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The detective looked straight into the camera. “If anyone has information about the whereabouts of this young Omega, we ask that you contact us through the secure channels listed below. She is not under investigation. She is avictimin this case.”

The screen shifted again, this time showing an old, blurry photo. A teenager, thin and pale, eyes downcast. Christa at maybe fifteen or sixteen, probably just after her dad had passed away. The image made my chest hurt.

The anchor returned, voice low. “Sources say the estate could be worth several billion in assets and holdings, including property currently under Tracy Welch’s name.”

Christa’s tea mug slipped from her fingers and hit the carpet with a softthud.She didn’t seem to notice.

I looked around the room. No one moved. No one spoke. We were all frozen, trapped in the quiet shock of it.

Not just because Tracy had been arrested.

Not even because the detective had asked for Christa to come forward and claim what's hers.

No, what held us breathless… was the scope of it. Thevalidationof everything Christa had endured. The doors that were suddenly opening and the truthout there,finally, in daylight. On camera.

They weren’t hunting her. They werelookingfor her.

And maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of the end of her being afraid.

Epilogue

The living room floor was covered in glossy prints, photo corners curling slightly under the weight of late afternoon sunlight. I sat barefoot in the middle of it all, my belly a soft, round curve beneath my oversized tee, one hand absently resting atop it while the other hovered over a shot of dandelions in a field at golden hour.

“No, left wall,” I muttered to myself, sliding it into a new pile.

Drew snorted behind me. “That’s the third time you’ve moved that one. At this rate, the baby’s going to be helping pick your layout.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “She has excellent taste.”

“I’m surehedoes,” he said, gently nudging a stack closer with his toe. “But you’re the one who has to be satisfied with it. This is your show.”

My show.

I still couldn’t quite believe it. A solo exhibit for me!Capturing the Quiet. All mine. Funded by a local arts grant, curated by the gallery two towns over, and set to open in less than two weeks.

I glanced at the far end of the display table, where the photo from our bonding ceremony stood framed and waiting. The image was soft yet striking at the same time. Done in grayscale. Me in a pale dress, curls pinned back, my hair the only pop of colour on the photo, lips trembling in a half-laugh as all four of my mates stood around me, each one proud and radiant, chests puffed out like the protective assholes they could be.

Just behind us, barely visible and out of focus near the treeline, was a shadowed figure. Watching. Protecting. The only photo I had of Marigold.

The moment I saw it in the proofs, I knew I had to include it.

I traced the edge of the print with one fingertip, thinking back to that day, and to the week that followed. The Omega Centre had cleared my registration without so much as a fine, thanks to a few well-placed calls from William and Annerly. Apparently, exposing a high-level Omega trafficking ring earned you a lot of goodwill.

After our ceremony everyone wanted me to get into the family business immediately. Lucky for me, I had two Daddies who very much liked boardroom battles and getting their hands dirty in the restaurant business so they'd quickly stepped in for me when I asked them to.

William’s voice floated in from the hallway before he even entered. “—tell Anton to hold the acquisition another quarter if the board needs time. We’re not rushing just to beat Langston to the punch. I’d rather we—” He stepped through the archway, phone pressed to one ear, eyes scanning the room until they found me.

And softened.

He finished the call quickly, murmured something to his assistant, then hung up and crossed to me, stepping carefully over prints without breaking stride. He leaned down and kissed me slow, lingering, one large hand warm against my cheek.

“Mmm.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Are yousureyou don’t want to weigh in on this deal? We’re talking full control of a multi-state distribution line. Big stuff.”

I smiled against his mouth. “No, thank you. I’m much happier barefoot, pregnant, and sorting photos while my very handsome pack makes all the money.”

Drew let out a laugh. “She says that like her art’s not about to outsell all our combined ventures.”

William looked genuinely thoughtful. “He's not wrong.”

I rolled my eyes at their adorable and misplaced confidence and picked up another photo. This one was of Annerly asleep on the porch swing, William’s head in his lap, both of them lit by the early dawn. One of the quiet ones. One of my favourites.

I laid it beside the bonding photo, where it belonged.

Outside, a breeze stirred the wind chimes. Inside, our pack bond hummed soft and sweet. No static, no fear. Only love. Only peace.

This is what I'd been waiting for my whole life.

This was home.

The End