Epilogue

WILLOW

Nostalgia, that twisted beast, had a way of sneaking up on a person.

Five years had slipped by since we’d arrived back on Moon Shield’s turf with what could only be described as a mad circus.

Looking back now, I wouldn’t dare repeat it, but damn, it’d flipped my world on its head in a way I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Connor had thrown tens of millions of dollars at the packhouse, transforming it into something straight out of a design magazine. What had once been a place to crash and eat had become a playground for the soul, catering to every wild whim one could imagine.

The outdoor spaces had been transformed too: gardens where pups could play safely, training grounds equipped with the latest technology, and gathering spaces that encouraged the kind of community bonds we’d desperately wanted to forge.

We’d needed all of it, too. It’d been the key to our plan on how to raise the pups.

We hadn’t wanted the pups to get lost in a battalion of rotating caregivers, passed from hand to hand in a soulless assembly line of affection. So we’d urged the pack to turn back to communal living, like it had been centuries ago.

Moving back to this way of life hadn’t happened overnight, though. It’d been a hard sell for some—namely, the elders, who’d been especially resistant at first.

They’d been set in their ways, suspicious of change. But when they’d seen how the pups had thrived under the new system, how their confidence had bloomed under the attention of so many caring adults, even the most stubborn hearts had softened.

Everything now operated with flawless precision. Each family played a role in raising every pup, no matter the bloodline or rank or age. The kids knew that any adult would be a safe harbor, but the heartbeat of family life, the core connections, remained intact.

After the whirlwind of taking in all those pups, the chaos of the battle, and the gut-wrenching truths that had unraveled, there hadn’t been much time to breathe, let alone heal.

But Connor, my anchor in that storm, had been there to pull me back from the edge. He’d made me stop, look around, and realize that if I didn’t deal with the trauma, it would deal with me. Through all the madness, he’d been my rock, my lover, and my best friend.

His love, the kids’ giggles, the pack’s unwavering support—it’d all come together. Somewhere along that bumpy road, I’d let go of my survivor’s guilt. I’d found forgiveness for those who had wronged me and, with it, a freedom I hadn’t known was possible.

The healing hadn’t been linear or easy, but it’d been real, and worth every difficult step.

The unmated wolves’ event, a month after that fateful battle, had been a wild ride in itself. We’d lost eight of our best shewolves to other packs, including Connor’s sister Lisa. But we’d gained twelve fresh faces when new mates had moved in.

That event was now a regular fixture, an annual celebration of destiny, love, and the chaotic beauty of life as a werewolf.

The battle against human exploitation had united the Washington packs in a way nothing else could have. Many old rivalries had been buried as packs sought to learn from each other and work together. Most were now embracing modern technology, too.

In the end, only two of the clones had chosen to stay in our pack, though we called them sisters now. But the grim reality of their existence had become clear when we’d watched them age five times faster than normal.

It was a cruel leftover from BioBridge, one last theft—stealing decades from lives that had barely begun to be their own.

Chloe and Clarice had set off on a whirlwind tour of the world, determined to squeeze every moment from what little time they had left. Claudia and Clara had become lifelines for the pups, pouring love into them like an overflowing cup.

We’d spent months searching the continent for the other two clones Connor had seen, following every whisper and rumor. But they’d vanished without a trace. Part of me still believed we’d find them. The rest of me only hoped they were safe, happy, and free.

Alpha Flint and Luna Lily had been executed before the council after months of fruitless interrogation. The pair had remained defiant to the bitter end, their demise a dark chapter of werewolf history finally closed.

The human mercenaries and collaborators of BT Holdings had all been eliminated in ways that hadn’t raised suspicion. A car accident here, a heart attack there, a cottage going up in flames. Clean, efficient, final.

Josh had uncovered more than a few loose ends in the files we’d seized, and those, too, had been tied up in the same manner. Information had been buried, deleted, or, if need be, taken to the grave with its keepers.

It’d been a cold war we’d fought, but five years later, we were confident we’d erased every trace of our existence from the human world.

Two more of my—or my mother’s—babies had been born from surrogate mothers soon after we’d returned, bringing the total to twenty-seven. We’d changed their identification numbers to names, alphabetically by age, from Adam to Zoe.

The kids were finally becoming who they were meant to be—laughing, fighting, living. Most of them had my eyes, hair, and bone structure, but hints of their unknown fathers peeked through in a shock of blonde hair or a pair of brown or blue eyes.

Whether they were my pups or my siblings made no difference; I loved them all.

And now, after years of wishing and waiting, Connor and I were about to welcome a new member to Moon Shield Pack: Connor’s heir, our next alpha.

In two weeks, I’d give birth to a boy, and I couldn’t wait to meet him.

In this crazy, chaotic, upside-down world, I knew he’d be loved as much as all the other pups. Because here in Moon Shield, we’d learned that family wasn’t just defined by blood.

Family could be found.

End of Book 1.