Yelena heads to her car with her husband in tow. Max and Elijah trail after their uncle and Boris. Already a new car approaches. The clean-up crew.
Behind us is a dead Spider. Before us, in the distance, is the New York City skyline, hazy in the summer morning.
Ian rubs his hands together and shoots Ren a look. “Anyone feeling like some ramen?”
Epilogue One
TRISTAN
A Few Months Later
Ivy climbs up the narrow red-brick building. The bottom floor of the four-story building is for office space.
My clients want a place to sit down and talk. I need somewhere I can take phone calls and process invoices. There is a garage next door where the fleet vehicles will be parked.
The top floor will be my home. Our home.
Isolde’s big blue eyes take in every inch of the building. Noticing the green ivy against the red brick. The thick black outlines of the square windows. A potted plant already sits in one of them. A moving in present from Luis.
“Okay?” I ask Isolde.
She has yet to say anything. That is neither a good nor a bad sign. My girl simply needs to see and think about everything at first.
I take her hand, crossing the leafy, tree-lined street.
She scans the offices as I pull her through the building, pulling her up the stairs. We head to the very top, and I unlock a black door.
We’ve been living the past few months out of the safe house in Queens. Isolde never went back to her old place. I’ve taken my time searching for properties, wanting to find the perfect home for us. This is the perfect time to move.
A new chapter, after killing the Spider family once and for all.
“Okay,” I say again.
The door opens to a short hallway. I flip the lights on. Ren, Lennie, and Harry Hallow worked together, moving all her stuff from her old place over.
She creeps from the hallway into the kitchen. The apartment is narrower than her last place, but it’s similar in setup, with the difference that there are two bathrooms instead of one.
I expect her friends over all the time, and that way if we ever have family stay over, there will be enough privacy.
The kitchen opens up into the living room. Isolde stares at the wall of windows.
The glass is slightly different, the windowpanes smaller. She glances over her shoulder at me. I smile.
She ducks her head back, taking in the exposed brick wall in the living room. Her hand trails along the green velvet couch.
I point. “Bedrooms through there.”
I’m trying to give her time to process, but it’s killing me. I wouldn’t have moved us here if I didn’t think it would work, but I want confirmation.
Isolde comes over, hugging me.
I wrap my arms around her, squeezing.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
“No, tell me your opinion.”
“I like it,” she admits, and I let out a breath.