Serena

T he café in town was quiet, tucked between a crumbling bookshop and an old apothecary that still smelled faintly of crushed herbs and rain.

Warm sunlight filtered through the frosted glass windows, casting honeyed shadows across the mismatched tables and chairs.

I curled my hands around the chipped ceramic mug in front of me, inhaling the scent of fresh coffee and something cinnamon-laced that made my stomach growl.

Lila dropped into the seat across from me, her blonde braid wind-tangled, cheeks flushed from the mountain chill. She tossed her coat over the back of the chair like she owned the place and stole a sip from my cup before sliding her own across the table.

“Well,” she said with a grin that had just enough bite in it, “you look like someone who’s been thoroughly ruined by a certain Alpha.”

I rolled my eyes, but the heat in my cheeks gave me away. “You promised not to lead with that.”

“Please. I promised not to interrupt if I caught you in the act. This is fair game.”

I laughed, low and real, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, it didn’t feel forced. There was no edge to the joy, no guilt or shame riding on its heels. Just warmth. Just here. Just this.

Lila leaned back, sipping her drink. “You’re different,” she said after a moment. “Good different. Lighter. Like you finally stopped carrying everyone else’s shit.”

I traced a finger along the rim of my cup, then glanced down at the pendant resting against my chest. The carved wooden wolf—rough, imperfect, honest—was still warm from where it had laid against my skin.

“Stormvale’s changing too,” I said. “It’s not just me.”

Lila nodded. “The compound actually feels… alive. Like it’s breathing.”

“It is,” I said softly. “It doesn’t belong to just the bloodlines anymore. Not to Alaric’s idea of legacy or Ewan’s thirst for control. It belongs to those of us who choose it. Who fight for it.”

Lila stirred her drink, then shot me a look over the rim of her mug. “So… are we just going to pretend your father never happened?”

I exhaled, letting my fingers toy with the wooden pendant around my neck.

“He looked at me like I was her ghost, Lila. Then left without a word the night we shattered the stones. I heard whispers he’s wandering the borderlands. Maybe searching for redemption. I don’t know. And I’m not sure I care.”

Lila raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“That’s enough.” I didn’t need revenge. I’d already won.

“So, you’re really one of them now?” Lila asked. Not teasing, not doubting—just asking.

“I think,” I said slowly, “I always was. I just didn’t know where I fit until now.”

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Well, now I do have to stay. Someone’s gotta keep the future Luna from working herself to death.”

I grinned. “You just want to keep raiding Tristan’s liquor stash.”

“Obviously.”

“And besides,” she added with a sly smile, “someone’s got to keep an eye on those witches from Onyx Hollow. I’m thinking of setting up shop—maybe a little blend of charmwork and mischief.”

The laughter between us faded into something quieter, something more settled. The air carried a faint scent of mountain pine through the cracked window. This place—this life—wasn’t what I’d imagined, but maybe that was the point. Fate had given me fire and fury, but I had chosen this peace.

The courtyard shimmered under the blush of dusk as Lila and I stepped through the compound gates.

The mountain was quieter now. Not empty.

Just waiting. Listening. Lanterns flickered along the stone pathways, their soft golden light casting gentle halos over the gathering wolves.

I let the weight of the day wash over me—the quiet conversations, the scent of shared meals, the distant hum of something sacred and rebuilding.

It wasn’t the kind of power my father had chased. It was steadier. Real.

Tristan stood near the central hearth, a map spread across the stone table in front of him, a group of wolves gathered in quiet discussion.

He looked up as I approached, his expression shifting instantly—command softening into something warmer.

The way his eyes tracked me felt like gravity. Like home.

He held out a hand without breaking conversation. I took it.

The wolves looked at me differently now.

Not like a curse. Not like a threat. But something else.

Something earned. My father ruled with fear.

I’d lead with something stronger—truth. It had only been a month since we broke the curse, but it already felt like we were making progress.

I offered a quiet suggestion about patrol shifts—nothing radical—but Renna, the packs’ new beta nodded, adjusting the strategy without hesitation. No one questioned it.

When the council meeting ended, Tristan pulled me aside into the open air, the last remnants of light catching in his hair like wildfire. The mountain rose behind us—unchained now, unburdened. Its heartbeat no longer ruled us. But it still hummed beneath my skin like a memory.

“Think they’ll ever stop looking at us like we might burn the place down?” I asked, my voice low.

Tristan smiled, thumb brushing over my pulse. “We didn’t burn it down. We remade it.”

I leaned into him, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Feels like we’re finally breathing.”

“We are.” He paused, then pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “You know they listen to you now. Not because of your mark. Not because of me. Because of who you are.”

He reached for my hand, folding it into his. “You became the heart of this pack, Serena. And you became the heart of me. I love you. I’ll love you until this mountain crumbles into dust.”

I didn’t reply right away. I just let it settle inside me—the truth of it, the weight, the freedom. I had once been the girl who ran from her name, her fate, her pack. Now I stood beside my mate, my Alpha, and claimed a future we built with our own hands.

“You broke down every wall I had,” I said, “and I didn’t even see it happening. I love you, Tristan. More than the fate they tried to chain us to.”

“Then we rewrite fate. Together,” he replied.

Stormvale wasn’t just his anymore.

It was ours .

The mountain pulsed beneath my feet—no longer a tether, but a promise. I looked out at our home and whispered the word aloud, just to hear it.

“Home.”