Chapter Seventeen
(Epilogues)
Odette
The city never officially thanked us.
Mercury Holdings vanished overnight, leaving behind a ghostly silence in its wake.
The brutal fights stopped, the twisted entertainment stripped bare.
Politicians and businessmen disappeared from the spotlight—some humiliated in public, others erased quietly in the shadows.
Justice didn’t always roar; sometimes it crept quietly, mercilessly thorough.
It was enough.
You could feel the change. Omega shelters no longer kept their doors triple-bolted out of fear.
Young omegas walked the sidewalks with their heads held higher, eyes clear and unafraid.
The air seemed lighter, as if the city had finally taken a breath it had held for years.
Fallon’s apartment building for the omegas had taken off successfully.
She’s helped hundreds of omegas have somewhere safe to get their life back.
I got something back, too.
It wasn’t instantaneous. Healing never was.
But slowly, like stone gradually carved into beauty, something inside me shifted.
I woke one morning, smiling softly at the sunlight streaming through our bedroom window.
Another day, in the shower, I traced fingers over my scars without feeling the sting of remembered pain.
Eventually, nights passed without nightmares dragging me screaming from my bed.
Small victories. Quiet ones.
But powerful. And they were mine.
I was never alone in these victories. My pack made sure of that.
Micha’s steady presence, planning, strategizing—making sure every room, every space, felt safe.
Salem’s quiet thoughtfulness, brewing tea before I ever mentioned feeling tired, brushing gentle kisses across my temples when he knew my thoughts were too loud.
Ravik is solid and watchful, silently patching dents in the garage walls and checking the locks three times every night without a word.
And Haze—beautiful, reckless, irrepressible Haze—who danced in the kitchen at dawn, half-naked and laughing, singing loudly off-key, teaching me that joy could be a weapon all its own.
They didn’t save me. They reminded me I never needed saving. I’d already clawed my way free from the depths. Now I was building something beautiful from the ashes.
Today, the studio smelled of fresh clay, dust, and sunshine.
Henry lounged in his usual spot, sprawled comfortably on the worn leather chair in the corner, newspaper open in front of him.
He pretended he wasn’t watching everything, but we all knew better.
He still did his quiet patrols, guarding my peace without a single complaint.
Mom had already come by earlier, bringing coffee, pastries, and her radiant smile, assuring herself once again that I was happy.
I was.
My newest sculpture rose proudly from the center of the workspace.
Marble shifted seamlessly from rough-hewn edges at the base, transforming upward into a woman emerging free and unshackled.
Her arms stretched gracefully toward the sky, face tilted upward in defiant triumph.
She was strength, but tempered by softness. Resilient, yet open to love.
She was me, carved in stone, finally whole.
Warm arms slid around my waist from behind. Micha rested his chin gently on my shoulder, his voice soft against my ear. “She’s beautiful, Odette. Strong, just like you.”
“I wanted her softer,” I whispered, fingertips skimming the smooth curves of her arm. “Not just a warrior, but a woman. Someone who knows it’s okay to break and still be strong.”
“She is,” Salem said quietly from the doorway, eyes warm and knowing. “That’s exactly why she’s dangerous. She knows when to burn everything down—and when to bloom.”
“I’m naming her Becoming ,” I told them, pride blossoming quietly in my chest. It felt like an ending and a beginning wrapped together, as intricately layered as the woman I’d carved.
“It’s perfect,” Ravik murmured, joining Salem in the doorway. His dark eyes softened, his stern features relaxed into that rare, gentle look he reserved just for me.
Haze bounded into the room moments later, eyes bright, lips curved in a mischievous grin. “Great work, O, really lovely—but you still need to sculpt me next. Something heroic. Naked, probably.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’d actually pose naked, wouldn’t you?”
“In a heartbeat,” Haze agreed enthusiastically, wiggling his eyebrows as he popped a grape into his mouth. Ravik moved past him, delivering a playful smack to the back of his head without breaking stride.
I laughed harder this time, the sound ringing clear and true. Unrestrained, real.
I glanced around at them—my pack, my family—and felt a wave of warmth ripple through my chest. This life, the one I’d carefully pieced together, was imperfect. It was messy, chaotic, and loud. It wasn’t the life I imagined, but it was so much better because it was mine.
Because they were mine.
Because we were stronger together.
