Page 73 of Thorned Vengeance

“I love you, too.”

EPILOGUE

THORN

One month later…

“Where have you been?”

I shove the small box into my pocket and stride toward Soul. He’s sitting at the bar with a few other brothers, and they’re all nursing beers.

“Isn’t it a bit early for booze?” I ask, pretending I didn’t hear his question.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Spike quips. “Or so they say.”

“Did you see the news this morning?” Malice asks, his expression guarded.

I nod. It was hard to miss. The FBI finally released an official statement about The Phantom Strangler. My mind replays the coverage.

“After a month-long investigation, the serial killer known as the Phantom Strangler has been identified as Shawn Miller from Glendale, Arizona. He also went by the name Morgan Ralph Stent for his true crime blog,” the reporter states. “Miller was found in the home of his first victim, Tamara White, in what has been ruled a suicide. There were injuries to his genitals, and the FBI reports that they believe someone identified Miller as the Phantom and attacked him. They further report that evidence suggests that, once he was identified, Miller took his own life so he wouldn’t face a long prison sentence.” The reporter clears her throat, her expression dismayed. “Law enforcement across the globe have been able to link thirty-two murders to Miller, and they span seven countries. In the house where Miller died, a box of jewelry was found, and each item was identified as belonging to his victims.”

“Mark, Abyss, Jacob, and Rogue did a damn good job at the crime scene,” Soul says with a grin. “They left no trace of you or De.”

“It’s the club’s best cleanup job yet,” I concur. Scanning the room, I frown when I don’t see Delaney. “Speaking of De, where is she?”

“She said you knew,” Spike comments.

I narrow my eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I did.”

“She and the girls went to Fists of Fury, and then they’re going to Persuasion Ink.”

“Shit, that’s right,” I mutter. “Totally forgot.”

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Grim signs. “Everything okay?”

I’m not distracted. I’m fucking nervous.

“Yeah, it’s all good.” I start toward the member’s wing, calling over my shoulder, “Don’t drink too much, brothers.”

Their laughter follows me down the hall. When I reach my room, I flatten my palm against the sensor, and the door slides open. Stepping across the threshold, I smile.

Delaney’s belongings are strewn all over the room. She moved in shortly after we purged the Phantom, and I can’t imagine my life without her. Bound by tragedy and vengeance, we’re two sides to the same fucked-up coin.

Since we’re both aware of how fragile life is, we make a point to enjoy every second of every day. To that end, we made a pact to have date night once a week, just the two of us. I never want to take her for granted, and with what Saints Purgatory does, it’s too easy to get lost in the dark.

Tonight is date night, and I have every intention of leading her to the light.

Delaney

“He’s dead, Delaney,” Mom cries. “It’s finally over.”

The conversation with my parents plays over and over again in my brain. I’m thankful to the club for setting it up so all the families could get closure for their loved ones, especially my parents. I couldn’t have lived knowing Shawn Williams was dead and not telling my parents that they no longer have to worry about him. Every city that lost someone to the Phantom Strangler held a vigil for the victims and their families, and it was a beautiful way to honor those he killed.

Thorn went with me to Alabama for our town’s celebration of Daphne’s life. My parents absolutely adore him. They think he balances me out. Thorn doesn’t put up with my shit, but he also encourages me which is a huge plus to them. He helped me dig a hole at her gravesite to bury her locket while my parents stood nearby with tears streaming down their faces. At first, they wanted to keep the necklace with them, but I reminded them how much she loved that piece of jewelry, and how much her family meant to her. In the end, they agreed and accompanied us. It’ll take time for all of us to heal, but we’re getting there.

“We should think about adding another class,” Knuckles says as he bounds onto the mat. “I didn’t realize how popular these would be.”

After Daphne’s vigil, I decided Alabama was no longer home. I packed everything and moved into the clubhouse to be with Thorn. I approached Knuckles with the idea to provide self-defense classes for women and children. He went to the club, who unanimously agreed, providing that I teach the classes. The club felt the clientele would feel more at ease with a woman than with a hulking male. It’d also show that no matter your size, you can defend yourself. The classes filled up quickly, and we now have a waiting list.

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