Epilogue 1 Megan
There’s a very specific kind of silence that only comes after supernatural carnage.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
More like exhausted, singed-around-the-edges, and way too aware of how many haunted house renovations need to happen yesterday.
Crypt Mansion is a smoldering wreck. Ghost residue coats the lawn like ash. Half the town is here, pitchforking ghouls back into the ground like it’s a community service project.
Esmerelda made chocolate chunk cookies. And even Delilah brought donuts.
It’s chaos.
And I love it.
The only thing missing?
Him.
Owen’s been avoiding me for two days. No calls. No psychic nudges. No “hey, remember that time I turned into a massive monster wolf and ripped through a revenant to save you?” texts.
Coward.
He’s thirty feet away, pretending to dig a drainage trench with Preacher, like I can’t see his golden eyes flick toward me every two minutes before snapping away like a guilty teenager.
I could call him out.
But instead?
I turn to his mother.
Annabeth—who is elbow-deep in sorting out cursed laundry that somehow smells like sulfur and lavender. She’s bossing people around with one hand and folding socks with the other.
I walk right up to her.
“Hi,” I say, loud enough to carry. “I just wanted to let you know you can keep coming over to Owen’s place to do your laundry twice a month.”
She raises an eyebrow, curious. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” I nod, sweet as sugar. “As long as you don’t mind adding mine to it. Since I’m moving in.”
The world stills.
Someone drops a shovel. Delilah gasps. I swear the wind stops blowing.
And from behind me—“What?” Owen’s voice rumbles low and stunned.
I don’t turn around. Not yet.
I smile at Annabeth and add, “I’ll separate delicates. Promise.”
Then I turn.
Owen is standing there, trench shovel forgotten, shirt streaked with sweat and dirt, eyes wide and glowing.
“You’re moving in?” he breathes.
“You’re my mate,” I say simply, walking toward him. “And I’m hoping, maybe also my roommate?”
His mouth opens. Closes. “You’re serious.”
“I put in for a transfer this morning.” My voice shakes just a little. “Effective immediately, I’ll be the first ever DPCA agent permanently assigned to one town.”
I stop inches from him.
“You know, after the other night I didn’t think this was a question anymore,” I say to him, hands on my hips.
“Emotions were high, Agent. Didn’t want you thinking I was a Neanderthal,” he growls.
“Emotions are always high in this town. Anyway, it looks like Arrhythmia is here to stay.”
He swallows hard. “You mean that?”
I reach up and press my palm to his chest—where I can feel that golden thread that ties us together hum beneath my skin.
“Owen,” I whisper. “You said I was yours. And you’re mine. That means you, your Wolf, your weird, haunted town—I love it all. Everything about you. And I’ll do what I can to protect this place right by your side if you want me,” I say, feeling oddly vulnerable.
He exhales sharply.
And then he pulls me into his arms like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“You mean that? You wanna live here with me? You’re not scared of what I am?”
I shake my head. “I adore what you are.”
A low growl of happiness rumbles from his chest.
And just like that, Owen finally lets himself believe I’m staying.
For good.
Because love?
Real love?
Isn't scared of monsters.
It chooses them.
Every damn day.