Epilogue
Noa
Ipush into Rennick’s office without knocking, already moving, the question I came to ask perched on the tip of my tongue.
It disappears the moment I see his face.
He’s seated behind his desk, shoulders forward, gaze fixed on the laptop.
The glow from the screen sharpens his features, and for a moment I can’t name what I’m looking at.
Not anger. Not relief. Something more restrained.
Something carefully contained. So much so, I can’t even get a good read on it when I go searching through the bond.
That hardwired awareness I keep telling myself will loosen its hold on us any day now snaps fully awake in an instant.
It’s been more than a month and a half since the attack, since our territory was torn open and forced back together by sheer will, hope and a little bit of duct tape but the vigilance never really leaves. Not for me. Not for him.
My mind is already racing ten steps ahead, cataloging worst-case scenarios with an efficiency I hate that I’ve perfected.
“What?” The word leaves my mouth as I move toward him. “What’s happening?”
He looks up, surprise flickering just long enough to tell me he was somewhere else entirely. My stomach drops as I round the desk, dread building with every step closer.
“Is it Canaan? Did he finally reach out?” The question slips out before I can stop it, carried by a stubborn thread of hope.
It’s been weeks since he left to tell Rhosyn’s family in person.
Weeks of silence. No calls. No check-ins.
Everyone’s worried. I’m worried. And beneath all of that sits a heavy knot of guilt.
Rhosyn asked me to watch over him. To make sure he wasn’t alone.
Somehow, I’ve not only failed spectacularly at that—I’ve lost her mate entirely.
Rennick shakes his head once. “No. It’s not a message from him.”
The words land flat, but the way he says them tells me everything I need to know. It’s a message from someone.
“Then who’s it from?” I ask, already perching on the edge of the desk beside his arm.
He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing briefly into his eyes before he exhales. “Do you remember the email Rhosyn sent to every pack we had contact info for? The one warning them about omegas being taken. Telling them to stay alert.”
I nod immediately, that afternoon in the lodge coming to mind.
The way she’d walked away from us with a determined edge to her stride.
“Yeah. She hoped it might also bring us allies to help deal with McNamara and his witches.” And we all know how that ended up playing out for us.
I frown at him and add, “They’re a little late if they’re offering to help with Cathal now. ”
“That’s not what the message is about.”
“Olay…then what is it?”
He turns the laptop slightly, then stops, as if reconsidering and wanting to tell me himself, instead of just letting me read it.
“The alpha who reached out has a cousin. She went missing a little over two years ago. She was…restless, I guess. Had a bit of a wild streak. After she was gone, they just assumed she ran off to chase adventure or something new.”
“And because of the email Rhosyn sent, he’s starting to wonder if she didn’t just run away after all,” I deduce carefully.
“Yes,” Rennick confirms. “He’s starting to think she was taken.”
The ache settles in quietly. “I hate to say it,” I murmur, “but that’s not exactly a far reach. Did he give you her name? I can check our logs, see if we ever crossed paths, if we helped her—”
“Noa.”
Something in the way he interrupts me makes my pulse lurch.
He turns the screen the rest of the way toward me. I still don’t look. My focus stays on his face, like the answer might be buried in the tension there.
“He gave a name,” Rennick continues. “And you know her.”
Shock has me freezing in place. “What?” I breathe. “Who?”
“Juno.”
The air thickens all at once. My chest aches when I think of my Nightingale still out there roaming our territory in her wolf form.
We see her on occasion, but she’s still keeping her distance, more so since the attack.
Some days she lets me close. Some days she won’t even look at me.
I let it happen, because pushing her has never helped.
But the fear is there—that her human half is slipping farther away with each passing day.
“And you said this is her cousin?” I ask, my voice tight. “He’s an Alpha? Which pack?”
“Alpha Faolan. Out of Montana.”
The lodge conversation surfaces, hazy. An off-grid pack. Rough around the edges. Kept to themselves. The name hadn’t stuck then. It still doesn’t, which is why I ask, “What’s his first name?”
“Grimm.”
It takes real effort to keep my reaction off my face. My heart stumbles hard enough that I’m sure Ren can hear it from where he sits.
Because I’ve heard that name before. Only once. But once was enough for it to carve deep.
Oh, shit.