Epilogue
Talia
One year later
The kitchen at The Hearthstone Bistro smelled like rosemary and roasting chicken, caramelized onions and fresh bread.
Friday evening service was in full swing, the dining room packed with familiar faces and a few tourists who’d heard about the little restaurant tucked into Hollow Haven’s main street.
“Order up,” I called, sliding two plates across the pass. “Table seven, the duck special and the mushroom risotto.”
Maya grabbed them with practiced efficiency. “Table four wants to know if you can do the butternut squash soup as a starter instead of a main.”
“Tell them absolutely,” I said, already reaching for a smaller bowl.
Through the kitchen window I could see Cassian at a corner table, working on his laptop while nursing a glass of the bistro’s house red.
He came most Friday evenings, claiming he needed to catch up on consulting work but really just wanting to be near me while I did what I loved.
Through our bond I felt his contentment, his satisfaction at watching me thrive.
The bistro had exceeded every projection.
We’d been profitable within four months instead of six, and I’d already had to hire two more staff members to keep up with demand.
What had started as a dream to rebuild my career had become something bigger.
A community gathering place. A showcase for local ingredients. A restaurant that felt like home.
“Talia,” Peyton called from her station. “We’re low on the herb oil. Do you want me to make more or pivot to the brown butter for the next round of pasta orders?”
“Make more,” I decided. “We’ve got enough service left that we’ll need it.”
The rhythm of the kitchen was as familiar as breathing now.
The controlled chaos, the coordination, the satisfaction of plating beautiful food and sending it out to people who’d come here specifically for what we created.
This was what I’d been meant to do all along.
Not cooking in Vincent’s shadow, constantly doubting myself, but leading my own kitchen with confidence I’d slowly rebuilt over the past year.
Service wound down around nine. The last table lingered over dessert while Peyton and I cleaned our stations and prepped for tomorrow’s lunch service. Sofia had already left, her pastries for the weekend safely stored and labeled.
“Great service tonight,” Peyton said, wiping down her station. “That new duck preparation is going to be a hit.”
“Thanks to Jace finding those wild ramps last week,” I said. “They really elevated the sauce.”
Cassian appeared in the kitchen doorway as I was pulling off my chef’s coat. “Ready to head home? Jace texted that he and Hollis have dinner waiting.”
Home. The word still sent warmth through my chest every time I heard it.
We’d moved into Hollis’s grandmother’s house eight months ago, after two months of renovation that had transformed it from a memory into a living space.
Four bedrooms, a kitchen big enough for all of us to cook together, the garden that Hollis tended with patient care.
We’d added a proper nest room on the second floor, a space dedicated to pack bonding that felt sacred and safe.
The house on Maple Street had become everything Hollis’s grandmother had hoped for. Filled with life and laughter and the daily proof that family could be chosen.
“Let me finish the prep list and we can go,” I said, making notes for tomorrow’s opening crew.
We walked home through October evening air that smelled like wood smoke and falling leaves.
A year ago I’d arrived in Hollow Haven broken and scared, convinced I’d never trust anyone enough to be vulnerable again.
Now I walked hand in hand with one of my alphas, bonded permanently to three men who’d shown me what healthy love actually looked like.
“The special election results came through today,” Cassian said as we turned onto Maple Street. “Patricia Davidson is staying on as mayor, but they elected three new council members to replace the ones who took bribes.”
“Good,” I said. “The town deserves better representation.”
“Gerald Whitmore is staying on too. He’s apparently become the voice of environmental protection on the council, working closely with Wes on conservation initiatives.”
“Who would have thought,” I murmured. “The man who called our pack formation greed now advocating for progressive policies.”
“People can surprise you,” Cassian said, squeezing my hand.
The house came into view, warm light glowing from the windows.
Through the bonds I felt Jace and Hollis inside, felt their anticipation of our arrival.
After a year of being bonded, the connections between us had deepened into something both powerful and comfortable.
We could sense each other’s emotional states, coordinate without speaking, know when someone needed support or space.
We walked in to find the dining room table set for four, candles lit, and the scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.
