Epilogue
BODHI
Someone went overboard with the decorations.
The sun bleeds orange and pink across the sky, and I'm watching my mate walk toward me through a sea of fairy lights. Emma was right. I couldn’t plan a wedding this fast, but it turns out a clan can.
Festoon lights wind through every tree, drape across the front of the bar, loop around the marquee where tables are already loaded with food.
The houses along the main road glitter like the whole compound is celebrating, and the massive fire pit at the edge of the gathering sends sparks spiraling up toward the first stars.
It’s wonderful to see everyone so happy for us, but truthfully, I don't really care about any of it. Not right now.
Because my mate is waiting for me.
Emma is barefoot in the grass, wearing a white sundress that Natalie produced from somewhere, her honey-blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She's smiling, and I can feel her joy through the bond, bright and fierce and directed entirely at me.
Mine. My mate. My wife.
My normally grumpy grizzly bear rumbles with satisfaction.
Mitch keeps the ceremony short, which I appreciate. A few words about bonds and commitment, a few promises I mean with every fiber of my being, and then a gold band slides onto her finger and she's looking up at me with wet eyes.
"You may kiss your bride," Mitch says, and I'm already moving.
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her like we're not surrounded by the entire clan. She tastes like happiness, like home, and when Mason wolf-whistles, I punch the air, triumphant, without breaking the kiss.
“You’re all mine, Emma Lennox. Officially.”
Emma laughs against my mouth, and the sound settles something in my chest that I didn't know was still restless. Initially, I was doing this for her, but having her choose to take my name has been more pleasing than I anticipated.
Then we're swarmed.
Natalie hugs Emma so tight I have to resist the urge to pry her off.
Nobody knows she’s pregnant yet, and they’re all being too rough.
But when my bear gives a little growl of displeasure, Emma’s warning look is enough to make me shove my hands into my pockets and let my sister continue to wrestle with my delicate mate.
I endure it because Emma is glowing, soaking up the attention and affection like she's never experienced anything like it. She probably hasn't. From what little she's told me about her childhood, family gatherings weren't exactly warm.
This is her family now. They'll treat her right or answer to me.
Ben and Zara arrived just in time for the service, which surprised me. My oldest brother doesn't leave his mountain for anything short of an emergency, but here he is, standing at the edge of the celebration with his mate tucked against his side.
He gives me a knowing smile, understanding just what it is to find the other half of your heart.
I'm refilling my drink at the bar when Zara appears beside me. Guilt sits heavy in my gut every time I think about how close I was to her sister, and how I messed up our chance to get information on her whereabouts.
"Congratulations," she says quietly. "Emma seems wonderful."
"She is."
Zara nods, watching Emma laugh at something Natalie said. Then her gaze shifts to me, more direct than I expected.
"I wanted to talk to you. About Amber."
My hand tightens on the glass. "Zara, I’m sorry."
"No, let me say this." She takes a breath. "Ben told me you've been tearing yourself up about it, thinking if you'd done some things differently, maybe you could have found her too."
I don't deny it. Can't. It’s the one thing that keeps me up at night.
"You didn't know." Her voice is steady despite the pain underneath. "And when you went after Emma, you had no way to know she had been moved too. You were trying to save your mate. That's not something to feel guilty about."
Sucking in a deep breath, I shake my head, not ready to accept her easy forgiveness.
"If I'd asked more questions, left Kozlov alive, maybe we’d know more."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Zara cuts me off, gentle but firm. "But the men who took Amber are responsible for what happened to her. Not you."
The words land somewhere deep, loosening a knot I didn't realize I'd been carrying.
"We're going to find her," I tell her.
“I know.”
Floored by her certainty, I can only watch as she touches my arm briefly, then walks back toward Ben. He pulls her close immediately, pressing a kiss to her hair, his eyes meeting mine over her head. A nod passes between us. Understanding.
