Final Chapter Genevieve’s POVThe pack gathered at the ridge by dusk, drawn not by ceremony but by instinct by something older than custom or title. The grass was soft beneath our feet, lit gold by the dying sun, and the wind carried the scent of pine, earth, and something warmer. Hope.André stood beside me in the clearing, not dressed in anything ceremonial just a black shirt with the sleeves rolled, boots dusty from the trail. No armor. No crown. No sharp edges.Just him.The wolf who forgot. The man who came back.The mate who chose me again.I could feel the pulse of the bond thudding beneath my skin, stronger now than it had ever been, like it had survived death itself and grown louder for it.“I thought it would feel different,” I murmured, adjusting the hem of my dress as we stood facing each other.He tilted his head, smiling slightly. “Does it feel wrong?”“No,” I said. “It feels… quiet. Like I’m not fighting for you anymore.”“That’s because you don’t have to.”Keira stood
Tex’s POVI didn’t remember falling asleep, but I remembered waking up.Not in a cold cell or a crowded barracks. Not with bruises forming and blood drying on my ribs. But warm. Soft.Safe.The sheets smelled like sandalwood and storm winds, the kind of scent that clung to skin and whispered of power kept tightly leashed. The mattress beneath me was far too soft for someone like me someone who spent years learning how to rest with one eye open and a knife under the pillow.I wasn’t used to this.I wasn’t used to being wanted.But Xander he didn’t ask me to understand it. He just kept showing up.I opened my eyes to find him standing near the window, shirtless, a steaming mug in his hand, gaze fixed on the horizon as if the world owed him an explanation. He didn’t notice I was awake at first. Or maybe he did, and he was just giving me the space to breathe.He always did that. Never crowding never forcing just there.His presence was big in a room. Not loud, not aggressive but steady. H
Genevieve’s POVI woke to silence.But it wasn’t the kind that sent fear skittering up my spine. It was thick, heavy with something unspoken charged. The air around me felt different. Like the room itself had taken a deep breath and was holding it.I blinked against the morning light, slow to rise, until I felt it— im.André.He was already sitting up beside me, shirtless, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed like he’d been waiting. Watching. Thinking. His scent was stronger than usual earthy, electric. The wolf close beneath the surface. When he turned to look at me, I knew instantly.Everything was back.I could see it in his eyes. No more confusion. No more searching. No gentle hesitations or nervous half-smiles. His gaze was sharp, burning, whole. He remembered.“All of it?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.His answer was slow. Heavy. Deliberate.“Every second. Every fight. Every time I touched you. Every time I made you scream my name and beg me to stop teasing you and ev
André’s POVSleep didn’t come gently that night. It swallowed me whole.One moment, I was lying beside Genevieve, her breath warm against my shoulder, her fingers laced in mine as if afraid I’d disappear if she let go. The next, I was nowhere. No bed. No walls. No time. Just dark deep and endless, stretching in every direction. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like being buried alive inside my own mind.Then I heard it.The growl.Low. Ancient. Not a sound of threat but of presence. Of power. Of pain.It echoed through me like thunder.“You’re not lost,” the voice rumbled, not in words exactly, but in understanding. “You can’t be lost. I’ve been here. I never left.”My wolf.Not a beast. Not an echo. A part of me. My protector. My anchor. The version of myself that knew the truth before I was ever ready to face it.He emerged from the black, massive and glowing faintly gold beneath his fur. His eyes were mine but clearer. Older. Timeless. And he was angry. Not with me. But at the
Genevieve’s POV The sun was beginning to dip behind the treeline, casting long golden shadows across the kitchen floor. Keira had left an hour ago, heading out to visit old friends in the southern ridge, promising she’d be back before nightfall. The house had gone quiet in her absence peaceful, warm. The air smelled faintly of tea leaves and something sweet André had tried to help me bake earlier. He’d failed spectacularly, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d laughed. A real laugh, not hollow or polite. I’d held onto the sound like it was something sacred.Now, he stood near the window, arms folded across his chest, watching the light shift through the glass. The evening glow hit the side of his face, outlining the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his brow, the soft shadows under his eyes. He looked… like himself. Not just the shell of the man I’d been caring for. André Vitale. Alpha. Warrior. Lover. The man who once held me so tightly I forgot how to stand on my own and then taught me
André’s POV I heard their laughter before I opened my eyes. It wasn’t loud, not forced or shrill the way laughter sometimes sounds when people are trying too hard. It was quiet, muffled through the walls and low enough that it slipped into my dreams like sunlight through blinds gentle, uninvited, but warm. It sounded… normal. Familiar.It sounded like home.I blinked slowly, adjusting to the soft orange glow bleeding through the curtains. The room smelled like herbs and vanilla, something brewing just beyond the doorway. My body ached, the same dull throb in my ribs and shoulder that always greeted me first thing in the morning, but it didn’t feel like pain today. Just a reminder that I was alive. Still here.Still healing.I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to disturb the blanket that had been pulled over me sometime in the night. When I sat upright, I could hear them more clearly Keira and Genevieve, their voices bouncing off the kitchen walls in that easy rhythm women fall int