Epilogue — Ethan
The door to our chambers closes behind us, muffling the distant sounds of celebration still echoing through Kortan’s halls.
Our chambers. Not hers. Not mine. Ours.
I lean against the heavy oak and let the silence washes over us. The quiet settles into my bones.
Rhiannon crosses to the window and pushes the curtain aside. Moonlight spills across her face, softening the sharp lines of her jaw, catching the gold flecks in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything. She just breathes.
Gifts from the ceremony crowd the low table near the hearth.
They’re encased in carved wooden boxes from noble houses whose names I’m still learning.
Baskets of fruit from regular pack members, apparently supposed to boost fertility, are clusters of vibrant color among the dark wood.
A jewel-encrusted dagger from Xander and Thea glints in the light.
There’s a leather-bound journal embossed with the Crescent Pack seal from Lady Gemma.
All of it evidence of acceptance, stacked in velvet and ribbon.
But my gaze drifts past that.
The wardrobe is still open from this morning’s rush to dress. Inside it, my Truth Seer robes now hang beside Rhiannon’s Commander leathers. The dark fabrics rustle against each other. Like they’ve always been there.
On the windowsill, Thea’s spider plant catches the moonlight. It’s the same one I kept alive in her cramped apartment. One of the two Branson packed up the day they took me here. Thea gave it to me the day Rhiannon and I got engaged.
“You’re the one who took care of it,” she’d said. “It survived everything. Just like you.”
It’s thriving now. New shoots reach toward the glass.
My pen from Cid’s Diner sits on the desk beside Rhiannon’s tactical maps and the ancient tomes Mahal gave me to read.
I push myself off the door and cross over to her. My fingers find her waist before I’ve consciously decided to reach for her. She leans back against my chest, and we stand there together, watching the moonrise high over the fortress walls.
My lips brush her shiny dark hair. “I keep waiting.”
“For what?”
“For someone to tell me that none of this is real.”
She turns in my arms. Her palm presses flat against my chest, right over my heart. “Feel that?”
A nod is all I can manage.
“That’s mine now.” Her fingers tug my collar aside, revealing the mark. Warmth floods it instantly. “This is forever.”
Forever. In Creek Falls, forever was a word I’d ascribed to the same diner shifts, the same empty apartment, the same feeling of waiting for something that never came. It was endlessness without meaning. Here, forever means her. This room. This life I never imagined I could have.
“Rhiannon.”
She looks up. I take her hands in mine. The rough spots on her palms press against my fingers. A warrior’s hands. I hold them like they’re the most precious things I’ve ever touched, because they are.
“I spent my whole life believing I wasn’t enough.” I hold her gaze. “That I couldn’t protect anyone. That I’d never be useful to anybody.”
Her grip tightens, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I thought that if I couldn’t be strong enough, powerful enough, or even smart enough, then I didn’t deserve to stay here.” I swallow. “Anywhere, really, but especially with you.”
Moonlight pools between us. Somewhere in the fortress, music is still playing. Laughter rises and falls like distant waves. The sounds of revelry carry on the breeze.
“But you changed that.” I lift her hands, press my lips to her knuckles. “Belonging isn’t something you can prepare yourself with, or an armor you can wear. It’s something you choose. It’s the outcome of the choices you make.”
She nods, her fingers closing around mine. Our rings shine in complement with each other.
“I choose you, Rhiannon. Not because I’m convinced that I’m worthy of you. Not because I can match your strength or protect you the way your guards can. I choose you because my heart has wanted to be yours since the day I met you. And, dammit, I’m done fighting it.”
An affectionate sound escapes her and she smiles.
“I belong here with you. . .” And I will never leave you.
Her bright warmth answers me back.
“Ethan.” Her forehead touches mine. “I believed for so long that needing someone made me weak. That vulnerability was a door I could never afford to open. That I alone must shoulder my burdens.”
She pulls my hands down but doesn’t release them. Instead, she presses them against her own heart.
“I want this. Not because the Moon Goddess intended you for me. Not because the bond compels it. I choose you, Ethan, because you’re you. I choose your stupid jokes and your reckless courage.”
A chuckle breaks free from my throat.
“I promise to lean on you. I will let you in if I fall apart and trust that you’ll be there to help me put myself back together. As long as I have you, I never want to be alone again.”
I pull her against me. She buries her face in my chest, clutching my shirt.
My face stays nestled in her hair as I speak softly to her. “You’re not alone. Not anymore, and never again.”