I find Emma by the fire pit and pull her against my side, needing the contact. She fits perfectly, like she was made for this exact spot.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Yeah." I press my lips to her temple. "Just talking to Zara."
Emma's hand finds mine, squeezing. She knows what that conversation, the reassurance, meant to me, can probably feel the complicated tangle of emotions through the bond.
Around us, the party continues. Music drifts from somewhere, competing with the crackle of the fire. Mason is holding court near the bar, deep into some ridiculous story that has half the clan laughing while Maddox despairs at his antics, trying to get him to tone it down.
But not everyone is celebrating.
I've been tracking Detective Lisa Harris since she arrived, and I've been watching Beau tracking her. They've been circling each other, sizing each other up, and my brother's jaw has been getting progressively tighter the longer he holds back whatever it is he wants to say.
All that tension finally boils over near the bar.
"I know you're running your own investigation." Harris's voice is low, but my hearing picks it up easily.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Detective." Beau's tone is flat, dismissive, sounding more like an arrogant asshole than I’ve ever heard him.
"Bullshit." She steps closer, getting right into his personal space. "You've been talking to witnesses."
"There is no investigation." Beau cuts her off, arms folded over his chest as he glowers down at her.
"Just admit it." Her voice rises despite her obvious effort to keep it quiet.
A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it.
This is my wedding. My night. And these two are making a scene ten feet from where my pregnant mate is trying to enjoy herself.
Both of them freeze when they register the sound. Harris's eyes go wide. Beau's expression shifts to something caught between apologetic and furious.
He grabs her elbow before she can say anything else.
"Outside," he says through gritted teeth. "Now."
She sputters a protest, but he's already steering her away from the bar, down the porch steps and around the side of the building where the fairy lights thin out and shadows pool between the structures.
There’s blissful silence.
I wait. Thirty seconds. A minute.
Nothing.
Oh that’s not good.
"I'll be right back," I tell Emma, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Need to make sure they haven't actually killed each other."
The grass is cool under my boots as I round the corner of the bar, expecting to find them mid-argument, maybe even needing to be physically separated.
What I find is something else entirely.
They spring apart the second I appear, but they don’t look angry anymore. They look guilty.
Beau's collar is wrenched sideways, and Lisa Harris is breathing hard, her careful bun loose, strands of red hair tumbling around her flushed face.
For a long moment, nobody speaks.
Harris recovers first. She brushes back her tousled hair, destroyed bun dangling precariously on one side of her head, chin lifting with a defiance that might be more convincing if her lips weren't pink and swollen.
"This conversation isn't over," she snaps at Beau.
Then she's gone, heels clicking against the packed dirt as she storms toward where the cars are parked. An engine roars to life seconds later, headlights sweeping across the compound as she tears down the road.
Beau won't meet my eyes.
With a frustrated groan, he kicks the siding on the bar, then holds a hand up, warning me not to say one word.
Then, with a mumbled apology and congratulations, he shoves past me, and stalks toward his truck.
Another engine roars. More headlights disappearing into the darkness, heading in the opposite direction from Harris.
Well. That's going to be interesting.
I head back to the party, to my mate, to the celebration that's still going strong around the fire pit. Emma looks up when I approach, curiosity bright in her eyes.
"Everything okay?"
"Fine." I pull her against my chest, settling my hand over her stomach where our cub is growing. She hums, unconvinced, but lets it go, choosing to soak in the warmth around us instead.
The fire crackles. The fairy lights glitter. Our family laughs and drinks, loud and messy and wonderfully alive. And best of all, Emma Lennox is here in my arms, and I have everything I never thought I would.
"Happy?" she asks, tilting her head back to look at me.
I think about the answer. The years of exile and isolation. The guilt I've carried. The certainty that I didn't deserve anything good.
Then I think about her. About the cub she's carrying. About the life we're building for us and for our clan.
"Yeah," I tell her, meaning it completely. "I really am."