Epilogue
Iris
Six Months Later
T hings are different, but different isn’t always a bad thing.
It’s not the cracked pavement or the graffiti splashed across the brick walls outside. It’s not the closed down shops and abandoned cars. Those things have always been here.
What’s different is the way people walk the streets now. Upright. Smiling. Breathing easier. The air doesn’t feel like it’s pressing down anymore. It feels open.
And in the middle of it all stands our place.
I lean against the polished walnut bar, watching as the room fills with friends and family. Mom’s here and Penrith. Mari, Dahlia, Rue, and even Heath. Quinn came, too, as did some of the guys’ friends from the Black Briar.
The walls are painted deep purple, warm light catching on brass sconces and shelves lined with bottles—Killian’s doing, of course, every label turned just so.
Xavier’s touches are here, too, more subtle but just as beautiful. He had insisted on the vines carved into the banisters, curling like blooming flowers. And the white owl logo with the bar’s new name scrolled across it was Emmie’s piece.
We decided on Nightshade as an ode to the rebel group that disbursed when I joined the Council and started getting things in motion, like I’d promised.
The mural on the far wall of a night sky littered with stars over the silhouette of Sabine’s skyline was my idea. It just felt right.
A reminder of where we’ve been, and where we’re going.
“Icy!”
I look down just in time for Emmie to barrel into me, her blonde curls bouncing, cheeks flushed with the kind of excitement only a newly five-year-old can contain.
She’s wearing the new purple dress I made for her, the one with tiny embroidered owls across the bodice and the ruffles on the hem.
And of course, I made sure Delores got a tiny matching outfit, too. That’s a no-brainer.
“Happy birthday, Em.” I crouch down and press a kiss to her forehead. She smells like frosting already. “How does it feel to be five?”
“Big,” she declares proudly, then spins so her skirt fans out like a bell. “Heap says I’m practically grown.”
“Mm, don’t let him mate you off now,” I tease, brushing her hair back.
She makes a face, but then she spots Xavier across the room and runs off. He scoops her up without hesitation and lifts her high in the air. Her squeals ring out above the music playing softly from the speakers.
Killian sidles up next to me, his arm brushing mine. “I’m surprised they gave you a day off.”
“They didn’t have a choice,” I say with a chuckle.
Killian reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to that place and you know it.”
I laugh. “Oh, I know.”
The front doors of the bar open and a cheer goes up.
Violet and Stephan step inside, and my heart leaps at the sight of them.
Violet’s cheeks glow, her hair swept up in a loose twist, her smile so wide it could light the whole bar.
Stephan looks just as undone, relaxed in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.
But it’s what’s in his arms that makes me grin.
Alder.
Their son is swaddled in a soft gray blanket, chubby cheeks pink, tiny fists clenching the air as if already trying to communicate with world. Nearly three months old, and he already looks like he’s filled with fire.
Maybe he’ll be like me and give them a run for their money.
The thought makes me laugh.
I hurry over to them. “Let me see my nephew.”
Violet beams as she eases Alder into my arms. The baby blinks up at me, eyes wide and glassy. He’s so small, so impossibly precious. I brush my finger against his hand and nearly choke when he curls his fist around it.
“I think he looks like me,” I tease.
Stephan’s gaze softens, his arm draping protectively over Violet’s shoulders. “Oh, really?”
The love between them hums in the air. For so long, I worried about her. I’m sure she could say the same about me. But looking at her and Stephan now, with little Alder added to their family, I know that things always have a funny way of working out in the end.
“Come on,” I say, carefully handing the baby back. “We’ve got cake.”
At that, Emmie shrieks. “Cake! Cake, cake, cake!”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and soon we’re all gathered around the long table near the mural. The lights dim slightly, and Freya emerges from the back room, her steady hands balancing a cake that looks like it could have been sculpted by the gods themselves.
White frosting, swirls of lilac and pink, and five bright candles flickering in the dim light.
“Happy birthday to you…”
Voices lift in unison, filling the bar with warmth. Xavier sets Emmie on a chair so she can be tall enough to reach, and Killian crouches beside her, his hand steady on her back. I add my own voice, my throat thick with emotion, and Xavier signs along.
“…Happy birthday, dear Emmie…”
The song winds down, and all eyes turn to her.
“Make a wish, bug,” Killian whispers.
She squeezes them shut and her lips moving silently. Then, with one big puff of her cheeks, she blows. All five candles flicker out and smoke curls in the air.
The room erupts in cheers.
For a moment, I just stand there, drinking it in—the sound of laughter, the sight of my new life mingling with my old—and I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. Violet and Stephan are near with Alder nestled safely between them. Freya claps along, eyes bright, her smile unwavering.
For so long I didn’t know where I fit. I didn’t want an Omega’s place in society to just be small, boxed in by the Council and by the rules of Sabine. I wanted more.
The one thing I was sure I never wanted was a mate.
Now, I have two.
But it kind of makes sense when you think about it.
Following the rules has never really been my style.
THE END