Epilogue
Six Months Later
Wren
The fish wins again.
I lean over the edge of the dock, staring down into the water.
“I swear that one laughed at me.”
Behind me, Boone chuckles.
“Fish don’t laugh.”
“That one did.”
“You’re imagining things.”
I glance over my shoulder.
Boone stands a few feet away, leaning casually against one of the wooden posts of the dock.
Sunlight glints off the river behind him.
He looks entirely too relaxed for someone who just watched me lose another fishing battle.
“You sabotaged me,” I accuse.
“I absolutely did not.”
“You’re clearly protecting the fish.”
“I’m protecting the river’s ecosystem.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
Boone laughs again and walks over beside me.
Six months ago I didn’t know places like this existed.
Now—
This dock.
This lake.
This quiet life.
They feel like home.
The morning sun spreads across the water, turning the surface gold.
The air smells like pine trees and fresh coffee drifting from the house behind us.
And for once—
There are no alarms.
No countdown clocks.
No collapsing systems.
Just the sound of water gently moving against the dock.
Boone rests his arm lightly around my shoulders.
“You’re getting better,” he says.
“That’s not what the fish think.”
“You caught three yesterday.”
“They were small.”
“They still count.”
I sigh dramatically.
“Fine.”
“I’ll accept partial victory.”
He smiles.
“You’ve come a long way.”
I glance up at him.
“From rewriting infrastructure systems to losing fights with fish?”
“Exactly.”
I nudge his side.
“You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Probably not.”
The water stretches quietly toward the horizon.
A small boat drifts lazily across the far side of the water.
Life here moves slower.
Gentler.
Exactly the way Boone promised it would.
And the strange part is—
I’ve grown to love it.
“You know what I realized this morning?” I say.
“What?”
“I haven’t checked a system log in weeks.”
“That’s progress.”
“I also haven’t worried about the observer node.”
“That’s even better progress.”
The system is gone.
Sentinel’s architecture dismantled piece by piece.
Nothing left for anyone to rebuild.
The world moved on.
And somehow—
So did we.
Boone studies me for a moment.
“You’re happy here.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
He nods slightly.
“Good.”
Then he reaches into his pocket.
I blink.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls out a small box.
My brain takes a moment to catch up.
“Boone…”
“You said you liked simple things.”
“Yes.”
“So I figured I’d keep this simple.”
He opens the box.
The ring catches the sunlight.
For a second—
I forget how to breathe.
“You saved a city,” he says quietly.
“You helped end a system that could have changed the world.”
“But the thing I care about most…”
“…is building a life with you. I have always loved you. I want to spend my life with you forever.”
My heart pounds in my chest.
“Wren McKay,” Boone says softly.
“Will you stay here with me?”
I laugh through the sudden rush of tears.
“You didn’t even say the words.”
He smiles slightly.
“Will you marry me?”
I stare at him.
The river shines behind him.
The quiet house waiting up the hill.
The future we’ve been building day by day.
“Yes,” I say.
“Of course I will. I love you so much.”
Boone slides the ring onto my finger.
Then pulls me into his arms.
The kiss is warm.
Slow.
Certain.
The kind that promises forever.
Behind us—
The river ripples gently.
The dock creaks softly beneath our feet.
And somewhere beneath the water—
A fish jumps.
I pull back slightly and laugh.
“Even the fish approve.”
Boone shakes his head.
“That’s definitely not what they’re doing.”
“Well.”
“I’m taking it as a good sign.”
He smiles.
“I think everything about this is a good sign.”
And for the first time in my life—
The future doesn’t feel like something to analyze.
Or predict.
Or control.
It feels like something to live.
Together.