Epilogue
HAYAMI
FIVE MONTHS LATER, BELIAL HOUSE
Warm sunlight beats through the window of the library, heating my face and sending a cascade of calm around me. I finish the chapter of the romance book, stuff it down the side of the chair, and close my eyes to soak up the warmth.
I can’t believe how much my life has changed in the past few months.
After my father was declared dead, there was this strange stillness, like no one knew how to feel or behave without him pulling the strings.
Even the Castros were oddly quiet. No rebellious outbursts or push to take over the city.
Were they in shock? Maybe. Mourning? Definitely not.
It felt more like a truce, like a new chapter had begun.
My mum has been, well, my mum. The one I got snippets of when I was younger. The mother she’s always been under the fog of drink and pills, which she no longer takes. She’s been here, with me, in the present, helping me get to the end of my degree and looking at options for jobs when I finish.
I want to go into drug research, maybe looking at cures for diseases. Maybe. But underneath all the science, what I really want is to help people like me. People who’ve been coerced for so long that they’ve forgotten who they are.
That’s why I’ve been volunteering with a local charity. They support people who are still trapped in that life—or just finding their way out—because I know what it’s like. I’ve been there and survived.
We’ve not done all this alone. Soon after my father’s death, my mum called her brother and sister, my Aunt Emi and Uncle Michi, both of whom I’d never met.
They flew over for the funeral and stayed for weeks to help my mum sort out the businesses.
After three weeks, Aunt Emi returned to Japan, but Uncle Michi stayed.
He has a good head for business and said he had some lost years to make up for where his sister and niece were concerned.
Together, my mum and Uncle Michi have restructured the Devall empire, ensuring that all the businesses are running legitimately.
They also set up a personal security firm called PIP, which stands for Personal Inclusive Protection.
It’s headed up by none other than Markus and Willa, who returned to us after taking a month’s maternity leave with Marta and Oscar, their very healthy five-month-old son who grows cuter by the second.
The Hellhounds were redistributed amongst the businesses and put to work in other areas, such as security guards in some of the office buildings, but most of them have been employed within PIP.
They now work as security for victims of crime, vulnerable people who don’t feel safe going out alone.
Because I won’t lie, the city is still a hotbed of crime.
The Castros may have accepted their new roles, but rival gangs have been moving in to try and take advantage of the changes.
They’ve used the breather to stretch their legs and take over the territory that my father held.
But I can live with that, as we’re not the cause, and the Hellhounds have been helping people feel safe.
And then there’s him.
As thoughts of Fenrir wash over me, I sink further into the chair. The smell of him. The feel of him. The taste of him. My Hellhound. My beast.
He’s remained by my side through everything—counselling sessions, revising for exams, even celebrating my twenty-first birthday with my family. He’d been shocked when I suggested coming back to Belial House for spring break.
My mum wanted to sell it, but I said no.
Whilst my thoughts on the supernatural have changed drastically, I still approach life rationally, and I can’t quite believe that memories can seep into the walls of a building.
That said, this house holds some horrendous memories.
Noa. My mother. And who knows what stories it holds from before my father bought it?
I’ve got my own terrible memories here—though the worst aren’t even mine.
They’re the ones from when Noa Devall took over my body and showed me what my father did to her.
But I can’t ignore the amazing things that happened here.
This house is where Fenrir and I were first alone. Where he showed me what my life could feel like. Where he taught me to be the person I want to be, not the one I was raised to be. Where I learned what people will do—what they’re willing to sacrifice—when they love someone.
I fell in love whilst in this house. That’s why I couldn’t let my mum sell it. That’s why I brought us here for spring break, and why I’m sitting in this chair now, soaking up the early sun.
Of course, I had reservations about coming here. We both did. But as soon as we stepped through the door, we felt the house breathing, like it had a new lease of life. Because she’s gone. Noa Devall doesn’t roam these halls anymore. She left the night she killed my father because her job was done.
“It’s done. You are free.”
And I hope she’s somewhere bright and full of warmth, where she can smile like she used to before she married my father. That’s my wish for her.
