The Epilogue.

[Abel's pov]
When Evie said he's making mugs of tea, I felt freed and charged. My jacket was in my embrace, still wanting me to unleash its shiny, dangerous treasure. I released it like a bird caged for a decade, finally given a stage to perform an opera.
 
I looked at its sharpness and placed it beneath the rug under the table.
 
Eight quiet minutes passed, and...