Bonus Epilogue
Rhys
The snow crunches softly under my boots as I make my way up the hill, the scent of pine and frost hanging in the air. A year ago, this place was foreign to me—too warm, too loud, too full of life for someone who spent so long keeping to the shadows. Now? It feels like home. No, it *is* home.
At the top of the hill, I pause, taking a moment to let my wolf settle. He’s humming with contentment, restless but not in the way he used to be. It’s a different kind of energy now—a steady thrum beneath my skin, one of belonging. Of love.
The pack’s cabins stretch out below me, a small scattering of soft light amidst the expanse of forest. The tallest cabin at the heart of the territory still intimidates me sometimes. That’s where Ryan presides, the alpha who used to glare at me every time I so much as breathed near Hannah. Now, he meets me with a reserved nod, occasionally even a rare smirk when Hannah isn’t looking. We’ve both come a long way.
And then there’s her cabin—*our* cabin now. Warm light spills from the windows, and for a moment, I just stand there, drinking it all in. She’s inside, probably still fussing over the cocoa she made because apparently, it wasn’t “just right” the first time. That’s my mate. My fiery, festive, borderline-neurotic mate. I had no idea what hit me when I first met her, and some days, I still don’t.
A soft *yip* breaks through my musings, and I turn just in time to see a ball of creamy fur—one nearly camouflaged against the snow—barrel into my legs. I go down easily because, let’s face it, I’m a sucker for the little thing. The pup huffs victoriously as she pounces on my chest, her oversized paws tangling in my scarf.
“Got me again, huh, rascal?” I murmur, rubbing behind her ears. She wiggles happily, tail wagging so hard it looks like it’ll fall off. She’s Hannah’s niece, officially, but let’s be honest: anyone who’s watched me let her chew on my boots and drag my scarf around knows she’s *mine,* too.
“She’s supposed to be saving her energy for the Christmas run,” comes a familiar voice from above me. I look up, and there she is, her silhouette framed in firelight. Hannah.
My mate is leaning against the cabin’s porch railing, her arms wrapped around herself but not for warmth. She’s watching us—the wolf pup and me—with that soft, unwavering expression she always gets when we’re like this. Unlike me, she doesn’t try to hide it. She never hides what she feels. It’s one of the many reasons I fell so hard for her.
“You let her pin you too easily,” she teases, descending the stairs and trekking toward me through the snow. “A big, strong enforcer like you taken down by a pup? Shameful.”
I grunt as she offers me her hand, pulling myself off the ground. “Dunno what you’re talking about. She ambushed me. You know what they say—don’t underestimate the small ones. Mighty ferocious.”
Hannah rolls her eyes, but there’s a twinkle in them, a brightness that makes me want to pull her into my arms and never let go. And so I do, wrapping my arms around her while the pup yips indignantly at being ignored.
“You’re distracting me,” Hannah murmurs, but she’s grinning, her arms slipping around my waist automatically. The light dusting of snow on her lashes catches the glow from the porch, and it stirs something deep in my chest, something I never thought I’d feel again before her. Peace. Gratitude. Hope.
“Good distraction or bad distraction?” I ask, tilting my head to nip lightly at her earlobe. She laughs—I love that sound. It’s a laugh that echoes, unrestrained, free. A laugh just for me.
“Good,” she admits, standing on her toes to kiss me—a quick, playful thing that makes my wolf stir. He loves when she does this, though he grumbles for more.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward the cabin. The pup barks excitedly, bounding after us. “Before Ryan sends a search party for us. You *are* going to help me distract him while I sneak extra marshmallows into my cocoa, right?”
“As if I’d let him stop you,” I reply, deadpan. She laughs again, and the sound follows us inside, light and warm, a perfect match to the golden glow of the home she’s built for us.
When the door shuts behind us, it takes the winter’s cold with it. I pause for a moment in the entryway, just soaking in the sight of her bustling around the small, cozy space we share. There’s still a tree in the corner, half-covered in tchotchkes we’ve collected over the past weeks. Some are old pack decorations, relics from Hannah’s childhood. Others are new ones, like the carved wooden wolf ornament we picked out last week at the holiday market.
Home, I think again, marveling at the word. It’s a foreign concept but not unwelcome. Not anymore. These cabins, this pack, this she-wolf who looks at me like I hung the stars—I never thought I’d have any of it.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring at her as she pours cocoa into two mugs. Her head tilts playfully, but there’s a flicker of curiosity, maybe concern, in her amber eyes. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” I ask, smirking as I cross the cabin’s living room to stand behind her. “Like I’m ready to grab this cocoa and take it to bed with my mate?”
“For starters, yes. But also…” She leans into my chest as I fold my arms around her waist. “Like you’re far away.”
“I’m not,” I say, and I mean it. “I’m right here, Hannah. Right where I’m supposed to be.”
She turns, mug in hand, and presses another kiss to my lips, this one softer, sweeter. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, Rhys Everhart. Forever.”
And that’s when it fully hits me, as it always does when she smiles at me like this. I’m not running anymore. From my past. From her. From this bond. I’m done running. I’ve caught her—or maybe, just maybe, she’s caught me instead. And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving her for it.