I love you, Commander, I add through our bond.
She laughs — sincerely laughs — and the sound is so unexpected, so free, that it surprises me.
I love you, human.
I tilt her chin up and press my lips to hers.
She kisses me back like the war is finally over. No law between us. No fear waiting at the edges. No clock counting down the hours we have left.
Then her hands find my shoulders, and mine find the buttons of her gown, and the moonlight does the rest.
There’s no urgency tonight. Just us with all the time in the world.
Later, with the sheets twisted around our legs and Rhiannon’s cheek resting over my heart, she drags a fingertip across my chest.
“You know,” she says against my skin, “for a human, you have impressive stamina.”
I snort. “For a human? That’s the best compliment you’ve got?”
She tilts her chin up, and I catch the smirk playing at her lips. “Would you prefer I lie?”
“I’d prefer you admit I’m exceptional regardless of species.”
“Hmm.” She pretends to consider this. “Adequate.”
“Adequate.” I clutch my chest in mock offense. “I pour my heart and soul into that performance, and you give me adequate?”
Her laugh rolls through me, warm and unrestrained, nothing like the controlled Commander I first met in that cramped apartment. She props herself up on one elbow, dark hair spilling across my chest.
“Fine. You were...” She pauses, golden-brown eyes sparking with mischief. “Surprisingly competent.”
“I’m framing that. Getting it embroidered on a pillow. Surprisingly competent.”
She swats my shoulder, but she’s grinning. Actually grinning. The sight of it still catches me off guard sometimes — how soft she becomes when it’s just us.
You’re ridiculous.
You love it.
Unfortunately.
Warmth floods the bond, contradicting her playful words entirely.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thea’s due any day now.”
“Mmm.” Rhiannon settles back against me. “Xander’s been insufferable. Hovering over her like she’s made of glass.”
“Can you blame him?”
“No.” A pause. “I’d probably be worse.”
I chuckle and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course you would.”
Her fingertip circles the mark at the base of my neck. “Does Thea still want to make that trip to the Outer Lands after the baby comes and things settle down?”
“Yeah.” I’ve been thinking about it too, the loose ends that need tying. “Cid deserves to know we’re okay. We’ll tell him that I found Thea in California and I’m moving there too. That should give the police a reason to stop searching.”
“California?” She tests the word. “Do you think he’ll believe that?”
“Yeah, she used to tell everyone that was her dream.”
She accepts this with a nod. The cover story matters less than what comes after.
“I know what I want to do with my house,” I say quietly.
Rhiannon stills against me. She knows what that house holds: the memories soaked into its walls. The shadows that shaped me.
“I’m going to donate it.” The words come easier than I expected. “There’s an organization in Creek Falls that helps women leave...situations like what my mom went through. They can turn it into a shelter.”
Neither of us speaks. Her hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining.
I stare at the ceiling, at the moonlight cutting lines across the stone.
For years, that house was a cage of the past. A monument to everything I couldn’t stop, couldn’t fix, couldn’t protect anyone from.
It was little more than the birthplace of a boy who hid in closets while his father raged, and that little boy grew into a teenager who counted bruises and learned to read danger in the way that man set his jaw.
Now, that house will be something else. A haven instead of a prison. Safety instead of fear. It feels right.
“That’s—“ Rhiannon’s voice catches. She clears her throat. “That’s a great idea, Ethan.”
I squeeze her hand.
We fall into comfortable silence. Through the window, the moon hangs full and bright over the fortress walls. Somewhere below, the celebration continues, laughter and music drifting up like distant dreams. But up here, in our chambers, everything is still.
“Do you think they miss us?” I ask.
“Doubt it. Conan will keep the party going well past sunrise.”
I smile against her hair. The mind-link hums between us — there’s no need for words anymore, just a shared warmth. Her presence is in my thoughts, steady as a heartbeat. Constant as breath.
My eyes drift back to the plant stretching against the windowpane.
“I should write down what I need to grab from my old place when we go back.”
She’s already succumbing to sleep. “Let’s try not to bring any more stray humans back this time.”
“How about a puppy?” I grin.
She huffs a laugh, and I feel it everywhere — in my chest, in my mind, in the bond that connects us beyond words.
The Moon Goddess watches over us. Fate and choice, destiny and decision, are all woven together in this moment.
I love you.
The thought flows both ways, indistinguishable now. Hers or mine, it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s only one thing that matters now.
We’re home.
Thanks for reading Alpha’s Rejected Warrior!