Page 24 of Lone Wolf (Red Rivals)

SIX MONTHS LATER

The war room of Elysium looks different tonight. The overhead lights have been dimmed, and the space is lit instead by the glow of string lights someone (Aurora, probably) draped liberally along the walls. The massive table where life-or-death decisions are usually made is now covered with platters of food and bottles of champagne. Music plays from hidden speakers—something with a good beat, not too intrusive. It’s still the war room, but tonight it feels almost…normal. Like a place where people celebrate instead of plan assassinations.

And tonight we’re celebrating our initiation into the Styx Syndicate.

“Never thought I’d see Hadria approve party decorations in here,” I say, accepting the glass of champagne Ariadne hands me.

“She didn’t,” Ariadne replies with that slight quirk of her lips that I’ve come to recognize as her smile. “Aurora did. Hadria just... didn’t veto it.”

I clink my glass against hers. “To us,” I say. “Full members of the Styx Syndicate. Who would’ve thought?”

“Not me,” she admits.

I watch her as she takes a sip, still marveling at the changes I see in her. She’s still Ariadne—still carries herself with that deadly grace, still scans every room automatically for threats. But there’s a softness to her now that wasn’t there before. The ice hasn’t melted away completely, but it lets glimpses of warmth shine through.

Across the room, I spot Mrs. Graves chatting with Scarlett and Lyssa. Ariadne’s mom is wearing a pretty blue dress instead of her usual black, and she looks years younger when she laughs at something Lyssa says.

Ariadne follows my gaze, her expression softening. “Mom looks really nice tonight,” she says. “She told me this morning she’s never been happier.”

The casual way she says “Mom” these days makes my heart expand. That transition wasn’t easy—it took months of careful steps, therapy sessions, and tearful conversations. But seeing them together now, anyone would find it hard to believe they spent years apart.

“Congratulations, bitches!” Vanessa’s voice breaks into my thoughts as she approaches, arms outstretched for a hug that I return enthusiastically. She turns to Ariadne next, who actually allows a brief embrace.

“Back at you,” Ariadne says. “I hear you nailed your final assessment. Lyssa mentioned something about your headshot score.”

Vanessa beams with pride. “Ninety-three percent. Not quite your level, but I’m working on it.”

“You’ll get there,” Ariadne tells her, and I can tell she means it.

Enzo and Matty B join us, both holding plates piled high with food. Enzo looks good—he’s grown up a lot since our early training days. Less swagger, more substance.

“The woman of the hour,” Enzo says, raising his drink toward Ariadne. “Still can’t believe that flip move you pulled during the final physical. I swear you were floating.”

“Years of practice,” Ariadne replies.

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” he says.

“Anytime you need to brush up on your skills, Rittoli,” Ariadne says, “I’d be happy to knock you on your ass again for old times’ sake.”

Everyone laughs, including Enzo, who clutches his heart dramatically. “Wounded! But fair.” Elijah and Zach wander over, completing the members of our recruit cohort who have been admitted to full membership. Some of the others quit partway through, and a few more have been told they need another six months before they try again. So it strikes me then, looking at all of us together, how far we’ve come, and in such a short time. From wary strangers to snippy rivals to a tight-knit team who’d die for each other.

“The gang’s all here,” Zach says, raising his glass. “To survival.”

“To survival,” we echo.

Ricky and Mario appear, the latter carrying a tray of shots.

“Special occasion calls for special drinks,” Mario announces, distributing the small glasses. “Lyssa’s private stock. Don’t tell her I took it.”

“Too late,” comes Lyssa’s dry voice as she materializes behind him. “But I’ll let it slide. Tonight’s worth celebrating.”

I take the shot—it burns pleasantly down my throat, warming me from the inside out.

“More reasons to celebrate, too,” Ricky says. “We got confirmation from Johnny the Gentleman today. The last Mancini safe house in Illinois has closed down. Their entire state network is officially dismantled.”

A cheer goes up from our little group.

“And eighty-seven women freed,” Mario adds proudly.

I feel a swell of satisfaction at those numbers. Eighty-seven women who will get a chance at a new life, just like Mari. It won’t erase what happened to them, but they’ll have the opportunity to heal, to build something new.

“The de Luca network has already placed most of them,” Lyssa adds. “Jobs, housing, therapy—whatever they need.”

“And the Mancinis?” I ask.

“Running scared,” Lyssa says with obvious satisfaction. “They’re pulling back entirely, heading back to New York. Word on the street is they think we’ve got some kind of personal vendetta.”

“Imagine that,” Ariadne murmurs, her hand finding mine and squeezing gently.

Mrs. Graves joins our circle, carrying a plate of food. “Sarah, darling, you need to eat something,” she says, offering the plate to Ariadne. “You barely touched breakfast this morning.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Ariadne says, accepting the plate. “I was a little nervous about today.”

