LOGIN(EPILOGUE)Sabrina’s POV.Three Years Later.The garden of the villa was unrecognizable. Where there had once been shadows and manicured, intimidating hedges, there was now a riot of color. Balloons—blue, silver, and white—bobbed in the summer breeze, tied to the backs of chairs. A bouncy castle in the shape of a dragon sat on the lawn, vibrating with the screams of a dozen toddlers.I stood on the patio, holding a tray of cupcakes, and smiled."Brie! Incoming!"I looked up just in time to see a small, dark-haired missile sprinting toward me across the grass."Mama! Mama! Look!"Asher, now a sturdy, energetic three-year-old, skidded to a halt in front of me. His knees were grass-stained, his paper crown was crooked, and his face was smeared with blue icing."I see you, Ash," I laughed, kneeling down to wipe his cheek with a napkin. "Did you slay the dragon?""Yes!" he beamed, puffing out his chest. "Daddy helped. We roared at it!"I looked across the lawn. Cole was climbing out of the
Sabrina’s POV.The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the master bedroom, casting warm, golden squares onto the duvet.I stood in front of the full-length mirror, examining the reflection that stared back at me. I looked different than I did six months ago. My hair was longer, my skin had regained its color, and there was a quiet strength in my posture that hadn't been there before the fire.I reached up and traced the scar on my left shoulder. It was a jagged, pink line—a permanent souvenir from the night at the shipping yards. For the first few weeks, I had hated looking at it. It was a reminder of the pain, the fear, the smell of gunpowder.But now, as I ran my fingertips over the raised skin, I didn't feel fear. I felt pride. It was a battle scar. It was proof that I had fought for my son and won."You’re staring at it again."I smiled and watched Cole’s reflection appear behind me in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my uninjured
Sabrina’s POV.Waking up felt like swimming through syrup.My eyelids were heavy, glued shut by exhaustion and the remnants of anesthesia. I tried to move, but a sharp, burning pull in my left shoulder made me gasp.The sound was small, but it was enough to shatter the silence of the room."Brie?"I forced my eyes open. The room was bathed in the pale, sterile light of early morning. I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to a beeping monitor. My left arm was immobilized in a sling against my chest.And sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed was Cole.He looked terrible. His dress shirt was rumpled and stained with dried blood—my blood, Elise’s blood. He hadn't shaved, and dark stubble covered his jaw. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn't blinked in hours.But in his arms, tucked securely against his chest, was Asher.My son was fast asleep, his tiny fist gripping Cole’s collar."Hi," I croaked, my throat feeling like sandpaper."Hi," Cole let out a breath that so
Cole’s POV.The walk from the abandoned office building to the ambulance waiting in the yard felt like a funeral procession in reverse.I walked beside the gurney, my hand gripping the metal rail so tight my knuckles ached. Sabrina lay on the stretcher, her face pale against the white sheets, an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The paramedic had insisted on it to help with the shock.I held Asher in my other arm. He was awake, looking around with wide, startled eyes at the flashing red and blue lights that turned the shipping yard into a disco of tragedy."Sir, we need you to ride in the front," the driver said as they loaded Sabrina into the back."No," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "I’m riding in the back. With my wife."The paramedic looked at my face, saw the blood on my shirt—some mine, mostly Elise’s from the bite, some Sabrina’s—and decided not to fight me."Get in," he sighed.I climbed into the cramped space, settling on the bench seat. I kept Asher tight
Sabrina’s POV.The world seemed to move in slow motion.I sat slumped against the metal filing cabinet, my hand pressed hard against the burning fire in my shoulder. Blood was hot and sticky between my fingers, soaking into the fabric of my jacket, but the pain felt distant. Like it was happening to someone else.My eyes were locked on Elise.She had that look in her eyes—the look of a trapped animal realizing there is only one escape left. She lunged for the shattered window."No!" Cole roared.He didn't fire the gun. He dropped it.He threw himself across the room, diving over the overturned chair.Elise was halfway out the window, her body teetering over the three-story drop into the concrete yard. The wind whipped her hair around her face, carrying her manic laughter out into the night.Cole’s hand shot out. He caught her by the back of her scrub top."Let me go!" Elise shrieked, clawing at the window frame, kicking her legs out into the void. "Let me fly, Cole! Don't let them cag
Cole’s POV.The front door of the Administration Building groaned on its rusted hinges as I pushed it open.The darkness inside was absolute. It smelled of wet rot, rat droppings, and the metallic tang of old industry. It was the smell of a kingdom that had fallen long ago—fitting for the woman waiting upstairs."Elise!" I shouted again, my voice echoing up the stairwell. "I’m coming up! Don't shoot!"I held my gun in my right hand, kept low against my thigh. I knew I couldn't use it. Not unless I had a clear shot, and not unless I was 100% sure I wouldn't hit Asher. The risk was too high.Silence answered me. The singing I had heard from outside had stopped.I moved toward the stairs, stepping over piles of debris. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but my mind was icy cold. I had to be the Wolf. I had to be the man she remembered—the protector, the partner, the childhood love. If I showed fear, or anger, or hatred, she would snap.I climbed the first flight of







