Epilogue Presley - Three Years Later
The smell of lavender and baked bread filled the air as I leaned against the railing of the pack’s villa in the Cote d’Azur, while I listened to the birds as they flew from branch to branch.
In the distance, vineyards stretched in perfect rows, disappearing into the haze where the earth met the sky.
The air was thick with heat and scents, and the sound of my two-year-old twins who were supposed to be napping, laughing.
I smiled as I made my way into the villa. Inside, it hummed with life.
Fritz's mother was in the kitchen, teaching Etienne's grandmother how to make her famous apple strudel. The two women had been arguing in a mix of German and French for the past hour, but their laughter said it was all in good fun.
Hastings' business partner arrived from London with papers to sign, but they sat in the drawing room with a whiskey, regaling about their business mishaps.
I followed the sound of giggling down the hall to the twins’ room. The door was ajar, and I peeked inside.
Max and Sophia were sprawled on Max's bed, tangled together like puppies and pretending to sleep. Their dark hair was damp with sweat, their cheeks flushed from playing in the garden all morning.
And curled between them, taking up more space than both toddlers combined, was Mr. Cheddar. Who knew the grumpy beast would love children?
The cat's orange bulk rose and fell with deep, rumbling purrs. One paw was draped over Sophia's leg. His face was smooshed against Max's stomach. He looked content.
My chest tightened with how much I loved my life.
“You need a nap if we’re to go to the beach later,” I told them.
“Mama. We sleep now,” Sophia said, her voice sleepy.
Three years ago, I'd been scraping frost off caravan windows, wondering if I'd make it through another winter. Now I had this. Children who would never know cold or hunger or fear. A cat who'd become the world's most unlikely nanny. A life so full it sometimes scared me.
A hand settled on my lower back.
"They're supposed to be sleeping separately," Hastings murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "In their own beds."
"They're pack," I replied. "Pack sleeps together. I like that they have each other."
His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. I leaned into him, letting him take my weight. My hand went to my belly, resting over the swell that was just beginning to show.
"Would your parents be happy for you?" Hastings asked quietly. "If they could see this?"
I turned in his arms to look at him. His grey eyes were soft, unguarded in a way they only were with family.
"They loved me since the day they adopted me," I said. "So yes. I think they'd be happy."
Hastings went very still. "Adopted?"
"I thought you knew." I tilted my head. "With all your background checks and private investigators, I assumed—"
"I never looked into your parents. That felt too invasive." His jaw tightened. "You were adopted?"
"When I was three days old. My birth mother was sixteen.
An omega who'd gotten pregnant during her first heat.
" I traced the line of his collar with my finger, needing something to do with my hands.
"She couldn't keep me. She was too young, too scared.
So she gave me to a couple who couldn't have children of their own. "
"Presley—"
"I used to think it would be easy," I continued. "Giving up a baby. I mean, if my birth mother could do it, then I could too, right? That's what I told myself when I agreed to be your surrogate." I laughed, but it came out wet. "I was so stupid."
"You weren't stupid."
"I was naive." I looked up at him. "The moment I heard their heartbeats, I knew I'd never be able to walk away. Biology doesn't let you. The bond doesn't let you. I don't know how she did it. How any omega does it."
Hastings cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Maybe she knew you'd be loved. Maybe that made it easier."
"Maybe." I pressed my hand over his, holding it against my cheek. "What about you? Would your parents be happy?"
His expression shuttered immediately, walls slamming down.
"Henry," I said softly. "Talk to me."
He looked past me, at the children sleeping with the cat. "My parents died when I was eight. Car accident. I was in the back seat."
My breath caught.
"I went to boarding school after that. My uncle managed the family money until I was old enough to take over. But he wasn't—" Hastings stopped, his jaw working. "He made it clear I was a burden. An obligation he didn't want."
"Henry—"
"I don't think my parents would recognize me now," he said quietly. "I became someone they never would have wanted me to be. Cold. Calculating. Someone who treated people like chess pieces."
"That's not who you are."
"It's who I was. Until you." He looked at me. "You made me remember what it feels like to be human."
"You were always human. You just forgot for a while."
He lowered his head until our faces were level and pressed his soft lips on mine.
"Oi!" Fritz's voice boomed from downstairs. "Stop snogging and get down here! Oma's about to serve dessert and she's threatening to give my portion to Etienne if I don't get our family at the table immediately!"
I laughed against Hastings' mouth. "We should go."
"We should."
But neither of us moved.
"Henry?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For finding me. For seeing me when I was invisible."
His arms tightened around me. "You could never be invisible. So I know I’d have found a way to find you."
The terrace had been transformed into a feast.
Long tables covered in white linens groaned under the weight of food. Roasted chicken, fresh bread, salads that smelled of herbs and olive oil. Fritz's mother's apple strudel sat in the center, still steaming.
Everyone was there. Etienne's grandmother held court at one end, telling stories in rapid French that made his cousins laugh. Fritz's parents sat with his brothers, passing wine and arguing about football. Even Hastings' business partner looked relaxed, his tie finally loosened.
I pinched myself. It was perfect, but I still excused myself, slipping away to the quiet of the villa's library. I needed a moment to breathe. And to call the one person who understood how far I'd come.
I dialed Maeve's number.