“You had nothing to be nervous about,” her mother says with obvious pride, patting Ariadne’s cheek in a gesture so maternal it makes my heart ache. “You were magnificent, as always.”

I watch them together, marveling at the transformation in their relationship. After that day in the garage with Katy, something broke open in Ariadne. The walls she’d built around herself began to crumble, and Mrs. Graves—with infinite patience and unconditional love—was there to welcome her daughter home. Now they have dinner together twice a week, and I’ve even seen them laughing together over old photos and shared memories.

And Mr. Fluffikins now rests on Ariadne’s bed in her dorm room—though soon we’ll be able to move into the mansion, and I guess he’ll migrate with her. I hope we’ll get rooms near each other. Maybe with an adjoining door…or maybe we should just give in and get a room together, based on how often we end up in each other’s beds these days.

Ariadne catches me smirking and raises an eyebrow. I just grin and shake my head.

The party continues around us. At some point, Aurora joins us, bringing Hadria with her. The Boss is as intimidating as ever in her tailored black suit, but even she seems relaxed tonight, one arm draped casually around Aurora’s waist.

“Santiago. Graves,” Hadria acknowledges us with a nod. “Impressive work these past months.”

“Thank you,” we say almost in unison.

“I hear Mari is settling in well at Mrs. Graves’s cottage,” Aurora says to me.

I nod, warmth spreading through me at the mention of my sister. “She is. Mrs. G has been good for her—and I think Mari really loves it here at Elysium.”

“And the therapy is helping?” Aurora asks.

“It seems to be. She told me Dr. Khatri says she’s making progress.” I smile, thinking of Mari’s determined face during our morning walks around the grounds. “She wants to join Johnny de Luca’s network eventually, help other women who’ve been trafficked. But for now, she’s focusing on her own healing.”

“And on reconnecting with you,” Ariadne adds softly.

“That too,” I agree. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Aurora says sincerely. “Everyone deserves a second chance at family.”

Hadria clears her throat. “Santiago, before I forget—Lyssa mentioned you had some thoughts about operations beyond Chicago.”

“Yes,” I say, standing a little straighter. Even as a full member, Hadria still intimidates me. “I’ve been researching trafficking networks in Detroit and Indianapolis. They’re not as established as the Mancinis were, but they’re growing. If we hit them now?—”

“Bring the data to the planning meeting on Tuesday,” Hadria says. “We’ll discuss it.”

“I will,” I promise, trying not to sound too eager.

“And Graves,” Hadria continues, “Lyssa tells me you’ve shown interest in helping train the recruits.”

Ariadne nods. “I have. If you’ll approve it.”

I hold my breath, because this is something I know Ariadne really wants—but has been convinced would never happen, because of her past.

“Consider it approved.” Hadria’s tone is businesslike, but I detect a hint of approval. “Your experience makes you uniquely qualified.”

“Th-thank you,” Ariadne says in surprise, and I know what this means to her—trust, purpose, recognition of her skills beyond killing. And a way to make up for some of the things she’s done.

Hadria is pulled away by Ricky to discuss something, but Aurora lingers.

“I have something for you both,” she says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out two small boxes. “These are something new we’re trying out, and I wanted to be the one to give them to each new member personally.”

She hands us each a small black box. Inside each is a simple silver pendant—the three-headed Cerberus that guards the entrance to the war room, the symbol of the Styx Syndicate.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, genuinely touched.

Ariadne stares at her pendant with an unreadable expression. When she finally looks up, her eyes are suspiciously bright. “Thank you,” she says simply.

Aurora just smiles and moves away, leaving us to our moment.

Ariadne slips her pendant around her neck, then helps me with mine. Her fingers are warm against the back of my neck, and I catch her hand before she can pull away.

“Want to get some air?” I ask.

She nods, and we slip away from the party, across to one of the rooms that has a balcony overlooking Aurora’s night garden. The flowers are in full bloom, their sweet scent drifting up to us on the cool evening breeze. The sky above is clear, stars scattered like diamonds against black velvet.

“Think they’ll miss us if we stay out here a while?” I ask, leaning against the railing.

“Let them miss us,” Ariadne says, coming to stand beside me. Our shoulders touch, a casual intimacy that still makes my heart flutter.

We stand in comfortable silence for a while, watching the garden below. Ariadne’s hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining automatically.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says at last.

“Dangerous,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes but continues. “About Ariadne. And the myth.”

“The one with the labyrinth and the string?” I remember looking it up when I first heard her name.

She nods. “Ariadne gave Theseus a thread so he could find his way out of the maze after killing the Minotaur.” She pauses, gathering her thoughts. “I used to think Grandmother named me that because she saw me as a guide for her other girls— the one who would lead them through the maze of her twisted training.”

I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue.

“But when I got to Elysium I felt more like Theseus—lost in the maze, fighting my own monsters.” Her voice softens. “And you were the one holding the thread at the other end, even when I didn’t want to see it.”

