Chapter 24 Epilogue 2
Epilogue 2: NINA
Two Weeks Later
The nursery was quiet, except for the soft creak of the rocking chair and the faint, rhythmic breaths of the baby sleeping in my arms.
My son.
Our son.
He was bundled in a gray blanket, his little fists curled tight near his face, his mouth puckered in that serious expression he wore even while sleeping—just like his father.
I brushed my thumb over his cheek, still marveling at the fact that he was real. That I was still here. I almost thought that this was all a dream and that I'd wake up to find myself back in that rundown apartment, alone once again.
His name was Ezra. Kane picked it. Said it meant “helper,” but when I’d looked it up and found out it also meant “protector,” I knew. Knew it was perfect.
Because Ezra was both of us. The fire and the fight. The light after the dark.
The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know it was Kane. His footsteps were always heavier—but quieter now, like he’d learned how to walk softer around our son without ever being taught.
He stepped into the soft glow of the nightlight, shirtless, hair damp from the shower, tattoos shadowed across his chest like war stories. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at us.
Like he still couldn’t believe it either.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said gently, moving to crouch beside me.
“I did. Just… not long.” I looked down at Ezra. “I didn’t want to miss anything.”
Kane reached out, brushing his knuckle along the baby’s downy hair. “He’s not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I just… can’t stop watching him. He’s so small.”
“Strong,” Kane said firmly. “Like his mom.”
I smiled, but tears burned behind my eyes. Not the kind that came from pain, or fear. Just love. The kind that cracked you open and rebuilt you all at once.
“I keep thinking about that night,” I admitted, my voice shaking a little. “The cliffs. The detonator. I didn’t think we’d make it out.”
“But we did,” he said, his hand finding mine. “You did. You brought him into this world like the warrior you are.”
I leaned my head against his. “I’m not a warrior.”
He tilted his face toward mine. “You were tied to a chair over a cliff and still managed to look her in the eye without blinking. You’re a goddamn legend.”
I laughed softly, careful not to wake Ezra. “He’s going to grow up hearing some wild stories.”
Kane grinned. “Only the truth.”
We sat in silence for a few more moments. The house was still. Safe. Lena and Kendrick had doubled security after the birth, not that Kane had even given them a choice.
Miss Carie was gone. Her empire collapsed. Her ghost no longer haunts our doorstep.
“I want him to have a quiet life,” I said suddenly. “ Just… normal filled with love.”
Kane nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll give him.”
Ezra stirred a little, making a soft sound in his sleep. Kane leaned in and pressed a kiss to his tiny forehead, then one to mine.
“You gave me a reason to fight,” he whispered. “He gave me a reason to stay.”
I turned to him. “You’re not going anywhere, right?”
His eyes darkened with something fierce and tender. “Not in this life or the next.”
I leaned into him, and we stayed there—our little family wrapped in silence and soft light and the weight of all we’d overcome.
Ezra would never know the cage I’d been in.
He’d never see the blood. The scars.
He’d only know the love we fought like hell to earn.
And that was enough.
A quiet pause settled between us, filled only by Ezra’s steady breathing and the distant hum of the house.
Then Kane stood, brushing his hand against my shoulder. “I’m going to go get Emma,” he said. “She’s still at the hospital, and she’s been begging to meet him.”
I smiled, heart fluttering at the thought. “She’s going to melt.”
He leaned in and kissed the top of my head, then Ezra’s. “I won’t be long.”
And true to his word, not more than an hour later, I heard the soft creak of the front door opening again, followed by the faint sound of wheels on hardwood.
“Kane?” I called.
“I’ve got someone here who’s dying to meet her nephew,” he answered, and the warmth in his voice made my chest ache.
He appeared in the doorway, carefully pushing Emma’s wheelchair. Her oxygen tank was clipped beside her as usual, but her eyes were wide and bright, a little misty, and locked completely on the bundle in my arms.
“Hey, Em,” I said softly, shifting Ezra slightly to give her a better view. “You ready to meet someone?”