My head lolls to the side, sinking into the cushion.
I didn’t hear him come in, didn’t hear his footsteps because he was a soldier, a Hellhound, and would never announce his presence so clumsily, but I’ll let him think I can’t smell him, that I don’t know he’s watching me the way that I watch him when he’s sleeping, the way that I look at him and wonder what I would do without him—and hope I never have to find out.
Behind the darkness of my closed eyes, I feel his stare roaming my skin, his gaze upon my body. A buzz of energy rushes through my core. How does he do this? How can he make me feel these things without me even seeing him? Without him touching me, without him saying a word?
Then I feel him, standing over me, his breath coming closer to my face.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he whispers.
My heart skips. I know by the tone of his voice, by the way he’s breathing, deep and lustful, that this is only the start.
“You found me,” I reply, trying not to grin, the anticipation of the game already buzzing under my skin.
“And you’ve been reading again.” I hear a rustle next to me, feel his hand brush my side as he plucks the book from the chair. I hear the flick of pages. “Tell me what you’ve been reading about,” he says, feeling him tuck the book back where he found it.
“It’s a romance,” I say. I’ll draw this out as long as I can, because this is the part I love—the game we play so well.
“What kind of romance?” His fingers skim my leg gently, so gently it almost isn’t a touch. I shiver, pleasure already simmering under my skin.
“A filthy, smutty romance,” I tell him, and though I wish I could see the look in his eye, the intent on his face, I keep my lids closed. It heightens my other senses and builds the anticipation.
“What makes it a smutty romance?” Something brushes my face. His nose? Is he smelling me? I feel his lips ghost over mine, so faintly, so subtly, for the mere briefest of seconds, but it’s enough to send my head spinning.
“There’s lots of touching, kissing, licking.” I clench my hands between my thighs, aware that I’m squirming in the chair.
“And do you like that?” he asks, knocking my hands away.
“I do,” I tell him. “But I prefer it in real life.”
Silence spins. He’s waiting, drawing it out because I know what comes next. Adrenaline is already pumping, desire swarming like a frenzy of bees, and I can’t wait. I’m giddy, light-headed, and buzzing as I wait for his words, his command.
“Are you ready?”
On your mark.
I crack open my eyes. He’s moved back, standing by the chair, his arms folded, baseball cap pulled low over his brow, the bulge in his combat trousers visible through the dark material.
He’s perfect, every fucking inch of him, and I almost don’t move.
I’m almost grounded by how beautifully beastly he is, by the thought of what he’s about to do to me.
But I know it’ll be so much better after the chase.
“I’ll give you a thirty-second head start.”
Get set.
His face is impassive, which makes it all the more exciting. He gives nothing away. No hint of what’s to come. No clue as to what he has planned.
And then, like the shot of a starting pistol, he says the word: “Run.”
With a squeal, I leap from the chair and dart from the library. I have thirty seconds before he’ll chase me. Thirty seconds until he’ll come after me. Thirty seconds until he’ll find me, and then….
Fuck.
* * *
FENRIR
Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight….
She’ll head for the stairs. She always does.
When I found her in the chair reading one of her books, I couldn’t resist. I know the type of things she reads, know what it does to her, and I’m more than happy to give her the real thing.
I’m just glad she seems okay here, back at Belial House. When she suggested coming here during her break, I was reluctant, for many reasons. What if it brought it all back—what happened, and what almost happened? What if Noa was still here?
But she isn’t. The house feels cleansed, like the walls have been scrubbed, the blood gone, the memories just that.
At the time, I couldn’t take in the house’s majesty. But now, leaving the library and moving towards the open staircase—Hayami’s heady scent in the air—I can fully appreciate the architectural beauty.
And the only thing it stirs in me about what we almost did… is the fact that we didn’t. Which means now we get to do the things we want. Live the lives we were always supposed to live.
Together.
Hayami’s been concentrating on her studies, getting ready to make a career choice when she graduates this summer. Whatever she decides, she’ll put her all into it, because that’s who she is, who she always was.