46. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Some people have to die.

Not as the natural order of things.

Not because the Earth needs to be less populated.

Some people just have to die because they broke Voltage rules.

And guess what? That's totally okay with me.

It always has been.

Despite what Carter thought, I loved listening to his and Killian's stories. They're both such ass-kicking alphas, maintaining the peace in the animal kingdom like they do.

I love it tenfold when they tell me about the morons who disrespect us and our relationship, and what they do to them.

That's a rare occurrence, though. After all, the criminals of New York and its surroundings aren't stupid.

Most of them aren't.

Most of them didn't even care that we're together, and very few pulled out of their memberships. No one lamented them leaving. Better off this way.

But those who stayed and were still hateful jerks got punished.

In our office.

They let me watch for a while. That was until their super sperm knocked me the fuck up.

"I'm not sure being around blood and people screaming will be good for the twins," Killian said at one dinner when I asked to join. "Even in the womb."

"Please, I just want to see." I gave him my biggest puppy eyes, batting my eyelashes at him.

His stern expression told me he wasn't falling for that.

Neither had Carter. He dropped a chunk of sticky rice in his mouth, then pointed the chopsticks at me. "They hear everything in the womb, you know."

We couldn't do a DNA test to determine who the father was, since they weren't reliable for twins. But during the entire length of the pregnancy, it hadn't mattered to either of the men.

We were family, the three of us. We'd test them later—despite Carter's aversion to it—though it wouldn't change a thing. These men would be their fathers and I'd be their mother, end of story.

The two men who stroked my belly every chance they got. Who'd been researching, and reading, and took me to the best doctor in New York. Who'd made the perfect nursery for our future babies in Carter's old room.

They made me so happy, I thought I'd die. These men were nothing like my parents. They loved the babies from the moment my pregnancy test showed we were expecting, and they loved them hard.

This new side of them was so endearing.

Besides the no-watching-violence bit. That pissed me off.

"Baby, I swear." Carter grasped my hand while Killian wiped a silly tear from my cheek. Freaking hormones. "The moment these munchkins pop out of you, you can join us whenever you want."

I frowned, but what could I say? He had a point.

I'd been patient for the nine months I carried our babies. And now they're out.

Our babies. Ours. Literally, too. Skyla, our girl turned out to be Carter's, and Ares, our boy, is biologically Killian's.

Our black-haired kid and the blond one.

Who currently sleep at Luna and Julien's apartment until their parents' date night is over.

"See, I heard you were talking shit about our woman." Carter twirls Cyclone in his hand.

Every time the blade swings, it nearly cuts through Dorothy's green eye. The blond drug dealer flinches, although that's the most she can do. Being tied to a chair kind of limits her movements.

"I only said—"

Carter spins Cyclone one last time. Then he sinks it into Dorothy's shoulder.

Her scream gets me all warm and fuzzy inside. I shrug off my restricting black suit jacket—I've opted out of my colorful clothes to match outfits with my partners today—and toss it on the desk behind me.

The desk of our office.

Killian—who already removed his jacket—rolls up his sleeves. Each inch reveals more of his sexy forearms, more of his enchanting tattoos. To the old and the new ones he added.

Amara and Carter are etched on his right wrist. Skyla and Ares on the left.

He grabs the woman's head, yanking it back without an ounce of mercy.

She screams again. I giggle.

"There's no only, Dorothy." He's talking to her, but he's looking at me. "You broke rule number three"—our latest and bestest —"which is—no one calls Amara a gold-digging whore and lives to see another day."

"No one." Carter's grin widens as he drags the knife from her shoulder down her arm.

Blood oozes out of the gash, painting her skin red.

"Can I help?"

Carter's gray eyes rise to meet mine. Both men look at me curiously.

"Help with what, beautiful girl?"

I bat my eyelashes innocently. "Can I kill her?"

Their knowing smiles are all the answers I need.

It's not like I crave murdering people left and right. I'm actually fond of Voltage's members and staff. They seem genuinely nice. Plus, they visit my shop and buy my flowers. Lots of them. Carnations is thriving with two new employees and a second floor added for Opal to do our flower arrangements without a soul bothering her.

When people wrong us, though, I'm insatiable. I become a little vampire, thirsty for blood like my babies are for my milk.

"There you go, pet." Carter offers me his knife.

Dorothy's screams are now annoying, pathetic sobs.

"You should've thought about that before you decided to be a bitch." I shake my head at him, whipping off my belt. "I would suggest you choose your words wisely next time."

I meander toward the back of the chair. Carter grabs my chin, crushing his lips to mine in a quick, forceful kiss.

He lets me go, and as I make it behind Dorothy, Killian releases her hair to press a panty-melting kiss to my mouth too. His firm palm cups my cheek, his teeth spearing into my bottom lip.

There's no hiding the big-ass smile on my face.

Their love gives me life.

And it makes taking Dorothy's that much more entertaining.

"Except there won't be a next time." I loop the black leather belt around her neck. "Nice knowing ya."

Her little strangled choking sounds are our soundtrack for the next ten minutes or so. I allow her to breathe a couple of times, torturing her by letting her believe I'm having second thoughts about killing her.

I don't.

"A, that's enough playing with your food." Carter places a hand on my shoulder. His tone isn't reproachful. He's amused.

"You're one to talk." Killian's voice is equally entertained.

"I was right," Dorothy mumbles from beneath me. "You three really are—"

My belt almost slices through Dorothy's throat with the effort I'm putting into choking her.

Her eyes bulge and veins explode in them. Spit flies from her mouth and lands on her white blouse. Her fingers clutch helplessly against the belt.

"You just had to go and ruin all the fun for me." I lean over her, filling her view. "Goodbye, asshole."

A minute later, her head lulls to the side, her eyelids closing.

"Lance, we're done," Carter barks to the phone on my side while he rubs my forearm.

Killian does the same on my left arm. "You did so well, beautiful girl."

His praise washes over me, his lips landing on my neck. I release my grip on my belt, tilting my head back for Carter to join us. He does, ending his phone call, sliding his hand to my breast and his lips to my neck as well.

"I love you," Carter grunts, his words meant for our ears.

My skin tingles when their lips trace higher to my jaw, my chin, my lips.

"I love you," Killian murmurs against our mouths. The words come easier for him today than they had almost a year ago, but it's cute how he still fights them sometimes.

"And I love you." I dart my tongue out, tasting the mint on Killian's lips and the bloodthirst on Carter's.

This world may not be perfect. My history may be riddled with sadness and disappointments.

But this moment is right. Our family is right.

And our future is a motherfucking bright one, too.

Because it's no one else's but ours.

The end.

Keep reading for a sneak peek of Breaking the Girl, my dark best friend"s dad romance that"s coming this August 8