Emma was already nodding, swallowing hard. “I’ve been ready since you sent that first picture,” she said. “I might cry. Just a warning.”
Kane gently wheeled her to the side of the bed and locked the wheels before stepping back to give us space.
I sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Ezra against my chest. He was bundled tightly in a soft blue blanket, his tiny fingers curled into fists. He’d just finished nursing and was dozing, his little breaths warm against my collarbone.
Emma’s eyes widened the moment she saw him clearly. “Is that him?” she whispered, almost reverently.
Kane smiled as he pushed her closer. “That’s him, firecracker. Meet Ezra.”
She covered her mouth like she was witnessing a miracle. “He’s so small! He’s like... a cinnamon bun with legs.”
I laughed softly. “A very sleepy cinnamon bun.”
Ezra stirred, letting out a quiet sigh that made Emma gasp again. “Oh my gosh, he made a noise. That means he likes me, right?”
Kane crouched beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It means you passed the first test.”
“Can I hold him?” she asked, eyes flicking between us. “I promise I won’t drop him. I’ve practiced on Sir Fluffington like, a thousand times.”
Kane reached for Ezra with practiced hands, lifting him carefully and lowering him into Emma’s waiting arms. My arms hovered, ready to assist, but Emma held him steady, her small hands trembling just slightly.
Ezra let out a soft coo and shifted, his head nestling into her arm.
Emma’s face melted. “Ohhh… he’s perfect.”
She looked up at us, tears forming in her eyes but not falling yet. “I’m an auntie. Like, for real. Not just the pretend kind when I name stuffed animals after people.”
“You really are,” I said, brushing a loose curl from her forehead. “And he’s lucky to have you.”
Ezra wriggled and gave a tiny hiccup. Emma beamed like the sun. “That was a hiccup of approval. I can tell.”
Kane chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You’re gonna teach him all your tricks, huh?”
“Oh, for sure,” she said proudly. “How to win at Uno, how to bribe a nurse with stickers, and the correct amount of whipped cream on hot chocolate—not the hospital version. They never get it right.”
I grinned. “You’re going to be his favorite person.”
“Obviously,” she said with a smirk. Then her tone softened. “He’s safe now… right? Like, forever safe?”
I nodded. “Always. You and him both.”
Emma leaned forward, placing the softest kiss on Ezra’s head. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “I’m your Auntie Emma. And you’re not allowed to cry too much because your mommy’s tired and your daddy’s kind of dramatic.”
“Hey!” Kane said, mock-offended.
Emma giggled. “It’s true.”
We all laughed, and for a moment, there was no sickness, no oxygen tanks, no past pain. Just us—whole, together, wrapped in the warmth of new beginnings.
One month after Ezra’s birth
WEDDING DAY – NINA
October 31st. The day it rained and then stopped. The day I became his wife.
The church wasn’t perfect.
Its bones were old, weathered by time and storms. The floor creaked with every step. Some of the stained-glass windows were still fractured—sharp lines slicing through saints and angels—but the light that poured through them cast gold and crimson halos across the floor. It wasn’t pristine. It wasn’t polished.
But it was ours.
Kane found it a year ago—abandoned, hidden behind overgrown trees and rusted gates. He didn’t tell me. He just started rebuilding it. Quietly. Piece by piece. He restored the altar, cleaned the stone walls by hand, and replaced every candleholder. He kept the cracks in the pews, the ivy crawling up the pillars. He left the wildness untouched.
Because he said it reminded him of me.
That’s where we stand now. At the edge of forever. Surrounded by candlelight and shadow. And it was silent.
No piano. No choir.
Just the sound of Ezra’s soft babble in the front row and the hush of breath as I stepped into the aisle.
I didn’t need music. I had him.
Kane was standing at the altar, dressed in deep black from head to toe—sharp and still like a statue carved in grief and grit. His eyes locked on mine the second I appeared at the church doors, and he didn’t look away. Not once. Not even to blink.
