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Titus

Four years later

The repetitive sound of gloves hitting bags and mitts has become white noise. Even in my office with the door closed, I can still hear the thwack, thwack, thwack . I don’t mind the constant soundtrack. It reminds me of everything we’ve accomplished.

I opened Cerulean Boxing Club a year after we’d dismantled the Echelon. We started in a small basement lease but quickly had to expand to a bigger place. We have self-defense and workout classes, but our bread and butter is training fighters, including a youth team. Turns out, all those years of underground fighting taught me a thing or two.

Ecker also took his years of experience and started a high-class alpha escort service. In a strictly managerial role, of course, or Sinclair would be leaving a bloody trail through the city. And Bishop, always the Renaissance man, tutors in between poker tournaments and renovating our dream house—white picket fence and all. Sinclair bounces between helping all of us. She’s been the strong backbone that has allowed all of us to pursue our dreams.

My office door flies open, and Penelope’s harried face pops in. Now the gym manager, she is unrecognizable from the frightful ghost-mouse we first met. She’s filled out her petite frame, gaining weight and muscle, and her dark hair, currently pulled into a high ponytail, is streaked with a vibrant burgundy. But the biggest difference is in how she holds herself, her confidence when she speaks.

Like right now, without any preamble, eye contact avoidance, or sirs, she shouts at me, “Her water broke!”

As if struck with a bolt of lightning, I launch out of my seat so excitedly, I bash my knee on the underside of my desk.

“ Fuck, fuck ,” I curse as I hop around it, hurriedly grabbing my keys and coat.

As Penelope and I rush out the gym, I holler at one of our coaches to hold down the fort. I thought I prepared myself for this moment. I knew it could come at any time. Especially being pregnant with twins, Sinclair was bound to go into labor early. But now that it’s here, it’s surreal.

There isn’t a single word that can encapsulate this wild storm of emotions whipping around inside me. I’m nervous, excited, scared shitless, happy beyond belief, giddy, and frazzled. When I hold out the key fob to unlock my truck, my hand shakes.

Penelope spots it too. “I’ll drive,” she says decidedly and swipes the keys from me. Too many thoughts are racing through my mind to formulate any kind of protest.

I haven’t been to a hospital since . . . since the Fortitude Trial. That hospital in my mind was as real as any made of brick and mortar. Memories I haven’t thought of in years come flooding back. That feeling of hopeless heartbreak crushes down on my chest as we make our way through the hallways. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach churn.

My feet stumble and I fold over, hands on my knees. Penelope turns around at my sudden stop.

“I can’t—I can’t bre—I can’t breathe,” I wheeze.

She rubs my back supportively. “Yes, you can. C’mon, Titus, you’ll feel better once you see her. Everything is going to be fine, Dad .” She smirks out of the corner of her mouth. I stand up, and she gives me an encouraging nod. “Ready?” 1

I suck down a deep breath then exhale. “As I’ll ever fucking be. Let’s do this.”

Those same near-crippling feelings linger until we reach her room. But the moment I see my beautiful omega sitting atop a yoga ball with my brothers at her side and our children in her belly, everything melts away.

All their faces light up when we enter.

I can’t resist going straight to Sinclair. I clasp her face between my palms and swoop down for a deep kiss. The rapid pounding of my heart calms at the feel of her lips. I pull away and push back the sweaty strands of hair that have spilled out of her bun. I soak in her bright blue eyes.

“ Hi ,” she says breathlessly.

A soft smile spreads on my lips. “Hi.”

Bishop

Several hours after the twins made their entrance earthside and all the nurses and doctors have left, I take a trip to the hospital café. I return with a tray of coffees and nudge Titus awake on a couch that is way too small for him to sleep on. Lying on his side, his body is like a bow, with his head on one armrest and his legs on the other.

He sits up and scoots over so I can sit next to him, stretching his neck side to side. “I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to sleep on this armchair .” He sighs, and I hand him a coffee. “Thanks, man.”

He takes a sip and looks over the room. Sinclair is asleep in the hospital bed, baby Everett equally peaceful after falling asleep nursing. Ecker is reclined in the room’s actual armchair, slowly rocking back and forth with our daughter, Ella, resting skin to skin on his bare chest under a blanket. I can just see the top of her little head. He doesn’t seem to even register my return, lightly squeezing each finger on her left hand.

“One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five,” he mutters softly, counting her tiny fingers. “One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five.”

The room feels almost cozy despite the hospital environment. Maybe it’s the lamps that are surprisingly warm without the overhead lights. Maybe it’s the view out the eighth-floor window of the stars twinkling faintly above the glow of the city at night. Maybe it’s the warm to-go cup in my hands or the lulling effect of Ecker’s repetitive whispers.

It’s probably all of those things, but that’s not what makes this sanitary and bleak room the happiest place in the world. No, those are all nice touches, but it’s the abundance of love that fills the space.

My brothers were my entire world. Then we met Sinclair, the fiery omega so filled with anger she was ready to burn down that world. In a way, I think she did. Nothing is the same as before.

But what grew from the ashes is more beautiful than anything I could ever imagine.

Glancing at Titus, I watch him swallow thickly, his jaw ticking.

I rest my shoulder against his and flick my chin at our family. “This is real, Ti. This . Not some fake memory meant to torture you.”

He told us the truth about his Fortitude Trial a few months after it, and I know that, even all these years later, it still haunts him.

He turns to me, and I realize tears well in his eyes. He gives me a watery, grateful smile. “I know.”

I don’t know if all our wounds inflicted by the Echelon will ever fully heal, but today the scars they left just got that much fainter.

And they lived happily ever after.

1. “Belong” by X Ambassadors