I turned back to my sculpture, pressing my palm gently against the marble. The stone was smooth, strong, and solid beneath my fingertips. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t caged or broken.
She was rising, becoming exactly who she was meant to be.
Just like me.
Fallon
November 12th
9:21 A.M
The boys were arguing again.
Technically, it had started as a debate about who would win a bare-knuckle brawl.
Still, it quickly spiraled into Romano insisting he could hack a vending machine with his mind, and Jace loudly challenging Voss to carry the entire patio furniture set, single-handedly.
Voss responded by throwing a pillow at Jace’s face, and Kingston watched it all from his corner chair with the resigned amusement of a king observing his court of fools.
I leaned in the doorway of the Rosetti pack's living room, arms folded loosely over my stomach, hiding a wicked grin behind the gentle press of my lips. Morning sunlight spilled through the wide, ornate windows, catching in the crystal chandelier and scattering soft prisms around the room.
Jace lounged shamelessly on the long sectional, shirtless, his feet propped casually in Voss’s lap as if he had a death wish.
Voss was feigning indifference, but the dangerous narrowing of his eyes suggested violence was imminent if Jace’s toes wiggled one more time.
Romano paced the floor, barefoot, wearing worn jeans and an old band t-shirt, hands waving dramatically as he explained—in painful detail—the physics behind something he called “rage lifting.” Kingston had tossed his dark suit jacket aside, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking immaculate even as he massaged his temples as if trying to hold back the chaos with sheer willpower.
Gods, I adored them. Every loud, ridiculous, unhinged piece of them.
Which made what I was about to do so much sweeter.
I took a slow breath, stepped further into the room, and smiled, soft and innocent. “Hey.”
Four sets of eyes snapped to me instantly. I had their full attention now.
I let the moment hang for a heartbeat longer before casually dropping the bombshell I’d been waiting all day to share.
“I’m pregnant.”
A stunned silence dropped over the room like I’d just pulled the pin from a grenade.
Then I turned on my heel and ran.
“WHAT?!” Jace’s voice hit a pitch I’d never heard from him before—half shock, half delight, all hysteria. “Did she say PREGNANT?”
A crash sounded behind me, followed immediately by Romano’s frantic shout. “She said what?! Go after her!”
Kingston’s deep voice sliced through their panic, fierce and commanding. “Why is she running? Fallon, goddammit—!”
“Is she scared?!” Voss barked, tearing after me like a heat-seeking missile.
“I’m not scared,” I called back over my shoulder, racing up the staircase two steps at a time, giggling wildly as adrenaline coursed through me. “I just want to see who gets here first!”
The sound of bodies scrambling to their feet and stumbling over furniture echoed up the staircase as I burst into laughter, nearly tripping over my own feet as I rounded the upstairs hallway. My pulse thundered in my chest, joy fizzing in my veins like champagne.
Kingston caught me first because, of course, he did—swift, controlled, and always effortlessly in charge. His strong arms looped around my waist mid-run, spinning me neatly and pressing my front to his chest. His heartbeat thundered wildly against my chest, his breath warm against my ear.
“Pregnant,” he repeated roughly, disbelief and wonder battling in his voice. “You said pregnant, Fallon?”
“Still saying it,” I teased, tilting my head back, grinning wildly at him. “Surprise?”
He cursed softly, the words a desperate prayer and ecstatic praise in equal measure, kissing my neck like I was something priceless he had just rediscovered.
Voss and Romano burst into the hall next, followed by Jace, who launched himself into us with zero regard for anyone’s safety. Romano hovered anxiously, his dark eyes wide and stunned, hands raised like he didn’t quite trust himself not to crush me.
“You’re serious?” he breathed, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual tech-savvy bravado.
I reached out, took Romano’s trembling hand, and gently guided it to rest against my belly. “Very serious.”
Voss sank to his knees, like his legs simply refused to hold him anymore, his arms wrapping around my waist in a fiercely protective embrace. He pressed a kiss reverently to my belly, his voice shaking with intensity. “We’re going to be parents.”
“No,” I corrected lightly, stroking my fingers through his dark hair. “I’m going to be a parent. You four lunatics are going to provide constant entertainment and chaos.”
Jace’s laughter was unhinged, bright, and ecstatic. “Fuck, Fallon. You magnificent woman. How am I supposed to survive two of you?”
Kingston’s laugh was quieter, deeper, as he brushed his lips against my temple. “You’ve given us everything.”