Isobel had made it all the way to Toronto in record time. Exhausted and still steaming, she'd barely said a word when she'd crossed the threshold and dissolved into tears in her father's arms. Angus, the dark bruising of worry beneath his eyes, held her draped in his lap in his armchair like she was the little girl who would curl up against him for comfort, and rocked her until she was spent.

They'd barely had more than a couple hours to talk, to pour it all out between them when Isobel decided it was time to turn on her phone. To call Shayne.

And then the messages poured in, a thick and relentless flood of despair.

She'd been on the next flight out to Washington with only vague assurances from Priya that they were all there and Marco was in the midst of his second surgery.

Crossing through the main doors of Washington General, it wasn't hard to spot Priya, pacing wildly. She was dressed in a pair of slacks and button up shirt that somehow made her look more corporate lawyer than business casual and spoke volumes: she wasn't here only as Shayne's friend, but as her lawyer.

"Oh, you're here." Isobel found herself in Priya's arms and held on tight as a tremor of relief poured through her. "Where is she?"

"Waiting." Priya drew back, and tugged an ear bud from her left ear, the wire connected to her phone clutched in a tight grip. Her knuckles white. "Come, I'll get you past the gatekeepers, and then you'll have to follow the signs from there." Priya tugged her along, rounding the waiting room reception desk with a warning glance at the volley of works perched behind it, fielding ringing phones and a slew of patients waiting to be admitted.

"Why?"

"Because I'm juggling two very important phone calls between a judge and three lawyers regarding Shayne's proxy as Marco's power of attorney."

A wave of nausea rolled across Isobel like a steamroller, flattening her with the weight of sickening grief. "Oh, Priya."

"I won't lie, it's bad, but Shayne can tell you more. Second floor, B Wing." Priya instructed, gesturing with shooting movements of her hands. Her dark hair was a mess but her eyes were clear, though the edges of sorrow were unmistakable around her eyes and mouth. For all her bravado, she was hurting just as deeply as all of them, but someone had to hold it together for Shayne.

To be her strength where she had always been theirs.

"I'm sorry," Priya sighed as her phone flashed in her hand, vibrating loudly. "That's the judge. I've got to take this. Can you manage?"

Isobel nodded as Priya whisked around with a bright hello and stalked down the hall in search of a quiet corner. Even with her harried instructions, finding Shayne wasn't difficult. But at the sight of her, Isobel's determined steps faltered.

She was slumped in a seat, head in her hands—finger curled in her mess of short hair and knees furiously bouncing. She was a picture of panic and Isobel couldn't get to her fast enough. Tossing her purse to the empty seat, she dropped to her knees and gathered Shayne by the shoulders.

A splotchy face with wet eyes lifted. Broke.

"I got here as fast as I could. I was already in the air when Cait...how is he?"

Shayne sucked in a phlemgy breath and pressed the back of her hand against her red nose. "Alive. Stable."

The heart that had refused to loosen from a hard knot in her throat eased the barest degree. He was alive. Still alive. Thank God.

"It's all so fucked up. I'm fucked up. I'm sorry. Bel, I'm so sorry."

Isobel squeezed her hand encouragingly and slid into the seat next to her. "We don't have to do this right now."

"No." Prying her hands free, Shayne swiped angrily at tears but more spilled. "Now is all we have. And I need to say this—for you to know..." Isobel watched, quiet and patient as Shayne pulled herself together, eyes closed and breathing determined. Balancing herself on the razors edge of emotional sanity. "Your dad begged me, Bel. Begged me. How could I say no when all he wants is what's best for you?"

"I understand that, but you still should've come to me first. Allowed me to be part of this decision." And she'd said as much to her father in their couple of hours together earlier this morning. "Would you have let him go? Not right away. But I'd like to think in time...As for Kyle...you didn't trust me with the truth. I deserved better from you, whatever your intentions." She rubbed a hand across her brow, working away the stiffness there. "Shayne, you can't do this anymore. I need you to step back and let me fail, if that's what it takes. It's my life, my choice."

Because that's what it boiled down to: choice and the loss of it. Too much had happened, in the last few months, that was stripped out of her grasp of control. Leaving her a cagey mess, feeling trapped, pressured and unsure as she marched towards an uncertain future.

Her body lurching forward with forced steps of change against her will or say so. Where questions loomed, dark and menacing, things she'd never stopped to think about or ask. To confront the terrifying truth when every facet of her being wanted to ignore it than to give in and embrace that change.

"But you weren't entirely wrong," Isobel confessed, dropping her hand back into her lap. "Part of me was lapsing—wanted to go back to him. To the simplicity of the old and the familiar. Where I felt safe." And God, how it hurt to admit that truth out loud. That weakness. "But I've realized I can't go back. Nothing will ever be the same again. And that scares me."

"I'm scared, too." Shayne whispered and pressed her lips into a hard line as if she didn't want to let the words out, to give breath to the deepest, darkest corners of truth most wouldn't dare let themselves explore or say aloud. "So much is changing with us—with all of us. Our lives and jobs and relationships, so fast and pulling us further and further apart.

