Epilogue
Six weeks later, I wake up in my lake cabin and stretch. Morning light is coming through the window, and Silas is beside me, one heavy arm draped across my waist, breathing slow and steady. My fingers trail over the bite marks on my neck. Four of them. Still tender. Still healing.
I never thought I’d want this. Six months ago, I would have laughed in your face if you told me I’d be lying in a lakeside cabin with an alpha’s arm around me, waiting for three more to walk through the door. Six months ago, I was talking to a stick.
I still talk to Charly and Rocky. They’re part of this pack, too.
One noticeable difference is that Pam is gone.
Darius wanted her punished, but I talked him out of it.
What she did was unforgivable, and I’ll never trust her again, but I know what it feels like to be manipulated by a charming liar.
Stuart played her the same way he played me.
She was hurt and lonely, and he made her feel important.
She now lives with her aunt in another pack.
I hope she finds whatever she was looking for. I hope she finds it far away from me.
The door creaks open, and Elias appears with a steaming mug. His curls are sleep-mussed, and he’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants.
“Morning, Blueberry.” He grins, setting the mug on my bedside table.
“Coffee in bed?” I raise an eyebrow. “What did you break?”
“Can’t a male do something nice for his mate without suspicion?” He flops onto the bed, jostling the mattress. Silas grunts and tightens his arm around me without opening his eyes.
Mate. The word still does something to me. Every time.
I reach for the mug, but he hands me a can of Diet Coke from his back pocket instead. Of course. Elias knows me.
“Darius is almost done framing the new room,” Elias says, stretching out beside me. “Says it should be livable in another two weeks. I told him we should just build an entire second cabin. You know. For privacy.”
“Privacy from what?”
“Me.” He grins. “I’m very loud.”
“You are.”
Silas makes a low rumbling sound that might be a laugh. His eyes are still closed.
The door opens again, and Archer walks in, already dressed. “Sophie’s on the phone.”
I sit up, reaching for the cell he offers me. My sister calls every few days now. Her voice is stronger each time. Less of the haunted whisper I remember from the cottage, more of the Sophie I grew up with. Not all the way back, not yet. But getting there. I step out onto the porch as I answer.
“Hey, Soph.”
“Moira.”
I still hate that name. But I don’t tell her to stop. She’s the only one allowed.
“How are the gardens?”
“Beautiful. The tomatoes will be ready soon. You should come see.” She pauses. “He shifted yesterday. For a few minutes.”
My breath catches.
“Just once. And then he shifted back.”
“Soph, that’s…”
“I know.” I can hear her smiling. “I know.”
We talk for a few more minutes. The greenhouse is going up. The pack is holding together, and Cassia visits her once a month. “I’ll visit next week,” I tell her.
“Bring the boys. All of them this time. I want to meet your silent giant properly.”
“He’ll like you.” I pause. “He’s been speaking more. Not a lot. But more. Yesterday, he said thank you to Archer for something, just out of nowhere, and we all pretended not to notice so we wouldn’t scare him back into silence.”
“Mo, that’s incredible.”
“Yeah.” My throat gets tight. “It is.”
We say our goodbyes. Making my way back inside and handing the phone back to Archer.
“Sophie sounds good,” he says.
“She is. She’s…” I search for the word. “Returning.”
That’s the best way I can describe it. Not healed. Not fixed. Just coming back, one piece at a time, the same way I did.
The door opens one more time, and Darius enters with an armful of firewood.
He sets it by the stove, brushes sawdust off his shirt, and looks at us.
All four of us, tangled together on a bed that was always too small for this many people.
His expression softens in that way it does now, the way I didn’t think his face was capable of a few months ago.
He crosses the room in three strides and sits on the edge of the bed. His hand finds the back of my neck, warm and steady, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
“Mo,” he says quietly.
“Darius,” I say back.
He smiles.
I look at them—Silas, still half-asleep beside me, his arm a warm weight across my ribs. Elias, sprawled on my other side, stealing sips from my drink Archer, at the foot of the bed, his hand on my ankle. Darius, at my shoulder, his fingers in my hair.
Four alphas who chased me through a forest and made me their mate.
Four alphas who taught me the difference between being caught and being held.
Three months ago, I had a stick, a rock and a cave. Today I have a cabin by a lake, a sister who’s coming back to me, and four impossible mates who would tear the world apart for me.
And the best part? I know I’d do the same for them.
I used to think needing people was a weakness. That was the only way to survive: be alone, be fast, and trust no one. I was wrong. Freedom isn’t the absence of need; it’s finding the people worth needing, and letting them in, anyway.
Elias sets the empty can on the nightstand and rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand. “So. Plans for the day?”
Darius shrugs. “I’m finishing the roof on the new room.”
“I promised Lily I’d help her with training; she wants to learn to fight,” Archer says.
Silas says, “hunting.”
Elias looks at me. “And you, Blueberry?”
I think about it. The woods are calling. My wolf wants to run. Sophie wants me to visit. There are rocks I haven’t collected yet.
“I think I’m going to sit here for a little longer,” I say. “With all of you. If that’s okay.”
Darius’s hand tightens in my hair.
“Perfect decision, Mate.”
I look around at my alphas, my mates, and a mischievous thought crosses my mind. I sit up, feeling a grin spread across my face.
“Actually, I want to ask you all something very important.”
Four sets of eyes turn to me with varying degrees of curiosity.
“You know what would be really hot?” I bite my lip, watching their expressions shift from curious to interested. “Those masks. The ones you wore when you chased me through the woods like idiots.”
Elias’s eyebrows shoot up, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. “Why, Blueberry, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Darius’s grip tightens in my hair, and I can feel the immediate shift in his scent. It’s woody and dark and suddenly very, very strong.
“I am,” I say, my voice dropping to something husky. “But this time…” I trail my fingers up Silas’s arm, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. “This time, I’ll be the one hunting you.