CHAPTER 26

Epilogue: Five Years Later

KIAN

The smell of fresh wood shavings filled my workshop as I ran my hand over the table I'd just finished. Oak, built to last. Mrs. Grace would be happy with it.

Five years since I'd left pack life behind. Five years since I'd moved to this small town where nobody knew who I was or what I'd done. Here, I was just Kian—the carpenter who did good work and kept to himself.

My wolf stirred weakly inside me. He'd never fully recovered from the severed mate bond. I'd never shift again, not completely. Some days it hurt. Most days, I accepted it as the price I deserved to pay.

The bell above my shop door rang. Old Mr. Rodriguez walked in, smiling.

"Kian! The chairs you made for my daughter's restaurant—everyone loves them. She wants to order ten more."

"I can have them ready in three weeks," I told him.

After he left, I went back to sanding. This was my life now. Simple. Quiet. Honest work with my hands. No pack politics. No power plays. No one to hurt.

Sometimes I heard news through the grapevine. Last month, someone mentioned that Violet had published another paper on advanced healing techniques. Six months before that, I'd heard her healing center had expanded to train wolves from three territories.

Each time I heard her name, something twisted in my chest. Regret, yes. But also genuine happiness. She'd made it. She'd survived what I did to her and built something incredible.

I'd never contact her again. That was my gift to her—letting her live in peace without reminders of the worst years of her life.

The sun was setting over the ocean outside my window. I cleaned up my tools and locked the shop.

My life wasn't glamorous. I lived alone in a small house. I ate dinner by myself most nights. I'd never have another mate or the Alpha position I'd been raised to expect.

But for the first time in my life, I was at peace with who I was.

That had to count for something.

VIOLET’S POV

"Mama! Mama, look what I found!"

I looked up from the herb garden to see my daughter Lily running toward me, her dark hair flying behind her. She held up a smooth stone shaped like a heart.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," I said, kneeling down to examine it.

My son Jace appeared behind her, walking slower with his father's careful pace. "I told her you were working, but she insisted."

I laughed and pulled them both into a hug. "I always have time for you two."

Damian appeared in the doorway of our home, watching us with that soft smile that still made my heart skip. Five years of marriage, and he still looked at me like I was the most precious thing in his world.

"Someone's been asking for you at the healing center," he called. "But I told them the Head Healer is taking the afternoon off for her anniversary."

Right. Our fifth wedding anniversary. The one that counted—the second ceremony, the real one.

After dinner and putting the children to bed, Damian led me to our bedroom. On the bed sat a leather-bound book wrapped in silver ribbon.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Open it."

Inside were pages and pages of letters in Damian's handwriting. Letters he'd written to me over the past five years but never sent.

"Today you saved a child who everyone said was too far gone. Watching you refuse to give up reminded me why I fell in love with you."

"You laughed so hard at Julius's terrible joke that you snorted, and I realized I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life."

"I'm so proud of the healer you've become. But I'm even more proud of the woman you've always been—the one strong enough to walk away from someone who tried to destroy her."

Tears streamed down my face as I read page after page of his love, his gratitude, his promises for our future.

"Damian," I whispered. "This is…"

"Not as good as yours," he interrupted with a smile.

I reached under our bed and pulled out three leather journals—the ones I'd been keeping for five years. The ones documenting joys instead of disappointments.

"I have over 1,800 entries now," I told him, opening to a specific page. "But this one is my favorite. Number 1,000."

I handed him the journal, and he read aloud:

"Today Damian told our children the story of how we met. He told them their mother is the bravest wolf he's ever known. Watching him look at me with such love and pride, I realized something: I'm not the broken girl who walked away from Kian anymore. I'm whole. Not despite everything I survived, but because of it. I'm exactly who I was meant to be, right where I'm meant to be, with who I'm meant to be with. This is joy number 1,000, and there will be thousands more."

Damian's eyes were wet when he looked up. "You've always been whole, Violet. I just helped you see it."

"No," I said softly. "You saw me when I couldn't see myself. That made all the difference."

Later that evening, we stood together in the moonflower garden while our children played nearby. The full moon hung overhead, painting everything silver.

I thought about the girl I'd been six years ago. Broken. Abused. Losing pieces of herself to someone who didn't value her.

I thought about the journey that brought me here. The pain. The loss. The fear. And ultimately, the triumph.

I looked at Damian—the man who saw my scars and loved me more, not less. I looked at Lily and Jace, healthy and happy. I thought about the dozens of healers I'd trained and the countless lives we'd saved together.

This was what happiness looked like. Not the absence of scars, but the presence of love. Not forgetting the past, but refusing to let it define the future.

"What are you thinking about?" Damian asked, pulling me close.

I smiled. "I'm thinking about how grateful I am that I was brave enough to walk away from what was killing me. I'm thinking about how lucky I am that you were there to catch me when I fell. I'm thinking about how our story could have ended so differently—but it didn't. We made it, Damian. We really made it."

He kissed my forehead. "We did. And we're just getting started."

"Mama! Papa! Come play with us!" Lily called.

Jace grabbed my hand. "Please? Just for a little while?"

We walked back to the packhouse together as the moon rose higher over Silver Moon territory—a symbol of new beginnings, second chances, and the kind of love that heals rather than harms.

Later that night, I added a new entry to my journal. Number 1,847:

"Today, five years after the worst day of my life, I'm celebrating the best years of my life. I have a mate who cherishes me, children who make every day brighter, a calling that gives me purpose, and a pack that's truly home.

I survived betrayal, abuse, and loss. I lost an arm but gained a life worth living.

To anyone reading this who's in the darkness I escaped: you are stronger than you know. You deserve love that builds you up, not tears you down. You deserve to be someone's first choice, not their backup plan.

It won't be easy. Walking away from toxic love feels impossible when you're in it. But I promise you—there's a life waiting on the other side. A life where you're valued, cherished, and safe.

You can survive this. You can heal. You can be happy again.

But first, you have to be brave enough to take that first step and leave."

I closed the journal and looked at Damian sleeping beside me. His arm was draped across my waist, holding me close even in sleep.

I'd spent six years documenting disappointments with Kian. Now I'd spent five years documenting joy with Damian.

The difference was everything.

I turned off the light and settled into Damian's embrace. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new patients, new moments to treasure.

But tonight, I was exactly where I belonged.

Home.

THE END