She answered on the second ring. "About time. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me, all wrapped up in your French villa and your perfect alphas."
"Never." I sank into one of the leather chairs, pulling my feet under me. "How are you? I wish you had agreed to come."
"I'm good, Pres. Really good." And she sounded it. Her voice was lighter than it had been in years. No edge of fear, no constant vigilance. "How's France?"
"Overwhelming. Wonderful. And hot." I laughed. "The twins are obsessed with Mr. Cheddar and his ability to catch flies. He wasn’t so impressed when they tried to put a bonnet on him this morning."
"Did he let them?"
"He purred through the whole thing, but I caught a side-eye."
Maeve snorted. "That cat is a traitor to his species."
"He's a sweetheart."
"He brought you a family of mice to the cottage."
"But they were alive, so he’s softening. He used to kill them.”
"He's a menace."
I grinned, settling deeper into the chair. "So what's new with you? How's the shop?"
Maeve had opened a bookshop in Edinburgh six months ago. A cozy place with floor-to-ceiling shelves and a dog café in the back. It was perfect for her.
"The shop's good. I'm thinking of expanding. Maybe adding a small gallery space for local artists." She paused. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"I'm pregnant."
I sat up so fast I nearly dropped the phone. "What the hell? Who? How?"
"The same way you got pregnant," Maeve said dryly. "Definitely not with a turkey baster."
"Maeve!"
"What?"
"Who's the father? Do you have a pack? When did this happen?" The questions tumbled out, tripping over each other. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I needed to be sure first." Her voice went soft. "I'm twenty-eight, Presley. An omega with a severed bond. No alpha will want me forever. Not like that. So I made a choice."
"But don't you want a pack?"
"No. I want a baby. I don't need alphas or packs or any of that." She said it with such conviction. "I just need this child. And I can provide that. The shop's doing well. I have a flat. I'm stable."
"When did it happen?"
"Five months ago."
"Five months!" I was on my feet now, pacing the library. "Oh my God, Maeve. You're only telling me now? We're best friends!"
"I had to wait until I was certain they wouldn't come looking for me."
My stomach dropped. "They?"
"Alphas can sense if they've made an omega pregnant. Or so the stories say. But mine were Russian, I think. Maybe Eastern European. I don’t know. We didn't exactly exchange numbers." She laughed, but it sounded forced. "I doubt I'll hear from them again."
"Where did it happen? A heat clinic?"
"God, no." She made a disgusted sound. "I went to a bar. In Prague. I was on holiday, trying to clear my head. Three alphas bought me drinks. One thing led to another. I was careful, Pres. I wasn't in heat. But apparently, biology had other plans."
"Maeve—"
"I'm happy about it," she said firmly. "I know it sounds insane. I know it's not how things are supposed to work. But I want this baby. So much."
I pressed my hand to my own belly, feeling the flutter of movement. "We need to meet when I get back. You need to explain why you kept this a secret from me. And we need to shop for baby things. And—"
"Presley," Maeve laughed. "Breathe."
"I'm breathing."
"You're spiraling."
"I'm excited!" I stopped pacing, looking out the window at the vineyards. "I'm happy for you, Maeve. Really. You sound so happy. Not scared anymore."
"I'm not scared." I think she meant it. The bond severing had been brutal. Months of medication and therapy and pain. But she'd come back from it. Stronger. Whole. "I'm finally free, Pres. Really free. And now I'm going to have a baby. My baby."
"Our babies can be friends."
"They better be. I'm already planning playdates."
We talked for another twenty minutes, making plans, laughing, and crying a little. By the time I hung up, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
I walked back to the terrace.
The twins had woken from their very short nap and were "helping" Fritz's brothers kick a football around the garden. Mr. Cheddar watched from his perch on the stone wall, tail flicking with what looked like judgment.
Etienne stood at the grill, flipping something that smelled amazing. His grandmother stood beside him, gesturing emphatically about proper cooking technique.
Fritz was in the pool with his nieces, tossing them in the air and catching them while they shrieked with delight.
And Hastings stood alone at the edge of the terrace, watching it all with an expression I'd never seen before.
He looked content.
I walked to him, slipping my hand into his.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"That I used to believe having a family was a liability." He squeezed my hand. "That love made you weak. That the only thing that mattered was control."
“You wanted an heir.”
He smiled. “I needed someone to leave it all.”
"And now?"
"Now I know I was wrong." He turned to look at me, his gray eyes soft. "You didn't make me weak, Presley. You made me human. You made me whole."
Sophia's laugh rang out across the garden. Max was chasing Mr. Cheddar, the cat graciously allowing himself to be caught.
"They're going to be a handful," I said, watching them.
"They already are."
Etienne appeared at my other side, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You didn’t eat much, Princesse.”
"I’m fine."
Fritz climbed out of the pool, water streaming off him as he jogged over. "What are we looking at?"
"Our life," I said as I looked around the villa. Seeing our family, hearing the laughter and feeling all this love. My hand splayed across my belly, feeling the baby growing inside me. Hastings' hand covered mine immediately. Then Etienne's. Then Fritz's.
"Hello, little one," I whispered. "Welcome to this wonderful pack."
It was. Three years ago, I'd been invisible and broken.
Now I was here. Surrounded by my pack. My family.
And I was home.
The end