Epilogue
Marcus
Amonth after Val takes the capsule, I find myself standing beside the training field with Nathan at my side, watching Ryder discover that enthusiasm and talent are not remotely the same thing.
The young alpha has plenty of the former. The latter is proving considerably more elusive.
“Again,” Val says.
Ryder mutters something beneath his breath that is almost certainly profanity before hauling himself upright from the dirt.
Sweat darkens the back of his shirt, and there is a streak of mud along one side of his jaw that he either hasn’t noticed or has decided to ignore. Knowing Ryder, it could be either.
Val waits patiently while Ryder regains his footing.
The patience surprises me. Before his injury, Val had always been an excellent trainer, but he hadn’t necessarily been a gentle one.
Months of living with Harley seem to have softened some of his sharper edges without diminishing any of the qualities that made him one of the finest guards I have ever known.
Or perhaps nearly losing everything has given him perspective.
Either way, the difference is noticeable.
Ryder launches himself forward again.
Val sidesteps.
Ryder hits the ground.
Nathan laughs so hard he nearly spills his coffee.
I don’t bother hiding my own amusement.
“You know,” Nathan says between chuckles, “I genuinely thought he’d learn faster than this.”
“So did Ryder.”
That only makes Nathan laugh harder.
Across the field, Ryder pushes himself upright and shoots us both a glare that would probably be intimidating if he weren’t currently covered in grass clippings.
To his credit, he doesn’t complain. A few weeks ago he would have argued. A few weeks before that he would have stormed off entirely. Now he simply squares his shoulders, wipes the dirt from his hands, and resumes his stance without being told.
Progress comes in many forms. Sometimes it looks heroic. Sometimes it looks like a stubborn young alpha refusing to quit despite repeated humiliation.
I find myself oddly pleased by both.
Val circles him slowly, correcting his foot placement, adjusting his balance, occasionally knocking him on his ass when Ryder becomes overconfident.
The former head guard no longer favors his left leg, and every time I see him moving across the field I find myself thinking back to the man who arrived here convinced part of his life was gone forever.
The medicine had not restored his eyesight. I hadn’t truly expected it would. What it did restore was far more important.
His wolf had returned completely and the difference was apparent within days.
The bond between him and Harley strengthened almost immediately, and while neither of them speaks openly about the changes they’ve experienced, I don’t need them to. The way they look at each other tells me everything I need to know.
Harley is happier. Val is whole. For now, that is enough.
Nathan follows my gaze toward the main house and smiles.
“Thinking about them again?”
“I wasn’t aware I was required to report the contents of my thoughts.”
“No, but I’ve noticed you get that look. And you’re projecting.”
I grunt.
Nathan takes that as confirmation. Unfortunately, he is probably right.
He grins, and for a moment I allow myself to enjoy the simplicity of the afternoon. The sound of Ryder hitting the dirt. Val’s dry patience. The distant laughter drifting from the main house.
Peace.
It’s still a strange thing to witness.
For so long it seemed as though every problem we solved simply revealed three more waiting behind it. Joshua. Dobson’s followers. Rogue packs. Internal politics. One crisis after another.
Now the pack is healing.
Val has his wolf back. Harley has finally started building a life instead of merely surviving one. Ryder is learning what leadership actually requires. Even Drake remains securely contained, watched around the clock by people who would happily break him in half if he ever escaped.
For the first time in a very long while, I can almost believe we’ve earned this calm.
Almost.
A vibration against my hip pulls my attention away from the training field. I pull out my cell phone and glance down at the screen.
The message is short as usual. I read it once, then again.
Nathan immediately notices.
“That look usually means somebody, somewhere, is creating paperwork for you.”
I huff out a laugh.
“Not this time.”
“Europe?”
I nod and the amusement leaves his face.
Across the field, Val says something to Ryder that sends the younger man sprawling into the dirt yet again. Harley winces in sympathy while somehow looking proud at the same time.
I envy them a little. Their problems are here. They’re manageable. Visible. The problems waiting overseas are anything but.
For the last month, reports have been arriving sporadically from Europe. Sometimes they’re little more than rumors passed through trusted channels. Sometimes they’re messages directly from Maarten. None of them have been particularly reassuring.
Luther still sits on the European throne he stole. Shifters are still disappearing. Pack loyalties continue shifting beneath the surface. And somewhere out there, Luuk and Jameson remain ghosts.
Alive. Well, at least we think they are. Hope and certainty are very different things.
Nathan blows out a slow breath.
“Anything useful?”
“Maybe.”
That earns me a look.
“Which means no.”
“Which means maybe.” I slide the cell back into my pocket and fold my arms across my chest.
The message isn’t necessarily bad news because if it were, Maarten would have said so directly. But it isn’t good news either.
I reread it, searching for something I might have missed the first time. There isn’t much there. Maarten rarely wastes words, but this feels different even for him.
Yannis has been seen.
For years Europe has been little more than a collection of rumors, half-truths, and blood-soaked reports passed from one trusted source to another.
Every few months somebody claims to have seen Luuk.
Every few months somebody else swears Jameson is dead.
Packs disappear. Alliances shift. Luther tightens his grip.
Then the trail goes cold again and the cycle repeats.
But a sighting of Yannis is different.
Yannis was one of Luuk’s closest allies before everything fell apart. One of the few powerful alphas who openly stood beside him. Luther targeted him almost immediately after taking power.
Until now, nobody has known whether he was alive or dead.
Across the field, Ryder finally manages to catch Val off guard long enough to land a solid hit. The look of triumph on his face lasts less than a second before Val promptly plants him on his ass.
Harley’s laughter echoes across the training grounds.
For a moment, standing there in the sunlight, watching people I care about build lives that only weeks ago seemed impossible, I allow myself to believe we’re finally getting ahead of things.
Peace, however fragile, has finally found its way back to us. The problem is that peace has never lasted very long in my world.
I look toward the horizon, my thoughts drifting thousands of miles away to a continent I’ve never been able to completely ignore.
After all these years, I’ve learned to trust the feeling when it settles into my gut and refuses to leave.
The last time I ignored it, people died. This time, I won’t make that mistake.
Nathan follows my gaze.
“You really think something’s happening.”
I glance down at the message one final time. Yannis has been missing for years. Men like him don't suddenly reappear without a reason.
I slip the cell back into my pocket and watch Ryder climb to his feet yet again.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
Because whether Maarten realizes it or not, I think he’s just told me the most interesting thing I’ve heard out of Europe in years.
And that worries me.