Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
NARLA
For a long moment, nobody moved.
The constructs had collapsed the instant Derren died—whatever animating force he’d provided vanishing with him, leaving only sad piles of bone and dead flesh. The harbor was a mess of destruction, dock boards splintered, seawall cracked, fishing boats knocked loose from their moorings.
But Haven Shores still stood.
And Derren was dead.
Narla’s knees gave out.
Wyatt was there before she hit the ground—shifted back to human, naked and bleeding from a dozen wounds but moving with the same fierce protectiveness he’d shown all along. His arms caught her, lowered her gently to the ground.
“I’ve got you.” His voice was wrecked—raw, ragged. “I’ve got you.”
She looked into his face—his beautiful, human face with its sharp cheekbones and worried eyes—and felt something break loose in her chest.
“He’s dead.” The words came out wondering. “He’s actually dead.”
“He’s dead.” Wyatt pressed his forehead to hers. “You killed him, Narla. Your magic. Your truth.”
“Aero’s fire. Avine’s sea—”
“Wouldn’t have worked without you. He’d have absorbed it, turned it against us.” His hands cupped her face, trembling slightly. “You’re the reason any of us survived.”
“We made it.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her, both of them breathing hard in the wreckage of the harbor. “Side by side.”
“Side by side.” She pressed her face into his chest. “Always.”
Around them, the community was beginning to stir. Wolves shifting back to human, checking on their packmates. Lions regrouping, tending wounds. Bears rumbling to each other in low, exhausted voices.
And above it all, two dragons circling—Aero still crackling with residual power, Delos trailing smoke from his final dive.
Avine reached them first, Theo close behind in human form. The innkeeper looked drained—calling that much from the sea had cost her—but her smile was fierce.
“Is it over?” Junie’s voice came from somewhere behind them, thick with exhaustion. “Is it really over?”
Aero landed nearby, shifting to human with the elegant economy of long practice. His ancient gaze swept the destruction, the ash pile that had been Derren, the battered but breathing defenders.
“The Devourer is dead. Truly dead—dragon fire leaves nothing to regenerate from.” His voice carried the weight of centuries. “The threat is ended.”
Avine leaned into Theo’s side, her face pale with exhaustion, her magic finally settling back to stillness. “Never pulled that much from the deep before,” she said quietly. “The tide nearly took me with it.”
“You were magnificent.” Theo’s arm wrapped around her. “Both of you.”
Narla heard the words. Understood them, intellectually.
But it wasn’t until Wyatt pulled her closer, until she felt his heart beating steady against her own, until the claiming mark pulsed warm on her shoulder with the proof of his presence—
It wasn’t until then that she finally believed it.
And now—
“I’m free.” The whisper escaped before she could stop it. “I’m actually free.”
“You are.” Wyatt’s voice was rough. “And I’m never letting you go.”
She laughed—or maybe sobbed, the sound somewhere between the two. And then she kissed him, there on the destroyed dock with the community watching and the ash of her monster drifting on the morning breeze.
She was free.
And she was home.
The sun rose fully over Haven Shores.
The battle was won. The monster was dead. The community that had rallied to fight was battered but not broken, already beginning the work of recovery and healing.
Narla stood in the harbor with her mate’s arms around her, watching the morning light spread across the water. The dragon-fire-strengthened seawall. The blessed ward-flags. The fishing boats that had survived, still bobbing.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now?” Wyatt’s chin rested on her shoulder, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “Now, we heal. Rebuild. Figure out what the rest of our lives look like.”
The rest of our lives.
Such a simple phrase. Such an impossible concept after so long living in fear.
She thought about what that might mean. Waking up without fear. Running her shop without looking over her shoulder. Watching her friends’ children grow up. Growing old with her mate.
A future. A real future. Not just endurance, but life.
She felt something shift in her chest—a burden releasing, a door opening. The last remnants of the fear she’d carried for so long, finally letting go.
“I love you.” The words came out without planning, without thought. “I love you, Wyatt Gentry. My suspicious sheriff. My overprotective panther. My mate.”
He turned her in his arms, and his expression—
She’d never seen him look that way before. Open. Vulnerable. Completely, terrifyingly happy.
“Again,” he said roughly.
“I love you.” She meant every syllable. “Every day. For the rest of our lives.”
His mouth found hers.
“That can be arranged.”
They kissed until Delos wolf-whistled from somewhere above, until Junie’s laughing voice demanded they get a room, until the community’s joy pressed in around them and gave the moment a purpose greater than just two people.
Haven Shores had won.
And Narla Wright—candle witch, survivor, claimed mate of the most suspicious sheriff on the West Coast—had finally found her way home.
After the wounded were tended, the dead were mourned, and the community began the long work of processing what had happened—Narla found a quiet moment on the rebuilt seawall.
The harbor cleanup had already begun. Junie’s potions were dissolving construct remains into harmless ash.
The wolves were patrolling the perimeter, ensuring no stray constructs had escaped the battle.
Aero was consulting with the Elder Council about how to report a Devourer sighting to the Continental Council.
Avine was back at the Siren’s Rest, recovering from the drain of calling that much from the sea in a single morning.
Wyatt found Narla there, two cups of coffee in his hands.
“Thought you might need this.”
She took the cup, wrapped her fingers around its warmth. He settled beside her on the wall.
“My parents called,” she said. “They never even knew anything was happening.”
He didn’t say anything. Just shifted closer, let her lean into his warmth.
“I’ll need to tell them eventually. The truth about Niccolas. About Clara.” She stared out at the water. “They deserve to know it wasn’t accidents. That their daughter was murdered.”
“When you’re ready.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” She turned to look at him. “But I’m done hiding. Done protecting everyone from truths they have a right to know.”
“Even if it hurts?”
“Especially then.” She leaned up and kissed his jaw. “Truth-telling witch, remember? It’s kind of my thing now.”
He huffed a laugh. “I remember. You set Derren on fire with it.”
“Technically, Aero and Avine set him on fire. I just made sure he couldn’t hide from it.”
“Semantics.” He turned his head, caught her mouth in a proper kiss.
When they broke apart, his expression had softened into something tender.
“I meant what I said. Every day. For the rest of our lives.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I’m counting on it.”
The sun climbed higher over Haven Shores, painting the water in shades of gold and rose.
Haven Shores had survived. Would continue surviving the way it always had.
And Narla would be here to watch it. Home at last.