"You mean he's running the Blood Pact," Colin stiffly corrected him.
"Seriously?"
"A lot of changes went down last night," Colin sighed. "I'm still getting my head around them all. But yeah, my intel tells me that Sylar is now the head honcho over at the rival gang, with some guy with a scarred up face."
Smith.
"And like I said, the Highway Reapers won't be causing you any trouble in the future. But I can't say the same for the Blood Pact. He might come looking for his sister."
"Let him come," Miles growled. "He'd have to catch us first."
"Good luck out there."
"Thanks, man. You too." Miles listened as the line went dead and then slowly hung up. Brea was peering anxiously at him through the glass, her eyes wide with desperation.
"So?" she prompted before Miles had barely had a chance to come out.
"Your brother is fine," Miles told her as he began swiftly returning to their motel room. He wanted to put even more distance between them and Colridge, especially if Sylar now had what was left of the Blood Pact at his disposal. What was to stop him chasing them down and killing Miles just so that he could have Brea all to himself again?
"He is?" Brea's voice brightened with hope. "Really?"
"Yes, but we can't stay here," Miles paused to turn around and place his hands upon her delicate shoulders. "We have to keep running, Brea. We're still not safe."
Her beautiful features scrunched up in confusion.
"We need to outrun our past, Brea," Miles squeezed her shoulders protectively. "We're both connected to the packs. We need to drive until the highway becomes just a hazy blur around us. We need to drive and never look back. Are you with me?"
"Always," Brea didn't even pause to consider her response. "Miles, I'm always with you."
"I love you," Miles lowered his head to press his lips against hers. She kissed him back passionately, confirming that she loved him too.
Epilogue
The late afternoon sunlight warmed Brea's bare legs as she locked up the door in front of her. She was closing up early for the day seeing how it was a special occasion. She was smiling to herself and humming as she turned the key in the lock. The wording painted on the glass door read ‘Brea's Tattoos'. There was no need for a metal shutter, the locked door would suffice. This was a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where people paused to greet one another on the street and smiled and waved when they drove by in their cars. It was the kind of place Brea had always hoped she'd someday live in.
Walking away from the store she owned, Brea held her head high. She headed over to a nearby parking lot where her bright red convertible was parked, waiting for her arrival. From the lot, she could see the ocean, which sparkled in the sunlight like the rarest of jewels. Brea took a moment to enjoy the stunning view, as she often did. She could taste the salt in the air and it tasted good. Everything here was so fresh, so perfect. Eventually, Brea climbed into her car and turned on the engine. It purred like a kitten as she manoeuvred out of the parking lot and commenced on the short drive home.
As she drove, the ocean remained on her right, reminding her of how beautiful this part of the world was and how lucky she was to live in it. Several cars honked at her as they passed, most just waved. Everyone in town knew Brea. She'd even worked on most of them. People knew her name and they liked her. They'd stop by her store just to catch up and ask her how things were. But no one knew about the past she'd been running from for so long. All they knew was that she'd been drawn to their beautiful coastal town and had decided to set up a shop there and plant some roots for her future. And who could blame her? They lived in their very own little slice of heaven.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the high rise condominiums in which Brea now lived. She parked in her usual spot and glanced at the distant turquoise waters of the complex's communal swimming pool and considered taking a quick dip. She started and ended most of her days with a brisk swim and it showed. Her golden legs were sculpted and made her look athletic and healthy. Even her dark hair had turned as golden as the sun which kissed it daily.
Brea decided that she didn't have time to swim. She instead headed towards the main building.
"Hey, Frank," she smiled warmly at the uniformed security guard drinking his coffee in the reception area.
"Hey, Brea. You're home early," Frank noted kindly.
"Yep, it's a special day today," Brea grinned excitedly at the old man as she hurried for the stainless steel doors of the waiting elevator.
"He already told me," Frank laughed jovially. "Have a nice night, Brea."
"You too," Brea called out as the doors closed on her and started taking her up to the eighth floor. They opened once again with a soft ping and Brea entered a lavishly decorated hallway. There were solid wooden floors and beige walls decorated with fancy pieces of art. It was a beautiful building to live in. But the real selling point was the view. Brea let herself into her condominium and held her breath, just as she always did. The far wall was made entirely of large windows which boasted a spectacular view of the ocean beyond. It was simply beautiful.
"You're home," Miles was striding over to her. He quickly enveloped her in his powerful arms and kissed her. Brea melted against it. The best part of coming home was being with Miles. He still smelled of oil from his day spent working as a mechanic, but Brea liked it. She clung to him tightly, trying to drink him all in.
"How was your day?" Miles asked as they eventually parted.
"It was great," Brea smiled. And it truly had been. She'd worked on two new clients today. Everyone had loved her work and gushed about it to her. The look on their faces, as they admired Brea's art, which had been permanently inked into their skin, was priceless. Each time, Brea would swell with pride and remember what had drawn her to becoming a tattooist in the first place.
"And it's about to get even better," Miles was disappearing towards the sleek modern kitchen, which was attached to the main living area. The entire apartment was based on an open plan creating a ton of room and brightness. Glorious natural light flooded in through the large windows making everywhere seem even more perfect.
When Miles returned, he was carrying a small gift bag which appeared to be from the boutique jewelers in town. Brea's face lit up as he handed it to her.
"You didn't have to get me anything," she swiftly protested.
"Of course I did," they sat down together on their leather sofa as Brea opened the bag. "You already gave me my gift." Miles made a fist, revealing how Brea's name had recently been tattooed across his fingers.
Brea rummaged through the tissue paper, to find a small black box at the base of the bag. Her heart was racing as she pulled it up to her chest and slowly opened it. In the box was a beautiful golden ring with diamonds set in it to the shape of a perfect bow. It was beautiful. Each precious stone sparkled magically in the sunlight.
"Oh, Miles, it's perfect," Brea gushed. It was the ring she'd admired in the window as they'd been walking through town together on one lazy Sunday afternoon.
"The lady at the store said the size should be fine but, if not just pop in and ask for Giselle."
Brea was only half listening as she slipped the ring onto her left hand. It went nearly all the way to her knuckle but was blocked by the golden band which was already sitting there. Brea extended out her hand and admired her new ring.
"I love it."
"And I love you," Miles reached over and cupped her head in his hands, kissing her softly. "Happy one-year anniversary, baby," he murmured contentedly.
Brea closed her eyes and let the kiss deepen, remembering how a year ago, she and Miles had driven up to Vegas and made a promise to love each other forever. They were done running, done hiding from demons that might not even be chasing them. As man and wife, they made the decision to find a town in California that they both liked and stayed there. And now a whole year had passed and life was better than ever, better than Brea could ever have imagined it would be.
"I was thinking we could go grab dinner at the fish place we like down by the docks," Miles said when their kiss ended. Brea reached for his recently tattooed fingers, interlocking them with her own. She loved how small her hand felt when she placed it in his. Miles always made her feel so safe, so protected.