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I pull the BMW off the logging trail, bringing us onto the quiet, open asphalt of the Blackwood Highway.

Our small town disappears behind us in the rearview mirror, swallowed by the rising sun and the dense mountain fog.

I glance over at Death as he rides shotgun, my fingers tightening on the leather steering wheel, my heart pounding with the dark, infinite possibilities of our future together.

I whisper, “Tell me more.”

Epilogue 1: No Regrets

NINE MONTHS LATER

July 30th

RYDER

The steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Harmony’s breathing fills the dim quiet of our bedroom.

I lie beside her, resting my head against the headboard, one arm propped under my head while my other hand rests lightly on the massive, taut swell of her pregnant belly.

The quiet room remains dark, lit solely by the gentle silver moonlight slipping through the blinds, creating soft shadows on her serene face.

My mind races in the dark, spinning out of control.

I never thought in a million years I would be married—least of all to Harmony Grove. I never imagined I’d be living in a quiet house far from Blackwood, wrapping my arms around the woman who ruined my best friend and carved a path of blood right alongside me.

Yet, here we are. Husband and wife. Dark soulmates bound by blood, secrets, and a ring on her finger.

And now, I’m about to become a father.

A cold, heavy knot tightens deep in my chest, a rare, terrifying knot of anxiety that has nothing to do with blades or visceral insides of another human being.

My mind drifts back to the dark, violent house of my childhood—to my father’s heavy boots on the floorboards, the reek of cheap whiskey, and the brutal beatings that carved me into the monster I became.

I’m terrified of the shadow lurking in my own blood.

I’m terrified of turning into him.

I don’t want to hurt this child. I just want to do right by my wife and our baby.

A sudden, sharp gasp shatters the silence.

Harmony’s eyes snap open, she slowly sits up in the bed as a wet, heavy splash soaks through the sheets beneath her. She clutches her stomach, her warm butterscotch eyes wild in the moonlight as she looks over at me.

“Ryder,” she rasps, her voice strained. “My water just broke. It’s time.”

The dread in my chest vanishes instantly, replaced by a surge of pure, electric adrenaline.

I spring out of the bed, my bare feet hitting the wood flooring as I move around to her side. I lift her gently into my arms, easing her off the mattress while she breathes through a sudden, sharp contraction.

I grab her pre-packed overnight bag from the corner of the room, escort her out to the car, and speed down the highway toward the hospital, my knuckles straining against the steering wheel.

We enter the hospital fully expecting it to be a while before we meet our little girl.

Three hours pass in an agonizing, suffocating blur of fluorescent lights, heart monitors, and hospital machinery.

Harmony lies on the delivery bed, her face pale, slick with sweat as another heavy contraction grips her body. Beside the bed, the heart rate monitor emits a sharp, rhythmic beep... beep... beep...

Suddenly, the tone changes. The steady rhythm drops into a slow, terrifying, sluggish warning.