Epilogue One-Donny
We were still behind the Castorini Mausoleum, and Ryan was helping me to my feet slowly.
Time had been moving slowly since the moment my hand closed around the object inside that cursed circle.
I was still processing just how awful the Chicky twins really were and how they got their terrible magic to work.
Hair clippings. Toenail bits. Ash.
All of it reeked of old magic and bad decisions.
These weren’t just any clippings either.
They pulsed with remnants of a spell that was as vile as it was petty.
I stood up slowly, my hand trembling, and turned to glare at the two old Witches trying to do a slow shuffle-scoot toward the tree line.
“Oh, hell no.”
I spun on my heel.
“Freeze!”
As if synchronized with my fury, Gryn whipped his hands forward.
A crackling bolt of blue light zipped through the air and locked the Chickazola sisters mid-waddle.
They froze like a pair of dollar-store Halloween decorations, wide-eyed and wrinkled, still dressed like rotting pumpkins in their matching orange sacks.
Ryan stepped closer, eyes scanning the spell remnants still glowing in my palm.
“What is it, Honey?”
I blew out a breath, angry, sad, and grossed out all at once.
“These are magical remnants—hair and nail clippings that should’ve been burned in the crematorium these two used to own.
Standard practice to prevent magical contamination.
But instead,” I held up the ashes. “They used them to bind Grandpa Al’s spirit.
Like emotional blackmail with a side of necromancy. ”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Candice whined.
Only her voice sounded strained since her lips stayed frozen mid-sneer.
“Shut up, Candy!” Denice barked back, her frozen vocal cords vibrating with fury.
It sounded like two trash pandas growling inside a dryer.
I arched a brow. “Charming. Real Witches of the year over here.”
Jaxson stepped forward, cracking his knuckles like a bouncer at a magical nightclub.
“Don’t worry, I got this,” he said, raising a hand.
His voice dropped an octave, thick with magical authority.
“You have the right to remain frozen until such a time as the Morrigan sees fit to throw your heinous, dusty, revenge-obsessed asses into magical lockup for—let’s see—improper spellcasting, grave-binding, vengeance rituals, and salon libel.”
“You tell ‘em, baby!” Evie fist-pumped beside him.
I would’ve laughed if my ghostly grandfather hadn’t been visibly flickering, looking like someone was fast-forwarding his soul into oblivion.
“Shit,” I whispered, then blinked up at the sky.
Nothing. No lightning. Huh.
Maybe the Goddess knew I kinda deserved a wee break.
I dropped to my knees and whispered a counter-spell over the hateful little circle the twins had used to keep Grandpa Al trapped.
The rocks shimmered and melted into hay, and I dumped the clippings on top.
Bella and Evie were already at my side, linking hands with mine without a word.
“This part, we do together,” I said.
We closed our eyes and summoned the power that bound us—the Trifecta of Castor’s Corner.
Our magic twined together like the braids our mothers once wove in our hair, and flames rose from our circle in a clean, bright gold.
Then, with a mighty rumble of thunder, a splash of pink, aqua, and gold glitter sparkles, the curse broke with a resounding pop.
Grandpa Al’s form solidified in front of us—still missing the family jewels, but finally, blessedly whole in spirit.
“Grazie, ragazzi,” he whispered with a soft, rakish grin. “Molto bene. Ciao ciao, bambini belli!”
With a wave and a wink, he blew us kisses and faded into a soft, silvery light.
Gone at last, to the Next Amazing Journey.
“We did it!”
“Oh, Donny, you were great!”
Evie and Bella embraced me, and for the first time in a while, I felt good. Really good.
Later that night.
After an hour of magical Swoosh calls—mainly with Magdelena or La Befana—all confirming the Chicky twins were getting their one-way trip to Magical Time-Out, I finally made it to bed.
And as soon as we got through the bedroom door, I melted into Ryan’s kiss.
“You did good today, Honey,” he growled against my lips.
“You think so?”
“I know so. I’m so proud of you, Donatella.”
“Yeah? How about you show me?”
