Epilogue Nice Trick, Juliet
Dorian
Ileave Fate’s cottage at sunrise.
She is still asleep upstairs, tangled in quilts and soft gold light, one hand curled against the pillow where I had been. I stand in the doorway longer than I should.
I check the wards on my way out because I am still me.
Outside, fog hangs low over the garden, silver and quiet. My deep blue sedan waits beneath the cedar.
I get in, shut the door, and check my messages.
The text from the Coroner last night is still open.
Plumber death: belladonna poisoning. Apparent self-administration. No foreign DNA recovered.
One anomalous item found in right coat pocket: single strand of saffron.
A strand of saffron.
That is not an accident.
It is a calling card.
My hand tightens around the phone.
I sit for one minute, preparing my next steps.
Fate and I are safe in our love. That part is clear.
The current tide of killings and threats has ended with the poisoning of the perpetrator.
We are safe.
Our love is safe.
I should feel relaxed for once.
And happy.
And I am.
I look around and actually smile at the cozy warmth of Fate's cottage in the early morning light.
My breathing slows.
Everything will be fine moving forward I tell myself.
We got this.
That's when I hear it.
A voice.
Unknown.
Whispering through the atmosphere.
Just three simple words.
Nice trick, Juliet.
The world goes still.
My wolf rises.
The purple thread beneath my ribs flares hard enough to burn.
I look toward Fate’s cottage, then to the fog waiting between the trees.
And I know…with absolute clarity: Somewhere in Everwilde Bay,—
the curse is still listening.
THE END
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