Page 36 of Guardian of Talon Mountain

“I don’t hate snow,” I mutter. “I hate losing people in it.”

Caleb’s free hand claims the nape of my neck, thumb rubbing slow circles. “You haven't. You won’t. We'll find him."

He doesn't add 'one way or another' or 'alive or dead,' but I know it's what we're all thinking. But until I have evidence otherwise, I am going to choose to believe I will see my brother again... alive.

The debrief wraps by mid-morning. Outside, sunlight glitters on the ridge like spilled diamonds, the kind that shimmer deceptively before a storm. My boots slip slightly on the frosted steps, and Caleb’s warm hand closes more firmly around my elbow, steadying me with effortless strength. The cold bites through my jeans as a gust cuts sideways across the lot. Halfway down, he stops abruptly, pivoting me toward him until the jagged white peaks rise behind him like a crown. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Stay,” he says. One word, heavy as bedrock. “Winter’s half over. Come spring, we can build a research base here for you. Hell, we'll build ten. I’ll keep the poachers away.”

I laugh and realize how very much I love this man. “You offering personal bodyguard rates?”

“Offering my life,” he answers, grey eyes knife-bright. Then he actually drops to one knee, snow dampening fatigues, and my breath exits in a full-body gasp.

He pulls a stunning platinum band with a diamond surrounded by sapphires from his breast pocket.

"Holy shit," gasps Wren.

The ring catches the sunlight, flashing fire like a glacier under dawn. “Bryn Calder, marry me. Be here, be everywhere with me. I’ll argue, I’ll protect, I’ll carry your gear and kiss you silent when you start lecturing wolves. Say yes.”

The world tilts, snow-glare haloing him. I barely manage a whisper: “Yes, Caleb Knox. A thousand times yes.”

He slides the ring onto my finger with a reverence that sends a pulse straight through my core; it fits like destiny, like my hand has known its weight forever.

He stands and gathers me into his arms, the rough plane of his chest pressing into mine. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that starts slow—an exploration, a promise—and deepens with every passing second. His tongue teases, tasting me, claiming me with a heat that floods my skin. One hand anchors at the small of my back while the other tangles in my hair, pulling me tighter, closer, until there’s no space left between us, only the thunder of shared breath and the seismic shift of two lives fusing into one.

Sadie’s whoop shatters the moment. She’s standing next to Zeke, staring at him pointedly.

Nate's booming laugh rings out. “It's about damn time!”

The café smells of cinnamon, spruce, and the lingering scent of fried hash browns—the kind of grease that clings to flannel and triumph alike. Zeke taps a spoon against his coffee mug. “Official toast: To new fiancées, retired warlords, and poaching rings ground to dust.”

Glasses clink. Sadie slides an oversized cinnamon roll in front of me—heart-shaped, because she’s ridiculous—and kisses my cheek. “Bet you’ll name your first kid Moose.”

“Only if Caleb vetoes Lynx,” I shoot back.

Laughter ripples. Nate lifts a folder markedWildlife Protection Division. “Got offered a promotion—a permanent slot coordinating statewide anti-poaching ops.”

Wren grins, pressing her spare compass into his palm. “You’ll need this. And maybe a flare gun.”

He pockets the compass like a wedding token. “Deal. First training hike, you lead.”

Caleb’s eyebrow climbs. “No one dies on her shift, Nate.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Seeing Nate so transparently into her—Wren, my fierce, brilliant friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law—hits me somewhere warm and rare. For once, it feels like the right people are finally in the right places.

“Scout’s honor,” Nate replies, though everyone here has questionable scouting credentials.

Late evening finds us on Caleb’s snowmobile, engine thrumming like a heartbeat beneath us as we climb the darkening spine of Talon Ridge. He rides in front, broad back shielding me from the wind, while I sit behind, arms snug under his coat, fingers splayed over the steady drum of his heart. The bite of cold air scours our cheeks, the scent of pine sharp in every breath. Below, the valley sprawls quiet and endless, each treetop frosted silver and glinting beneath the slow rise of the moon.

At the summit, he kills the engine. Silence opens around us—vast and reverent, like the hush before a sacred vow. We step off, snow whispering beneath our boots, brittle and dry in the freezing air. The wind cuts across my cheek like a blade of ice, stinging sharply. The air is so cold it tastes of iron and ozone, like breathing in the mountain's breath itself.

Then—motion above: ribbons of green shimmer across the sky, rippling like wind through tall grass before bleeding into violet, then pulsing with electric-white brilliance. The aurora stretches like a living crown over the valley Caleb’s sworn to protect, dancing with ghost-light and cosmic fire. My chest swells, tight with wonder and awe, the beauty of it crashing into me like a wave I never saw coming.

He slides an arm around my shoulders, tugging me close against the steady wall of his body. The warmth of his side seeps into me, chasing away the sting of wind on my cheeks. Steam rises from our mingled breath, curling upward like smoke signals dissolving into the aurora overhead—fleeting, intimate, ours.

I rest my head against him, ring glinting Northern-Light green. “We made it,” I whisper.

Caleb kisses the top of my hair, voice a low vow. “We’ll make everything that comes next.”

Below us, Glacier Hollow glimmers—tiny, safe. The sight tugs something deep inside me loose. For a year, every horizon held dread. Now, it looks like promise. I flash on Chris's lopsided grin, the way he used to call me "professor" when I rattled off animal facts, and the way he always knew when I needed a laugh. He's still out there, somewhere. And I’ll find him. Not because I owe it to the past—but because I finally believe in a future. Behind us, Nate and Wren begin charting their own course down the mountain. Ahead of us, endless sky. I take a slow breath, letting the cold carve away what’s past and fill my lungs with what could be.

Whatever tomorrow brings, the mountain finally feels like home.