I'm protective and sometimes I take it too far, I know, you guys are all I have. Not my parents—or my grandmother, even my brother is so tangled up in being the Golden Prince I had to adjust who I was for him whereas you are the only family who have truly accepted me as I am and I can't lose you. And here you were, moving so far beyond all of us." Shayne set her teeth into her bottom lip. Shook her head as more tears splashed onto her thighs, soaking into the dark denim like drops of ink.  "Marriage. Babies. I have no place in all of that."

"You're my family, Shayne. You will always be my family." Cupping her chin, Isobel angled her gaze so they were level, so there was no escaping what she was about to say. "I love you. Okay? I love you fiercely. Like Sheldon loves his spot."

Despite the infinite blackness of despair, Shayne's lips quirked into a murky smile. "I love you, too," she said. "Like Kanye loves Kanye."

#

Eshe watched with her back to the hall as Isobel and Shayne held each other, tangled mess of arms, tears and laughter. A picture that had relief and love swelling so bright inside of Eshe she was sure she almost glowed.

Eshe had arrived at the hospital moments ahead of Cait and Priya. In light of all that was happening around them, they'd embraced without words—without hesitation, a silent, unspoken agreement that despite everything—all was forgiven. But a small part of her worried that rift between Isobel and Shayne would not be so easily mended.

She could breathe a little easier now knowing that whatever their problems, there was hope. They would heal and the Sisterhood would remain whole. Thank god for small miracles.

Careful not to draw attention from Shayne and Isobel, Eshe cleared her throat gently and Cait—standing off to the sidelines, tucked against the corner—started at the sound and turned to face her, arms crossed and eyes bloodshot. Eshe imagined her own eyes, a puffy mess, appeared equally ravaged. For the last three hours they'd taken turns with one keeping Shayne company while the other had a crying jag in the hospital's restroom.

"Hey, sorry I was gone for long but I thought we all could use some coffee." Holding two cups of steaming Starbucks, she handed over the venti Americano, heavy on the cream and honey, just as Cait liked it. 

"Oh thank God. What're you drinking? Tea?" At Eshe's answering nod, Cait shook a pitying head. 

"Where's Priya? I got her a doppio espresso and a bottle of water."

"She mentioned something about finalizing Shayne's power of attorney for Marco and went to the nursing station to print out forms and call associates—all that legal jazz. Can't believe the hag wanted to pull him off life support." Cait's lip curled at the mention of the Duchess and Eshe's own insides ran cold.

"Me too. It's so vicious." A shiver snapped between Eshe's shoulders and set down the tray on the stretch of green vinyl covered hospital chairs. "Just got a message from Six, says she's about to leave Dulles airport. Should be here in the next half hour."

Cait hummed in answer, taking a careful sip of her very hot coffee. "Good. It'll be nice to have us all together. Complete. Been too long."

Eshe murmured her agreement and decided it was time to get it all out. "I want to apologize for how I behaved at the premiere."

Cait brushed her words aside with a sweep her of cup of coffee. "Don't. Please don't. I was the asshole who pushed and pushed when I shouldn't have. Even though you're absolutely brilliant for this campaign, I really was only thinking about myself and my own self-interest. I was wrong." 

"I appreciate that, but honestly my saying no had nothing to do with you. It's, well..." Eshe rolled her Starbucks between her palms, warming them through. What was it about grief and stress that made a body so cold all the damn time? "Charles was there, at the after party."

Shock washed over Cait and she jolted like an icy bucket had tipped over her head. "What? But how?"

Eshe nodded, laughed. "He blindsided me with Iona—that model who adores you, and promptly got inside my head because I let him. Again. I should've told you what happened but...I'm weak, Cait. He makes me so weak." A searing pinch at her thigh made Eshe realize she was digging her nails into that spot. Into the hard lines of scar tissue high on her inner thigh as a dark, secret voice whispered inside of her, begging for release.

A voice she'd worked so long and hard to forget.

Drawing in a firm breath, she pulled her hand away and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans. "So I want you to know that while I was gone, I also spoke to Althea and Tate. Briefly. But I've agreed to complete the job with Vogue for two reasons, one," Eshe quelled Cait's sputtered gasp with a lift of her fingers, "because you're in a proper mess with no way out, and two—most importantly—I need to do this for me."

"Esh—"

"I can't be afraid of him anymore. I can't be afraid of myself," Eshe interrupted, her voice rising as tears burned the back of her eyes—and dammit, she'd thought she'd cried herself dry twenty minutes ago. "We're strongest together. We've always been stronger together, and as long as I have you guys—I know I can do anything."

"Damn fucking straight," Cait whispered. Her own eyes shining. "Because we're the Stiletto Sisterhood. Now and always."

https://youtu.be/34Na4j8AVgA

**AN**

If you're reading this then CONGRATS - you've made it to the end of STILETTO SISTERHOOD.

Yes. The end.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Omg. Wow. This was one hell of an emotional journey. I can't believe this is the moment - the end. While I will be going back in and popping in a couple moments with Six and most likely an epilogue, this is where the story ends for book one and I couldn't be more proud.

So, I want to say last but most importantly -- THANK YOU for loving these girls as much as I do, for rooting and cheering and crying with them as they strut and stumble through the pages. 

I'm so proud of this story, of the girls I've created and the lives they are about to live.  

So, until Book Two debuts, as honourary members of the SISTERHOOD, get out there and chase all your dreams.

Conquer the world.

Slay.

And know my girls and I are cheering for YOU every step of the way.