breathe.
“He’s perfect,” Kaiden murmurs.
Hunter nods. “He’s ours.”
“He’s trouble,” I correct softly, smiling down at our son. “Don’t you feel it? He’s going to raise hell one day.”
Kaiden grins against my neck. “Then he’ll fit right in.”
Jackson makes a small sound—half sigh, half snore—and I laugh quietly, kissing his forehead. “You hear that, little man? It's okay if you make a little trouble.”
The sun crests the edge of the garden, spilling over the three of us. For a heartbeat, everything glows—Kaiden’s arms around me, Hunter’s hand in mine, Jackson’s tiny body warm against my chest. The fire, the fear, the fighting—it all feels far away now, burned down to embers that only light the edges of what’s left.
Hunter squeezes my hand. “You okay, Kitten?”
I nod, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “More than okay.”
Kaiden presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Say it again.”
I smile. “We made it.”
And as the morning sun climbs higher, I know this is what we were fighting for all along—not the power, not the name, but this. A family full of love.

Author’s Note
Thank you so much to everyone who has come this far in Violent Little Thing.
Writing this story has been a wild, emotional, and beautiful ride—and knowing that so many of you connected with Ariana, Isla and Alina means more to me than I can ever say. Your comments, your support, and the way you’ve shared how this book moved you have kept me going through every late-night writing session and rewrite.
Unfortunately, this is where their story ends… for now.
If you loved the chaos and dark edge of Violent Little Thing, you might enjoy Her Obsession—it’s full of the same danger, passion, and beautifully unhinged love.
If the reverse harem side of things caught your heart, you might want to dive into Goddess of the Underworld or Thornhill Academy—each one filled with fierce women, fated bonds, and worlds that burn just a little brighter (and darker).
Please keep an eye out for my other projects—and know that I see and appreciate every single comment, review, and message. You have no idea how much it means to me.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for loving these violent little things right alongside me.
With all my love,
—Sheridan Hartin