Epilogue Coming Back For Me…Always #4
I laugh—loud and bright and completely unhinged.
"Well, I guess some habits from Ruthless Academy aren't going to leave, huh?" My fingers find the edge of my dance bag, twisting the strap. One-two-three-four twists. "Like my kill count."
"Twenty-three and counting," Blaze adds from the front seat as Kai starts the engine.
Twenty-three.
The number settles into my mind like a stone.
Twenty-three people I've killed.
Twenty-three lives I've ended.
Twenty-three souls that stopped existing because I made them stop.
I should feel something about that.
Guilt, maybe.
Remorse.
The weight of taking human life.
But I don't.
Can't.
The part of me that would have felt those things died ten years ago in the fire that took my parents.
What's left is just... practical.
Efficient.
A girl who kills when necessary and doesn't lose sleep over it.
My toe starts tapping.
Automatic response.
One-two-three-four.
One-two-three-four.
Against the floor of the G-Wagon, keeping time with some internal rhythm only I can hear.
Jett glances back at me from the passenger seat—those storm-grey eyes tracking the movement, cataloguing it, understanding what it means without needing explanation.
My fingers join in.
Tapping against my thigh.
One-two-three-four.
One-two-three-four.
Matching the rhythm of my toes, creating a symmetry that feels right in a way I can't articulate.
"You good?" Sage asks quietly, his hand finding mine and stilling the tapping.
I nod.
"Yeah. Just..." A giggle escapes. "Processing. Today has been a lot."
"Four orgasms before noon is definitely a lot," Blaze agrees cheerfully.
"And one upcoming murder," I add.
"Can't forget that."
The car pulls out of the driveway, onto the private road that connects our property to the main highway. Trees line both sides—tall and dense, providing the privacy that our particular lifestyle requires.
Ten minutes to Juilliard.
That's what they promised when we moved here.
Ten minutes from our home to the school I've dreamed about since I was a child.
The scholarship that seemed impossible.
The future that shouldn't exist.
But here I am.
Living it.
Actually living instead of just surviving.
I lean back into the seat, letting Sage's arm wrap around my shoulders, feeling the warmth of my pack surrounding me—Blaze's laughter from the front, Jett's quiet presence, Kai's steady hands on the wheel.
This is real.
Actually real.
Not a temporary alliance.
Not a strategic arrangement that will dissolve when the threat is eliminated.
This is my pack.
My Alphas.
Mine.
The word still feels foreign.
Impossible.
Like trying on shoes that shouldn't fit but somehow do anyway.
My mind drifts back to two weeks ago.
The warehouse.
The bomb.
Hanging upside down while Kai's father explained why he'd destroyed my family.
The moment I thought I was going to die.
And the moment they came back.
All of them.
Came back for me.
Saved me.
Chose me.
Even when they could have walked away, could have let the problem solve itself, could have taken the easy path that didn't involve risking everything for a broken Omega with a body count and a head full of trauma.
They came back.
The memory makes my chest tight.
Emotion swelling—gratitude and hope and the terrifying, wonderful feeling of mattering to someone.
To multiple someones.
To a whole pack of someones who look at my chaos and violence and instability and decide I'm worth keeping anyway.
"Thank you," I whisper.
The words are soft.
Almost inaudible over the sound of the engine and the highway beneath our tires.
But Sage hears.
His arm tightens around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
"For what?"
I close my eyes.
Let the tears prick at my eyelids without falling.
"For coming back for me."
The simple statement carries weight.
History.
The understanding that they didn't have to, that they chose to, that the choice meant everything.
Sage's lips press against my temple—soft, reverent, the kiss of someone who knows exactly what those words cost me to say.
"Always," he murmurs against my skin. "We'll always come back for you."
Always.
The promise hangs in the air between us—fragile and fierce and absolutely true.
In the front seat, I hear Kai's voice—quiet but carrying.
"That's what pack means."
Pack.
The word settles into my chest like a stone.
Heavy.
Permanent.
Real.
My toe taps against the floor one more time.
One-two-three-four.
One-two-three-four.
But the rhythm is gentler now.
Less desperate.
More like a heartbeat.
More like the pulse of something that isn't just surviving anymore.
Something that's learning to live.
And maybe—just maybe—learning to be happy.
The G-Wagon speeds toward Juilliard, toward my recital practice, toward whatever "business" awaits us afterward.
Toward a future that shouldn't exist but does anyway.
And I let myself smile.
Not the manic grin I use as armor.
Not the sharp expression I deploy when I want people to back off.
Just... a smile.
Small.
Private.
Genuine.
The expression of someone who's starting to believe that maybe she deserves this after all.
F.I.N