Page 113 of Peaceful Chaos

The surveillance van has speakers mounted on top disguised as a ventilation unit. He cues up a recording I haven't heard before. I knew Lucien had taken some video and audio files from our father's hidden cameras, but this is something else.

Pierce's voice is easily distinguishable on the recording. "If I do this, you won't expose my husband's proclivities?"

A dark chuckle rumbles through the speakers. It's a sound I won't be forgetting in this lifetime. Damien responds, "Yes, if you pin everything on Jackson Whitmore, I will hide your husband's love of fucking young boys."

She sighs audibly on the recording. "What exactly am I pinning on Mr. Whitmore?"

Pierce tries to save her reputation by screeching over the recording. "This is lies. Some kind of audio manipulation."

Lucien pushes more buttons on his phone, and all around us the sounds of phones pinging with notifications goes off. Pierce's face goes white as paper. "No worries, I've got video they can authenticate."

Their conversation overwhelmed part of what Damien was saying, but the important bit rings out clear. "You know exactly what I want you to pin on him. It isn't like he didn't kill all those men."

"I'm not comfortable charging a young man with murders you forced him to commit under threat of the death of himself or anyone he cared about. A young man who you kidnapped at four-years-old, prostituted out, and then held at gunpoint to kill until he finally escaped. Find another patsy," she snaps.

Another laugh. I could almost picture the smug amusement on his face while he watched her squirm. "That's a shame. I'll find someone else to do what I want. Everyone has their price, Mrs. Pierce."

"I'll stop you," she swears. I almost feel bad for her. If it weren't for her loyalty to a pedophile, I might think she had morals.

"No one will believe you when I send out these pictures of your husband on one of his last trips to Southeast Asia. Or," there's a sound of paper hitting a desk, "how about these pictures of him with Jackson?"

Lucien winces. None of us relish exposing Sin's secrets to the world. He should get to choose how much people know about the horrors he endured.

Sin takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders back. A look of determination crosses his face, and he reaches out to squeeze Lucien's shoulder. "It had to be done. I can't change the past, and hiding it won't help me get past it."

Lucien still looks conflicted, despite Sin's reassurance. He cuts the audio feed off. "You'll forgive me, but I did blur the photos you just heard mentioned in the recording. None of those victims deserve to be traumatized again by the evidence of these crimes being used as a way to boost ratings."

"DA Roberta Pierce, you're under arrest," Grant says while one of the officers standing by cuffs her.

"Let's get all of you home. I'll make sure to get a judge to shut down these bullshit charges officially. You've all done enough," Javier reassures us.

He tosses Lucien a set of keys. "Take the SUV. I'll make sure to wrap up everything here. I mean it. Go home and rest."

* * *

The rideback to the apartment complex is somber. Damien's gone, but there's too much trauma to even think of celebrating. We certainly won't be grieving for him though. He will, as Lucien swore, simply cease to exist.

Forgetting him won't be easy because his evil shaped all our lives. Natalie lost her childhood and then her children. She gets a fresh start with Tempest, and I'm happy for her.

David and Natalie load their car and buckle Tempest into the backseat. We exchange promises to keep in touch, but only time will tell if we will follow through. She's our mother, but we never got a chance to bond with her. And for her, seeing us will always be a reminder of the years she lost as the object of Damien's obsession.

I smile at Tempest and wave as they pull out of the parking lot. Maybe she's our reason to reach out again, but they'll need time first.

David says he's giving up the mantle of Martin Gerrick. His clubs, the guise of being a human trafficker, all of it will be passed down to someone else dedicated to working against slavery. The weight of that responsibility will be heavy, but I have to have faith the person who takes it up won't buckle under the pressure.

"What do we do now?" Ford asks while we stand outside our apartments. "What happens with Jenna's kid? I know Javier said to do nothing, but it feels wrong."

Lucien grunts. "We don't do a single thing. My uncle kept saying to let them do their damn job, so that's what we're going to do. As far as the kid. Fuck, man, I don't know.”

“I hope she doesn't get him back. Jenna is broken. Sure, that's probably Damien's fault, and it’s awful she’s being punished for being his victim. But that kid still doesn't need to be saddled with her. I have a feeling whatever deal they give her has her doing enough time to lose custody permanently. We're going to have to take a page from my uncle's book here and let the system handle it."

He's right. We fought for peace and found it inside chaos and bloodshed. It's never going to be perfect. There are too many victims, too much pain for us to wrap our happy ending in a bow. Not that we would because that isn't who we are. We found each other through pain and tied bonds in ribbons of trauma. Everything else might be up in the air, but I know one thing for sure. Each and every single one of these imperfect people are necessary to me. We're family, and our bond goes deeper than blood.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm fucking hungry." Teddy breaks the silence, and his stomach grumbles as if to prove his point.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Jen asks.

"Because we're alive, and living requires food. You want to know what we do next?" Teddy looks at each and every one of us for a second, making us hang on his words. "Whatever the fuck we want. We're free. We talk, we laugh, and we eat some fucking pancakes."

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