I wore a champagne silk dress with long sleeves and a deep, low back. The train was soft lace, just long enough to kiss the stone floor. My veil was sheer and simple, clipped into my curls with an antique pin from his late mother’s jewelry box. The same one she wore when she married his father.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. My hands trembled around the bouquet of white roses and dried heather, bound with black velvet ribbon.
But when I reached him—when Kane took my hand in his—it stopped.
Everything stilled.
The storm. The ache. The fear.
Gone.
Only him.
He looked at me like I was salvation wrapped in silk. Like he’d built this entire church just so I’d have somewhere sacred to stand when I said “yes.”
And then the priest spoke. Gentle, unobtrusive. His voice is low and warm, like a lullaby.
“We are gathered here not for tradition,” he said. “Not for performance. But for love. For redemption. For the kind of promise that doesn’t break.”
Kane’s hand tightened around mine.
“I know,” he whispered. “I know this part of our story is real. Because I feel it in my ribs.”
Then came the vows.
We wrote our own.
Kane went first.
He didn’t speak loudly. His voice was rough—like gravel scraped clean with tears. But he never looked away.
“I used to believe love was a punishment,” he said. “Something you survive. Something that burns and leaves nothing behind but ash and regret. And then I met you. And you looked at me like I was worth saving.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“You saw every scar, every wrong choice, every broken thing inside me—and you didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. You just stayed. So now I swear to stay too. Not because I owe you. Not because I need to. But because I want to. I will love you on your soft days, and your hard ones. I will protect you, choose you, and make room for every version of you that’s still healing. I will be your safe place. And I will never let you fall alone.”
The room was silent.
Ezra let out a soft coo. It almost sounded like a sigh.
I stepped closer, eyes blurring, and took a breath that felt like a beginning.
“My whole life,” I said quietly, “I felt like I was too much for people. Too angry. Too soft. Too sad. Too loud. I tried to be smaller. Easier. Lovable.”
Kane blinked hard, his throat working.
“And then you showed up, this storm of a man with gentle hands. And you made me feel hot, achy but safe—not despite who I was, but because of it. I swear to hold you on your worst days and never ask you to be someone you’re not. I promise to raise our son with you in honesty and fire. To fight with you, not against you. To keep choosing us—even when it’s hard. Especially then.”
I reached for his cheek, brushing my thumb just beneath his eye. “You are not broken, Kane. You’re just becoming. And I love every part of you.”
There were no dry eyes left. Not even Kendrick and Emma were basically bawling their eyes out. She sat in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube attached to her nostrils as she smiled emotionally at us. My parents and sister were right here, all smiles.
Just a week after birthing Ezra, my mom came to me with Jenna and apologized. It turned out Jenna’s husband was part of a disturbing cult that trafficked human body parts for profit. Jenna and Mom barely escaped with their lives. Afterward, they were overwhelmed with guilt for how they had treated me for the past thirty years. I still didn’t trust them—maybe I never would—but I allowed them to attend the wedding.
The priest nodded once, like something holy had passed through the room. “You may kiss your bride.”
And he did.
Slow. Careful. Devastating.
Like a man sealing a prayer.
Like he’d waited his whole damn life to deserve it.
The kiss wasn’t loud or desperate. It wasn’t for the audience.
It was for us.
And in that moment, there were no ghosts. No past. No pain.
Just me. Him. And a promise carved into candlelight.
\---
Later, at the reception:
Jazz played in the background. Guests laughed softly. Ezra slept curled on Kendrick’s shoulder, a little wolf plushie tucked beneath his chin.
Kane and I slow danced in the center of the room, arms around each other like we were afraid to let go.
“I didn’t think I could have this,” he murmured, lips at my temple. “This kind of peace. You, a son, a wedding.”
“You didn’t find it,” I whispered. “You built it.”
He smiled against my skin. “No. You built it. I just followed your light.”
\---
And when the night ended, and the candles burned low, and the guests were gone, Kane and I sat barefoot on the church steps beneath the stars, hands twined, heads touching.
No one spoke.
Because some moments don’t need words.
They just need forever.