What Happens At The End Of 'Carry: A Memoir Of Survival On Stolen Land'?

The solar flares fried the world A sudden wolf gene turned half the population into beasts. Now humans are either breeders, collaborators, or …dead. I was Rylan's breeder. Until he found his "mate" and told me to run. So I ran. Now I trade my body for shelter. My mouth for food. My cunt for a knife to sleep with. Sex isn't love out here. It's currency… It's the only language the people in this wasteland understand. Four of them want me now. A cursed Alpha who threw me away but can't stop hunting me. A scarred commander with something feral crawling under his skin. A man who remembers nothing of his past yet had never been touched gently in his life. And a wolf lord's son who sees something in me I don't even see in myself. There's also a bandana-faced scavenge, He pins me in the dark and tells me to run. He's not one of the four. He's just the reason I sleep with a knife. They all think I'm just a breeder… warm body…A hole to fill…. They don't know I'm the last one left who remembers what the world was like before the fire. And I'm done being used. Let them come. I'll take their cocks in my pussy, their lies to my ears , their desperate hands on every curve on my body and then?… I'll take their throats.

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

Mom said I needed to toughen up, so she made me walk home alone. "You're ten. Everyone else can do it. Why can't you? If you were even half as capable as your cousin, I wouldn't have to worry so much." I shook my head and signed, [I can't hear. Crossing streets isn't safe.] She gave me that look. Total disappointment. Then she walked off with my cousin, Sadie. What Mom didn't know was that before school let out, Sadie had stopped me. Said she was helping Mom make me independent. Then she snatched my hearing aid. Now the whole world was silent. I followed the crowd down the sidewalk. At a small intersection, a car spun out, horn blaring. Everyone scattered. Everyone but me. I couldn't hear it. My spirit rose above the street. Below, my body lay in a pool of blood. Mom... Sorry. I couldn't do this independence thing.

The year I turned sixteen, the water supply of Moonlight Pack was contaminated. A desperate, burning thirst spread through every household. Owen was the one who found me half-dead and carried me home. His parents didn't just open their door to me. They shared what little water and food they had left. Everyone said it was because we were fated mates, destined to be together. But anyone could see the truth. His family loved me from the bottom of their hearts. The year I turned twenty, Owen asked me to be his mate. He gave me a silver dagger he'd forged with his own hands. He said that when he wasn't by my side, this dagger would protect me in his place. That very night, I used it to kill everyone in his family.

Amara is the lowest-ranking omega in the Silver Ridge Pack. Orphaned at twelve, she survived by making herself useful — cooking, cleaning, tending wounds nobody else had patience for. She never expected the Moon Goddess to pair her with Alpha Kael, the most powerful wolf in the region. But on the night of the mating ceremony, in front of the entire pack, Kael looks her in the eyes and says three words that shatter her world: I reject you. He chooses Vanessa, the strong, beautiful daughter of a neighboring alpha. A political match. A power move. Amara is nothing to him. But instead of crumbling, Amara does what no rejected omega has ever done. She walks out of the pack. Alone. With nothing. In the wild, she discovers a group of rogues — wolves cast out from their packs for being different. A blind warrior. A mother with a scarred face. Twin pups with no parents. And leading them all, a scarred, silent alpha named Ronan who trusts no one and speaks even less. Amara also discovers something inside herself she never knew existed. Her hands can heal. Not just wounds but broken bonds, fractured spirits, even cursed wolves. She carries a gift so rare the Moon Goddess herself has not granted it in three hundred years. As Amara builds a new pack from broken pieces, word of the Healing Wolf spreads across the region. Packs that once ignored her now seek her help. Alphas who never knew her name now bow their heads. And Kael, the alpha who threw her away, realizes that the quiet omega he rejected was the most powerful wolf he will ever meet. He comes looking for her. But Amara is no longer his. She is no longer anyone's. She is her own.

The night I was kidnapped, I made one last phone call to my dad, police captain Marcus Harper. "Dad, save me!" "Grace, even your jealous tantrums should have better timing." On the other end of the line, he was celebrating his adopted daughter's birthday. His voice dripped with impatience. "Today is Annie's eighteenth birthday. Pushing her down the stairs wasn't enough for you? Now you have to lie and make a scene too?" I cried and told him I hadn't done it. All I got in return was a dismissive chuckle. "Grace, either come home right now and apologize to Annie, or don't ever come back." I never made it back. Three months later, a girl's body was unearthed at an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of the city. Dad led the team to the scene. He pulled back the blue tarp covering the body and saw the red cord around my wristbone, the one with "Stay Safe" engraved on its silver tag. The man who had saved countless missing children finally lost his mind.