Page 104 of Anthony Hawk

The cabin door creaked as Anthony opened it, revealing the modest interior. Abigail stepped inside, brushing her hair back and letting her eyes linger on the small kitchen, the simple furnishings, and the corner where a modest stack of belongings had been arranged neatly.

Anthony ran a hand over the worn wooden table, the grain smooth from use and care. “It’s enough,” he said. “It’s more than enough after everything we’ve been through.”

He caught her hand as she moved past him, guiding her to the small porch outside. Together, they sat on the railing, letting the quiet stretch between them for a moment.

The cabin was their sanctuary. Finally, the chaos that had once defined their lives was settling into order.

The Winchester rifle Brigg had given him that day leaned against the railing, ever-present but no longer a tool of vengeance.

It was a reminder of vigilance, of the need to protect what they had built, but not a symbol of rage. He tilted his head, watching the sun glint off the water in the sluice below, and felt a rare peace settle in his chest.

“Think Brigg will ever stop teasing us about the undertaker’s table?” Abigail asked with a small laugh, her shoulder brushing against his.

“Not a chance,” Anthony replied with a chuckle. “But he’s earned the right to laugh now.”

“Then let him have it,” Abigail said, smiling. “We’ve got a future to build.”

Anthony rested his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “A future worth fighting for,” he said softly. “And one we’ll protect together.”

The railroad tracks snaked in the distance, forced to respect the land and the sacred springs, while Silver Cross began to flourish. Life, hard-fought and fragile, was finally taking root.

Anthony would always carry memories of the battles fought and the blood spilled. But now, he could also carry a life worth living.

He tightened his grip on the railing, glanced at Abigail, and for the first time in years, truly allowed himself to smile.

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