Chapter 29 - Thalia
The Minneapolis airport buzzes with pre-holiday energy, Christmas decorations draped across every available surface in a riot of red and gold. Families rush past clutching suitcases and shopping bags, children squealing about Santa as harried parents check departure boards. The scent of cinnamon and pine mingles with jet fuel and winter air streaming through the automatic doors.
Somehow, the holidays arrived this year without me noticing them coming.
I grip Rafael's hand tighter as another wave of travelers surges around us.
"She's late," he says, checking his phone again. Through our bond, I feel his mix of excitement and concern. "Her flight landed twenty minutes ago."
"Maybe she got held up at customs?" My voice sounds higher than usual, betraying my nerves. I've faced down armed guards and criminal syndicates, but somehow the thought of meeting Rafael's sister properly has my stomach in knots.
He squeezes my hand, shooting me that crooked smile that still makes my heart skip. "She's going to love you.”
"You don't know that."
"I do." He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Because I do."
Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the crowd:
"Rafael Alexandros Diaz!"
A whirlwind of dark curls in an oversized sweater barrels into Rafael, nearly knocking him over. I’m momentarily terrified he’s going to tear open his stitches, but instead he laughs, picking her up and spinning in a circle.
"You absolute idiot," Camila barks even as she laughs too. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!”
"Missed you too, 'Mila." Rafael's voice is rough with emotion as he sets her down.
Then those bright dark eyes—so like her brother's—turn to me. They look scarily similar.
"And you must be Thalia." Before I can react, I'm wrapped in a fierce hug that smells like airport coffee and something floral. "Thank you for keeping this asshole alive."
"I... um..." I flounder, caught off guard by her immediate warmth. "He kind of saved me, actually."
Camila pulls back, studying my face with startling intensity. Whatever she sees there makes her smile soften into something genuine.
"From what I hear," she says, "you saved each other."
***
The following weeks unfold slowly, like the beginning of a long, deep breath. Winter deepens around us, each day passing with a quiet peace that feels almost surreal after everything that’s happened. The air is sharp, cold, and endlessly quiet—a kind of cold that cleanses, pulling you toward warmth and comfort.
Camila’s energy is a force of nature in this quiet. She and Rafael slip into a natural, easy rhythm, laughing and bantering over coffee, taking long walks through town, exploring the woods around the town. She forms a rapid —and frankly somewhat scary—friendship with Maia, who’s still staying in the clinic.
I watch her with a mix of awe and envy, absorbing the way she breathes life and lightness into everything. Someday, I’ll be that happy, I promise myself. It’ll happen. I just need to wait for it.
For my part, I find myself reconnecting slowly with the pack, beginning the work to rebuild trust and relationships. I have to admit to myself that it’s harder than I’d expected—but it’s also far easier in some ways. People here don’t want to see me as the enemy. They want to believe I’m truly on their side. And as I go from face to face, meeting people with apologies and explanations that sometimes feel raw and exposed, I find that the people here, for all they’ve been through, are remarkably forgiving.
One morning, I muster the courage to speak to Aris as he finishes training in the pack center gym. His form is still coiled with power, his gaze sharp, assessing, but as I approach, he softens.
“I owe you an apology,” I begin, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. "For everything. For not… for not coming clean sooner, for the danger I put you all in. Especially your family. I can’t undo it, but I can promise you it won’t happen again.”
Aris watches me quietly for a moment, then shakes his head with a small smile.
Thalia, we’re still here, aren’t we?” He sighs, then gestures out of the window, over the town. “Trust takes time. But you’re here. That’s enough for now.”
It’s enough. More than I expected.
The same pattern follows with the others, though some are warmer than others.
Percy, who still gives me a wink and a half-smile as if nothing has happened, saying, “Hey, someone’s gotta keep this place interesting. Guess it’s you this week.”
Bigby, who gives me a steady clap on the shoulder, gruff but supportive.
I even get a reluctant but unmistakable nod of approval from Byron, who’s usually the first to distrust.
Keira is clearly wary of me; Ado seems slightly uncomfortable, too. But I trust they’ll come around. I have to earn their trust, and so I will. I’m not afraid of hard work. How could I be, after what my life has been?
When I try to apologize to Olivia on a chilly morning, she tears up, then hugs me painfully tight, and tells me not to say another word, under threat of her anger. And so I don’t.
I run into Zane one evening as he’s locking up his… new van. I’m almost certain my mate didn’t pay for it in the end. I clear my throat, and he glances up, looking mildly surprised to see me there.
“I’m sorry he stole your van,” I offer. “And—I’m sorry for the rest of it, too. I put your family in danger. I know Maisie’s expecting. You don’t have to forgive me. But I wanted to apologize.”