Hollis was plating what looked like his grandmother’s famous pot roast recipe, the one he’d been slowly recreating from memory.
Jace was tossing a salad, using greens he’d foraged that morning along with vegetables from our garden.
“Perfect timing,” Jace said, grinning at us. “Dinner’s ready.”
We settled around the table, the four of us in our usual positions. Me between Jace and Hollis, Cassian across from me where I could see his face. The meal was simple but perfect, comfort food made with care and shared with people who mattered.
“The bistro was packed tonight,” I said between bites of pot roast that tasted exactly like home. “Maya said we’re fully booked for the next three weekends.”
“That’s incredible,” Hollis said warmly. “Your hard work is paying off.”
“Our hard work,” I corrected. “I couldn’t do any of this without pack support.”
“Speaking of support,” Jace said, and through the bond I felt his nervous excitement. “I have news. Wes offered me a promotion. Lead ranger for the northern territory, which means more responsibility but also more influence over conservation policy.”
“Jace, that’s amazing,” I said, reaching across to squeeze his hand. “You absolutely deserve it.”
“It means longer hours sometimes,” he admitted. “More time away from home during peak season. I wanted to check with all of you before accepting.”
“Take it,” Cassian said immediately. “We’ll adjust schedules to make it work. That’s what pack does.”
“Agreed,” Hollis added. “This is a huge opportunity. We’ll coordinate around it.”
Through the bonds I felt Jace’s relief, his gratitude at having a pack who supported his professional growth instead of seeing it as competition for attention.
“I have news too,” Hollis said quietly. “The bookstore’s expansion is finally complete. I’m adding a dedicated omega section, resources for people who’ve come to Hollow Haven seeking fresh starts.”
“Hollis, that’s wonderful,” I said. “Your grandmother would be so proud.”
“I think she would,” he agreed, looking around the dining room that had once been hers. “She always said this house was meant for people who needed it. I think we’ve honored that.”
After dinner we cleaned up together, the coordination so natural now that it barely required thought. Jace washed while Hollis dried. Cassian put away leftovers while I wiped down counters. Four people moving in sync, comfortable in our shared space and shared life.
“Living room?” Jace suggested. “I found this documentary about wolf pack dynamics that I think we’d all find interesting.”
“Of course you did,” Cassian said with fond amusement.
We settled in the living room, me tucked between Jace and Hollis on the couch, Cassian in the armchair he’d claimed as his own months ago. Through the bonds I felt contentment from all of them, the deep satisfaction of being exactly where we belonged.
Halfway through the documentary, my phone buzzed with a text from Vincent.
My entire body tensed before I could stop the reaction. Through the bonds I felt all three of my alphas immediately alert to my distress.
“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked, already moving toward me.
I stared at the message preview on my lock screen. Heard about your restaurant. Congratulations. We should talk.
“It’s Vincent,” I said quietly. “He wants to talk.”
The temperature in the room dropped as all three of my alphas reacted to the name of the man who’d emotionally abused me, destroyed my confidence, and made me believe I wasn’t capable of success without him.
“Block him,” Jace said immediately.
“You don’t owe him anything,” Hollis added, his usual gentle tone gone hard. “Not a conversation, not an explanation, nothing.”
“Do you want to respond?” Cassian asked, ever practical even when I could feel protective fury through our bond. “Or should we handle it?”
I looked at the message for a long moment, thinking about the woman I’d been a year ago.
Broken and scared, convinced that Vincent had been right about me, that I’d never amount to anything without his help.
That version of myself might have felt obligated to respond, to prove she’d succeeded despite him, to seek some form of validation or closure.
But I wasn’t that woman anymore.
“No,” I said firmly, deleting the message. “I don’t need to talk to him. I don’t need his approval or his congratulations. I have everything I need right here.”
Through the bonds I felt their fierce pride, their satisfaction at my certainty.
“That’s my girl,” Jace said, pulling me closer.
“Our girl,” Hollis corrected with a smile.
“Our omega,” Cassian added. “Who knows exactly what she’s worth and doesn’t need validation from anyone who failed to see it.”