LOGINOh. My. God.I genuinely do not know how to start this, because how do you sum up 1.1 million words in a few paragraphs? How do you compress sleepless nights, tears that came out of nowhere while writing a single sentence, and the kind of joy that made me want to message every one of you at 2am just to say did you SEE that scene? (Yeah, see... because I envision every scene and play it like a movie in my mind... he.he.he)I can't believe we're here. The end of Blind Alpha series.Thank you. Truly, completely, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for reading. For commenting. For all the gifts, and gems. For yelling at me in the comments when I was unable to publish a chapter or wrote a short chapter. For sitting with these characters the way I sat with them, for loving them messily and completely the way I needed you to. This story would not be what it is without you on the other side of the screen, turning the page, waiting for the next update.I am overwhelmed. I don't have a more
JuneSeven years laterSome wishes, when they come true, surprise you not by failing but by becoming so much more than you knew how to want.I stand at the kitchen sink washing the last of the prep dishes, looking out the window at the green that stretches beyond the glass in every direction. The land is thick and unhurried this morning, the way it always is, trees at the far edge of the property moving slightly in the breeze, the grass still holding the damp of last night. Somewhere out there our wolves have worn soft paths through the undergrowth from years of running, and I know every one of those paths by heart now the way I know the layout of every room in this house, by feel, without having to think.I always hoped for a place that was mine.That was the wish, the one I carried so quietly for so long that I stopped calling it a wish and started calling it just something I accepted I would probably never have. A place to belong. A place that recognized me when I walked through th
JuneSophia and Aurora are debating my hair with the particular conviction of two people who both know they are right and have no intention of conceding, their hands moving expressively while they talk over each other.Anastasia is sitting near the window watching them with the calm amusement of someone who has seen this exact dynamic before and already knows how it ends. Rose has decided that today she is my personal assistant, which currently means she is standing very close to me holding a bud of rose she selected herself and waiting for someone to tell her where it goes.Reed has wedged himself into the corner of the settee with a very serious expression, something that seems foreign on a four years old yet on him it seems natural, having appointed himself guardian of the room like he believes he needs to protect everyone. Kane and Astrid, are just being themselves and completely unbothered playing their own made up game, sitting on the floor near Elise, one on each side of her.E
CalebThe sky above us is the most extraordinary thing I have ever seen.Not blue exactly. Not any single color. It shifts between shades that do not have names, moving the way the surface of water moves when light hits it from an angle, and I can look directly at it without it hurting my eyes. That is the strangest part. There is no squinting, no burning, no need to look away. Just this vast brilliant canopy above us that seems to go on forever and somehow feels like it is only for us.June's head is on my shoulder.I can feel the weight of it, the particular way she settles against me when she has decided she is comfortable and has no intention of moving, and my arm is around her and the grass beneath us is not quite grass, softer than grass, more like the idea of grass, like someone described it perfectly without ever having touched it. Everything here is like that. The right feeling of things without the exact substance of them.Everything feels the way things are supposed to feel
CalebAwareness comes back slowly, in layers, the way it does when the body has been somewhere very far away and is not entirely sure it made it back.The first thing I feel is her hand.I do not know how long I have been holding it. My fingers are wrapped around hers and I feel it before I feel anything else, before I feel the floor under me or the sounds in the room or the weight of my own body, I feel her hand in mine and I feel how cold it is. How clammy. The pulse underneath her skin is barely there, a faint flicker that I have to press my fingers close to catch at all, and her chest is rising and falling in the particular slow shallow way that tells me every breath is costing her something she does not have left to spend.June.The thought arrives before I am fully conscious and it is the only thought there is.I open my eyes.The room rushes in all at once, light and sound and the faces of people I love arranged around me with expressions I do not want to read too carefully bec
SohpiaI hold Caleb's hand in both of mine and I take a breath that I try to make slow and even, and then I close my eyes and I call my darkness forward.It comes the way it always comes, not rushing, not violent, just rising, the way water rises in a room with no drain, filling the space inside me from the bottom up until I can feel it pressing against the inside of my ribs and the back of my eyes and the palms of my hands where they are wrapped around my brother's. It is cold. It is always cold. I have never found a way to make that part different and I stopped trying a long time ago. The cold is part of it. The cold is how I know it is real.I do not hate this part of myself.This is also mine. It grew inside me the same way my healing did, without asking permission, and I cannot hate something that is simply part of the shape of me. I have made peace with it.What I have not made peace with is the price.There is always a price. That is the one constant of every blessing I have ev
AuroraI have been at this for hours.I know because the light has changed. It starts soft, gentle, brushing my skin like it is only passing through. Now it presses down, heavy and bright, sitting on my shoulders like it plans to stay. The morning slips into afternoon without asking me, and the sun
LucasAurora walks toward us before I can get my thoughts in order. I notice the way her steps shorten when she is serious, like she is conserving something. She stops in front of Ryan, tilting her head just slightly, eyes sharp but not accusing.“Your mother?” she asks. “But why?”Ryan swallows. I
LucasThe pull reaches me before I consciously name it.It settles deep in my chest, quiet but unyielding, like a hand closing around my ribs and turning me in a specific direction. My wolf stirs at the sensation, not with strength, not with hunger, but with recognition. He is still weak, still rec
JuneWe are halfway to breakfast when the whistle cuts through the morning air.My steps slow with everyone else’s. The sound echoes off the buildings, off the trees, off whatever part of me is still caught on the memory of bare skin and warmth and a hand where it should not have been. That stranger







