Epilogue
POV: Amara
One Year Later
I used to think happiness would feel bigger.
I thought it would arrive like a storm. Loud. Impossible to ignore. Something so overwhelming that I would never again question whether I had found it.
I was wrong.
Happiness felt like this.
It felt like sunlight spilling across the floor of Riven’s office while I sat surrounded by notes, research journals, and enough silver samples to drive any sane person mad.
It felt like hearing his laugh somewhere down the hallway and smiling before I even realized I was doing it.
It felt like belonging.
I lifted my head from the stack of papers when the office door opened.
Riven stepped inside.
Even after a year, my heart reacted.
Not with the desperate ache that had once haunted me.
Not with the pain of a heat gone wrong.
Just love.
Steady. Certain. Permanent.
His eyes immediately found me.
They always did.
“You’re supposed to be taking a break,” he said.
“I’m working.”
“You’ve been saying that for three hours.”
I grinned. “That’s because it’s true.”
His gaze dropped to the notes scattered across my desk.
The research.
The formulas.
The calculations.
The cure.
A year ago, the curse hanging over the Oak alphas had felt impossible.
Ancient.
Untouchable.
Now we were closer than ever.
Klaus had spent months helping me study every fragment of information we could find. Old records. Forgotten healer journals. Historical accounts dating back generations.
Most people would have stopped.
I hadn’t.
Because I kept thinking about the future.
About sons.
About daughters.
About a little boy inheriting a curse that forced him to spend his life afraid of love.
That future was unacceptable.
So I kept working.
And eventually, piece by piece, the impossible started becoming possible.
Riven crossed the room and rested a hand on my shoulder.
“You know,” he said softly, “most people celebrate their anniversary.”
“We are celebrating.”
His eyebrow lifted.
I pointed at the notes.
He stared.
“Amara.”
“What?”
“This is not a celebration.”
“It is if I break a centuries-old curse.”
A laugh escaped him.
The sound wrapped around my heart.
Warm.
Familiar.
Home.
I leaned back in my chair and looked up at him.
“You once told me you were worried you’d grow old before me.”
His expression softened.
“That wasn’t exactly my finest moment.”
“No. It was pretty pathetic.”
He groaned.
I smiled.
“But that’s why I’m doing this.”
His hand moved to my cheek.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
A year later, I still wasn’t used to the way he looked at me.
Like finding me had changed everything.
Maybe because it had.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
The words never got old.
Never lost their weight.
Never stopped feeling miraculous.
I covered his hand with mine.
“I love you too.”
Outside the office, life continued.
Guards trained.
Wolves laughed.
The pack moved through another ordinary afternoon.
But inside that room, surrounded by research papers and impossible dreams, I realized something.
The best part of our story wasn’t surviving the curse.
It wasn’t finding our mate bond.
It wasn’t even the Moon Ball.
The best part was what came after.
The life we were building together.
And for the first time in generations, I had every intention of making sure it stayed that way.
----
The vial looked ridiculously ordinary.
After a year of research, dozens of failures, countless sleepless nights, and enough silver dust to coat half of Oak territory, the answer sat in my hand looking like nothing more than a pale silver liquid.
I hated that.
Life-changing discoveries should at least glow.
Klaus adjusted his glasses and stared at the vial.
“You are nervous.”
I scoffed.
“I’m not nervous.”
“You have paced a hole into my floor.”
“I’m evaluating.”
“You are pacing.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
The old healer looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Across the room, Riven leaned against the stone wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Watching me.
As always.
His blue eyes followed every movement I made.
“You know,” he said lazily, “for someone who claims to be confident, you look remarkably terrified.”
I pointed at him.
“Don’t start.”
His mouth twitched.
“I’m just saying.”
I groaned and turned away before I threw the vial at his head.
The truth was that I was terrified.
Not because of the experiment.
Not because of the research.
Because of what it meant.
For over a year, I had buried myself in ancient records, healer journals, forgotten histories, and every piece of information we could find about silver exposure and the old alpha curse.
Most people would have stopped.
I hadn’t.
Because every time I looked at Riven, every time I imagined our future, one thought refused to leave me alone.
Children.
What if we had a son?
What if he inherited the curse?
What if one day he stood exactly where Riven once stood, believing he might spend years alone, terrified of making a mistake that would kill him?
No.
Absolutely not.
I refused to accept that.
So I kept working.
I kept searching.
I kept trying.
And eventually, piece by piece, impossible things started making sense.
Klaus finally pushed away from the table.
The room went quiet.
Every nerve in my body tightened.
“Well,” he said.
I swallowed.
The old healer looked between Riven and me.
“There is only one way to find out.”
The silence that followed felt endless.
Riven straightened from the wall and walked toward me.
I looked up at him.
Really looked at him.
The man who had spent fourteen years believing fate had forgotten him.
The man who had prepared himself for a life without a mate.
The man who had been willing to let me go because he thought protecting me mattered more than keeping me.
My chest squeezed.
“Ready?” I asked softly.
His expression softened instantly.
“For you?”
His hand found mine.
“Always.”
My heart nearly broke.Even after a year, he could still do that to me.
Klaus took the vial from my hand.
The silver liquid shimmered under the light.
Then he began.
The test itself wasn’t dramatic.
No lightning.
No glowing symbols.
No magical explosion.
Just careful measurements.
Ancient healer methods.
Modern medicine.
Silver.
Blood.
Magic.
Science.
Every minute felt like an hour.
I couldn’t sit.
Couldn’t stand still.
Couldn’t breathe.
At some point, Riven wrapped an arm around my waist and practically held me in place.
I think he was afraid I would wear a trench into the floor.
Finally, Klaus froze.
My heart stopped.
The old healer stared down at the results.
Then checked them again.
His brow furrowed.
He checked a third time.
“Klaus?” I asked.
Nothing.
“Klaus.”
Still nothing.
Riven stepped forward.
“What is it?”
The old healer slowly lifted his head.
His eyes looked suspiciously bright.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then Klaus laughed.
Actually laughed.
A loud, disbelieving laugh that echoed through the room.
“Impossible.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Klaus shook his head.
“Impossible.”
My voice came out strangled.
“Klaus, stop saying impossible and tell me what happened.”
He looked at me.
Then at Riven.
Then back at me.
“The curse is gone.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
I blinked.
Surely I had heard him wrong.
“The curse…” I whispered.
Klaus smiled.
“The curse is gone.”
Gone.
Not weakened.
Not delayed.
Not controlled.
Gone.
For the first time in generations.
Gone.
My knees nearly gave out.
Riven caught me before I could hit the floor.
I laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
I wasn’t entirely sure which one came first.
The room blurred through tears. All those months.
All those failures.
All those nights wondering if I was chasing something impossible.
And somehow—
Somehow—
We had done it.
I looked up at Riven.
His eyes were fixed on me.
There was something raw in them.
Something beautiful.
Something that made my chest ache.
“You did it,” he whispered.
I shook my head immediately.
“No.”
His brow furrowed.
I slipped my hand into his.
Then squeezed.
“We did.”
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Riven laughed.
A real laugh.
Free.
Light.
The kind of laugh I had almost never heard from him before we became mates.
He pulled me into his arms.
I wrapped mine around his neck.
And as he held me against him, surrounded by silver dust, healer journals, and the future we had fought so hard to build, I realized something.
The best part of our story wasn’t finding each other.
It wasn’t surviving the curse.
It wasn’t the Moon Ball.
It wasn’t fate.
It was choice.
Over and over again, we had chosen each other.
And now, for the first time in generations, the future was ours.
The curse was gone.
The pack was free.
And we were finally home.