Epilogue
Six months later...
The library had officially crossed the line from tactical command center to organized chaos somewhere around the third map of the east coast.
Strings crisscrossed the walls in tangled webs of red, blue, and yellow, connecting photographs, addresses, symbols, and grainy surveillance stills.
Some threads remained clustered through Louisiana and Texas. Others stretched farther east, branching through Savannah, Birmingham, and the Carolinas before eventually converging near a single point in New York.
Nobody talked about that one much.
“To be clear,” Kennedy announced from her spot sprawled across the sofa, “I support violence. I just think conspiracy boards should come with snacks.”
Chapel tossed her a bag of chips without looking up from the dagger she was cleaning. Kennedy caught it one-handed.
“See? That’s teamwork.”
The rest of the room ignored her.
The library itself looked more chaotic than usual tonight. Weapons cases lined the floor beside stacks of files and half-empty coffee cups.
Saint stood at the touchscreen in the center of the clawfoot table, muttering to himself about entry points, while Thierry checked comm rigs in the corner. Boone lounged in an armchair across from Kennedy, his pampered Yorkie asleep in her bed at his feet.
And Dominic stood at the center of it all.
Calm. Focused. Dangerous.
Sammy still felt a little thrill sweep through him every time that gaze landed on him and softened.
“We confirmed movement at the property an hour ago,” Saint said. “Two guards outside. At least four occupants inside the house itself.”
“Basement?” Dominic asked.
Saint dipped his head. “Blueprints show a concealed basement level. Same kind of hidden access we found at the Birmingham house.”
Silence settled heavily across the room.
Nobody acknowledged the implication directly.
They didn’t need to.
Sammy’s gaze drifted briefly toward the sprawling mess of strings covering the far wall before forcing his focus back to Saint.
Safe house. Courier routes. Holding facilities.
Six months later, and the threads still hadn’t stopped spreading.
“We go in fast,” Dominic said. “Secure the upper floor first, then sweep below ground.”
“And if they run?” Kennedy asked around a mouthful of chips.
Dominic’s expression remained perfectly flat. “We don’t give them the chance.”
Sammy suppressed a sigh and shifted his attention to the duffel bag sitting beside his chair instead. Inside were enough electrolyte drinks, painkillers, protein bars, and grounding supplies to recover from several hours of forcibly sharing headspace with a pack of homicidal idiots.
Maintaining the magical threads during missions left him exhausted on a good day. On bad ones, he ended up with migraines, sensory overload, and emotional bleed-through that didn’t fully fade for hours afterward.
Unfortunately, the rest of the pack hated the side effects almost as much as he did. So when he reached to unzip the bag, conversation died, and everyone tensed.
“We’re doing the tether thing again?” Boone asked, his tone gruff.
“That’s generally how missions work now,” Chapel said, but she sounded like she’d rather chew glass.
Thierry looked deeply offended. “I hate the tether thing.”
“You hate that everyone knows you have feelings,” Kennedy countered.
“I hate having feelings with other people.”
Saint lifted his head from the screen, his eyebrows drawn together. “Who else are you supposed to have them with?”
Thierry flipped him off. “It’s invasive.”
Kennedy sat up straighter and shook her head. “No, invasive was when Boone accidentally pushed his meltdown about that dachshund video through the link.”
Boone grimaced. “I said I was sorry.”
“You cried.”
“That dog had wheels instead of back legs!”
“And he was thriving!”
Sammy pinched the bridge of his nose while the pack continued to argue about the magical tethering system. Unfortunately, they weren’t wrong, but they tolerated it because it worked.
The first time the magic had happened, Dominic had been halfway across the state on a mission Sammy wasn’t supposed to know details about. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, panic had slammed through the mate bond like a physical punch to the chest.
It had been pure chaos.
A flash of unfamiliar hallways. Blood. Someone shouting. The overwhelming certainty that Dominic was hurt.
Before he’d fully understood what he was doing, Sammy had somehow reached through the bond and latched onto the rest of the pack. Long enough to guide Boone around a blocked stairwell and warn Chapel about an ambush waiting behind a doorway.
The entire thing had lasted less than three minutes. Three deeply traumatic minutes, according to everyone involved.
Saint, naturally, had immediately wanted to test it again.
Sammy shook his head and glanced toward Dominic. He stood across the table from his brother, watching the rest of them with an unreadable expression.
Warmth curled low in his stomach, a dangerous distraction he didn’t need at the moment. But he couldn’t look away.
“You good?” Dominic asked when he caught him staring.
The concern in his voice was subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t notice it. Sammy always did.
“Fine,” he answered automatically.
Dominic arched an eyebrow.
“I’ll survive,” he corrected. “The faster you get in and out, the easier it’ll be.”
Dominic dipped his head, and as if summoned, the pack converged, moving as a unit to circle the table. Saint tapped the screen, drawing everyone’s attention to the satellite map projected across the glass.
“Property sits here,” he explained, highlighting the structure. “Sammy will be here—” He pointed to a secondary location about a mile away. “—while we clear the house.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the reminder. Not because he disagreed, but because he hated it.
The magic worked best within a couple miles, which meant Sammy couldn’t stay safely behind at La Madriguera anymore. Instead, he hunkered down in a predetermined safe zone with a couple of sentries while the pack handled the actual fighting.
Close enough to guide them. Far enough to stay out of direct danger.
Even with his assigned bodyguards, it was a compromise Dominic clearly still despised.
“Ready, colibrí?”
Grumbles and groans swept through the wolves, but no one argued this time.
Closing his eyes, Sammy connected with the current of magic that hummed beneath his skin, then reached out, searching for the rest of the pack. One by one, awareness brushed against him as the connections settled into place.
Chapel burned sharp and restless.
Kennedy practically vibrated with reckless enthusiasm.
Saint carried an easy confidence edged with anticipation.
Boone felt steady and grounded beneath a layer of quiet reluctance.
Thierry remained controlled and guarded, though the hostility that once defined him had dulled into something quieter these days.
And Dominic…
Sammy’s breath caught slightly as the bond deepened.
His mate felt like standing too close to a storm. Violence wrapped around unwavering control. Power restrained beneath skin and bone. Absolute certainty sharpened into something lethal.
Heat flared through the tether before Sammy could shove the reaction back down.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kennedy muttered.
His eyes snapped open, heat flooding his cheeks and stinging his ears.
Saint snorted quietly.
Sammy resisted the urge to curl into a ball and die. “I hate all of you.”
“Can we go now?” Thierry grumbled. “I’d really like to get this over with.”
Dominic scanned the room, meeting each wolf’s eyes before letting his gaze settle on Sammy. “Let’s go.”
The atmosphere instantly shifted as the pack prepared to make the jump.
Smiles vanished. Movements became practiced and precise. Blades disappeared into sheaths, and the buzz of magic thickened the air.
Dominic stepped toward him, hand outstretched. “You’re with me.”
Sammy grabbed his duffle and reached for him with an answering nod. “Always.”
Their romance had started with more of a fizzle than a bang, but it hadn’t taken long for Dominic to become his everything. His mate was strength and comfort and safety—the lighthouse in the storm.
Every night, Sammy fell asleep curled in his arms, and every morning, he woke secure in his place at Dominic’s side. Rather than merely existing, he had finally found the place where he belonged.
And it had all started the night he’d made a deal with the devil.