Zane grunts, pretending to inspect the lock a little longer. “I think you’ve paid for it enough already.” He doesn’t say anything else, but as I turn to go, I catch him giving me a small smile.
The support of the pack is like a quiet, steady current under all the tentative steps I’m taking to repair things, each day chipping away a little more of the burden I’ve carried. Each moment strengthens the quiet belief I’ve dared to hope for—that maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a place here in the long term. It’ll take time, years maybe, but it’s a start.
***
The drive to Illinois feels longer than I remember. It’s two days before Christmas, and winter has stripped the trees bare, leaving skeletal branches stark against a steel-gray sky. Rafael drives while I stare out the window, watching familiar landmarks scroll past like scenes from someone else’s life.
“We can turn back,” he says softly when I tense at the Welcome to Illinois sign. “If you’re not ready.”
“I am.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I need to do this. Before we leave, before... everything. I need to tell him I’m okay.”
He nods, his hand resting lightly on the wheel, his gaze attentive and steady. The silent strength he radiates seeps into me, grounding me.
We drive through what was once my hometown. It’s a ghost-town now, empty, abandoned. I try not to look at the shells of the buildings, ruined by violence.
The cemetery looks exactly as I remember. Someone must still be maintaining it, because the wrought iron gates, carefully tended paths, and old oaks standing sentinel over rows of granite markers are all pristine.
Rafael parks but doesn’t move to get out, waiting for my signal. Through our bond, I feel his steady support, his willingness to follow my lead.
“Ready?” he asks quietly.
I nod, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat.
The snow crunches under our boots as we walk the familiar path. It’s been so long, but I know it like the back of my hand. I could find his grave blindfolded—third row from the tallest oak tree, just past the stone angel with the broken wing. How many times did I sneak here in those first terrible months after his death? I never even knew who erected his grave.
My father’s headstone rises from the snow, simple granite etched with dates that still, even after all this time, feel impossible. Warren James Reyes, beloved father, friend, protector.
The words blur as tears fill my eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” I whisper, kneeling in the snow. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
Rafael hangs back, giving me space while staying close enough to catch me if I fall. His presence wraps around me like a warm blanket, giving me strength to continue.
“I made it out,” I tell the stone, my voice breaking. “I’m free. And I... I found something amazing. Someone amazing.” I glance back at Rafael, managing a watery smile. “Actually, I found a whole family. I think you’d really like them.”
The wind stirs the branches overhead, sending snow drifting down like falling stars.
“This is Rafael,” I continue, reaching back. He steps forward immediately, taking my hand. “He saved me. In every way possible.”
Rafael kneels beside me in the snow, not caring about the cold seeping through his jeans.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” he says quietly. “I promise I’ll take care of her.”
I lean into Rafael’s warmth, letting the tears fall freely now. “Now that I’m free, I’m going to see the world, Dad. All those places you used to tell me about when I was little. I’m going to live the life you always wanted for me. And when I’m done exploring, I have a home to come back to. People who love me.”
My voice breaks completely on the last words. Rafael’s arms wrap around me as I cry, holding me together as everything I’ve kept locked away for ten years finally breaks free.
“He’d be proud of you,” Rafael says softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “He’d be proud of everything you’ve survived.”
We stay until my tears run dry and the cold begins to seep into our bones. Before we leave, I place a bouquet of fresh, white flowers on his grave. Silently, Rafael rises, placing the other bouquet on Maia’s father’s tomb. Right beside my dad’s.
“I’ll come back,” I promise, touching the cold stone one last time. “Before we leave. I’ll tell you all about where we’re going.”
The drive back to Rosecreek feels lighter somehow. I’ve left something heavy behind in that snowy cemetery. Rafael holds my hand over the center console, Christmas carols playing softly on the radio as dusk settles over the world outside.
“Thank you,” I say as we cross back into Minnesota. “For coming with me.”
“Always,” Rafael says simply, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles.
Rosecreek appears through the gathering dusk, Christmas lights twinkling in every window. As we pass the town square, I catch glimpses of the pack’s holiday preparations—Bigby directing the installation of an enormous tree, Byron and Zane bickering as they string lights across storefronts, children throwing snowballs in the park.
Home , I think, an unremarkable thought.
“Ready for our next adventure?” Rafael asks as we pull up to the pack center, where I can see Maia waiting on the steps for us with what looks like hot chocolate.
I look at him—at this man who crashed through all my walls and showed me what real love feels like. At Maia, who survived everything with me and still knows how to smile. At the pack, that’s become more family than captors ever were.
“Yes,” I say, and for the first time in my life, I mean it completely. “I’m ready for everything.”
The snow falls softly around us as we head inside, carrying the promise of holidays and new beginnings. Of adventures to come and a home to return to. Of a life finally, truly my own.