“I can do that,” he grumbled, and with a wiggle and a wave, I had us both undressed in record time.
The man was so good at this. At making me forget everything but him.
Like he was the only thing in the whole universe, and he was made just to make me feel good.
“That’s not far from the truth, Honey.”
Then he was between my legs, licking at my slick sex and making that familiar hum buzz inside my blood and heat build from my core.
Pleasure threatened to catapult me into outer space, but my Bear had me. I knew he did.
He was my anchor. My reason. My protector and my cheerleader.
Goddess, I loved him so.
My fingers threaded in his hair as the first spirals of pleasure began to undo me, and before I finished crying out his name, he was filling me with his thick, curved, perfectly long cock.
“Heaven. You feel like heaven, Donatella.”
“You feel like mine, Ryan. I never want to be without you.”
“I am yours. You won’t ever be without me, mate. Mine,” he growled.
Then he pumped his hips, and I wrapped my legs tight around his waist, and together, we exploded like a supernova. His teeth found my mating mark, and he bit me again, claiming me like I hoped he would do again and again, a hundred thousand times or more before we were through with this world.
“I love you, Honey.”
“I love you, too.”
That night, wrapped up in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, I felt safe again.
Anchored.
His fingers traced lazy circles over my hip while his nose nuzzled into the crook of my neck, right where my mating mark glowed faintly.
“Donny?” he murmured.
“Yeah?” I whispered back, half-asleep, fully content.
He pulled something out from under his pillow—a velvet blue box—and my heart leapt into my throat.
“It’s a little late, but happy birthday.”
I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Is that what I think it is?”
“It could be earrings,” he said, all innocence and smirk.
“And you could be sleeping alone for a week,” I shot back.
He barked out a laugh and flipped the lid open.
Inside sat a massive, glittering, princess-cut yellow diamond, bright as my magic and as warm as honey.
“Will you marry me, my Witch with the honey hair?”
Tears spilled before I could even speak.
I wiped them away with the sheet and sniffled, grinning like an idiot.
“So, you like the blonde now?”
He growled low and reverently.
“Honey, I flove it.”
And then he spent the next few hours proving just how much.
Over. And over. Again.
Grrrrrr.
Ryan’s head popped up, a lopsided grin on his handsome face.
“You hungry, Honey?”
“For you? Always, Smokey,” I said and crashed my lips to his.
I knew things were never going to be easy in Castor’s Corner.
Trouble here was like the tide—steady, inevitable, and often full of teeth.
The kind of place where spells backfired, Ghosts held grudges, and magical creatures showed up with baggage, drama, and a flair for the ridiculous.
But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of what might come next.
Because I wasn’t going to face it alone.
I had my girls. My cousins. My magical ride-or-dies.
Our Trifecta was stronger than ever—three Witches bonded not just by blood, but by love, loyalty, and a whole lot of magical mischief.
We’d stared down curses, chaos, and the Ghosts of boyfriends past—and come out glittering on the other side.
I had Gryn. My grumpy little Domovyk familiar who used to curse me with blonde streaks and launch me out of bed when I wallowed too long.
Okay, sure—he’d tried to kill me a few times.
But in his defense, he was underfed and underloved.
Now that he was getting his tributes, he’d mellowed into something halfway decent.
Almost charming. In a goblin-esque, homicidally loyal kind of way.
And I had Ryan.
My Bear.
My sweet, strong, sexy-as-hell, croissant-baking mate.
The man who saw every messy, magical, vulnerable part of me and loved me more because of it.
He didn’t just stand by me—he chose me. Every day.
With his big hands and bigger heart.
With his soft grumbles and hard muscles.
With those warm, velvet eyes that said you’re mine in every glance.
And I was.
I was his.
And he was mine.
I didn’t know what was coming next. In Castor’s Corner, anything was possible.
Raging storms, ancient curses, haunted appliances.
But no matter what came, I’d meet it head-on.
With glam. With grit. With magic in my veins and my bear at my back.
Because this time around?
This Witch finally knew her worth.
And she wasn’t afraid to shine.
The end…for now.