Page 104 of Property of Crypt Keeper

She raised an eyebrow. “It changes everything.”

“Not the important part,” I insisted as I gently squeezed her hand.

“And what’s the important part?” Her head tilted, her brow pinched, and she waited for my reply.

Before I answered, I looked from her… to Zara sleeping peacefully between us… then back again.

“You came back here. You stayed with me.”

Obviously uncomfortable with these new emotions, she swallowed hard. “So did you.”

I laughed softly. “Barely.”

“Barely still counts.”

We fell quiet again. There were still questions. Too many. The Doctor. Rafael. The experiments. The amplifiers. Those fucking cages.

Zara.

The impossible blood running through all of us.

In time, those answers would come. But not today. Today, we were alive. Today, the people I loved were safe.

For now, that had to be enough.

Hiding my wince, I leaned down and kissed her forehead. No urgency or desperation. Only certainty.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Then rested her head against my shoulder. “I suppose,” she murmured, “this is home.”

I smiled. “It always was.”

“For now,” she whispered, and I drew back.

“What?”

She grinned. “We need to get our own place. I’m not living with a bunch of man-children for the rest of my days.”

I chuckled softly in return, hissing when it made my stitches pull.

She glared and pointedly stared at my chest.

“I’m fine,” I insisted and pushed her head back to rest on me again as she huffed.

Outside, somewhere beyond the clubhouse walls, a motorcycle rumbled to life. The swamp stretched endlessly beneath the Louisiana sun. Peaceful. Beautiful. Hiding secrets older than most people’s memories.

The war wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. If anything… it had only just begun. But whatever came next—the Kings of Anarchy wouldn’t face it alone.

EPILOGUE

DEXTER

Three weeks. That was how long it had been since the cathedral collapsed. Three weeks since we’d dragged Crypt out of hell. Three weeks since I’d laid my hands on wounds no living creature should have survived.

He was healing. Slower than he’d admit. Still, faster than any doctor could likely explain.

The rest… none of us were healing from that.

I leaned against the clubhouse porch railing, staring out across the bayou. The swamp should’ve been peaceful. Usually, I found comfort and solace out here. Instead, it felt… strangely restless.