My heart swells at her words. “You found your way out,” I say quietly.

“Because of you.” She turns to face me fully, her eyes serious in the moonlight. “You never gave up on me, even when I pushed you away. You kept holding the thread.”

I reach up to touch her face, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. “And I always will.”

She takes a deep breath, looking suddenly vulnerable. “Sunny, I need to tell you something.”

“Anything,” I say, my pulse quickening.

Her eyes lock with mine, intense and searching. “I love you.”

I feel like the world has stopped spinning. I’ve been waiting to hear those words, hoping for them, but never pushing. Because I know what those words cost her—how many times Grandmother punished her for showing any emotion at all, how deeply she fears attachment. I’ve felt the same confession building in my own chest for months now, but I’ve held them back, afraid they would scare her away.

“I know I’ve taken too long to say it,” she continues, her voice low and earnest. “I’ve been afraid. Terrified, actually. After Grandmother…after everything , I didn’t think I was capable of this. Of feeling this much for someone. And then when I started to realize what was happening with you, I was even more scared.”

“Why?” I ask softly, though I think I know.

“Because loving someone makes you vulnerable. It gives them power over you.” Her hands tighten on mine. “And I spent so much of my life trying to ensure that no one ever had that kind of power over me again.”

I nod, understanding completely. “I know. That’s why I haven’t said it either, even though I’ve felt it for a long time. I didn’t want to push you before you were ready.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Yeah,” I tell her with a smile. “I knew it had to be your choice. Your timeline.”

“And now?”

“And now I can finally tell you that I love you too. With everything I am.”

Something breaks open in her expression—wonder and hope and a vulnerability so raw it takes my breath away. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to deserve love,” I tell her, repeating something Dr. Khatri has told us both in our sessions. “It’s not earned. It just is.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “I love you,” she says again, like she’s trying the words out, finding that they fit. “I love you, Sunny Santiago.”

I laugh, joy bubbling up inside me like champagne. “I love you too, Sarah Graves, or Ariadne, or Theseus, or whoever you want to be—because whoever that is, I’ll love you still. I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”

“We can be scared together,” she says, and then she pulls me close, her mouth finding mine. Her lips are soft, her hands gentle as they frame my face. I pour everything I feel into the kiss—all the love I’ve been holding back, all the promises I want to make.

When we finally break apart, both a little breathless, I rest my forehead against hers. “And you know what? We’ll pull that thread all the way out of the labyrinth and use it to bind us together. Forever.”

Ariadne’s eyes soften, and she kisses me again—deeper this time, with a hunger that makes my knees weak. Her arms wrap around my waist, holding me like she never wants to let go.

“Forever,” she echoes when we finally break apart. “I like the sound of that.”

We stay on the balcony a while longer, talking softly about everything and nothing. Plans for the future, memories of the past three months, silly jokes that make Ariadne’s rare laugh bubble up.

“We should probably go back inside,” I say eventually. “It is supposed to be our party, after all.”

“I suppose,” she sighs dramatically, making me grin.

“Hey,” I say, struck by a thought. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

“Nothing special. Why?”

“I was thinking maybe we could sleep in, then I could make breakfast.”

Ariadne raises an eyebrow. “Or I could make waffles,” she suggests with unexpected enthusiasm.

I bite back a smile. Ever since I taught her how to use the waffle iron at the breakfast buffet a few weeks ago, she’s been obsessed. Every Sunday morning, without fail: waffles with different toppings, each attempt more elaborate than the last. It’s her way of reclaiming something from her past, I think—the girl who loved pink and sparkles and sweetness, before Grandmother tried to crush those parts of her.

“Deal,” I agree, squeezing her hand. “Waffles it is.”

She smiles—a real, full smile that still takes my breath away when I see it—and pulls me back toward the party. As we rejoin our friends, our new family, I’m struck by how far we’ve all come.

We still have our demons. We all still wake up from nightmares sometimes, still carry the weight of our pasts. But we’re not alone anymore. We have each other. We have family —the one we’ve chosen, the one we’ve found, the one we’re building together day by day.

And that, I think as I look around at my brothers and sisters in the Styx Syndicate, is the most powerful thing of all.

Later that night, after the celebration winds down, Ariadne walks me back to my dorm room. But the room suddenly feels too small for us, too temporary for what we’ve become.

“You know,” I say as we linger outside my door, “full members get rooms in the mansion.” Of course she knows. But I’m feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden.

Ariadne nods. “Lyssa mentioned we’d be relocating next week.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “What would you think about us sharing a space? Together?”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, and for a moment I worry I’ve pushed too far, too fast. But then I see it—that soft warmth in her eyes that she reserves only for me.

“You want to live together?” she asks, her voice careful but hopeful.

“I do,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “I love falling asleep next to you, and I love waking up with you even more. And honestly, I’m tired of sneaking between our rooms or trying to be quiet when your neighbors are around.”

Ariadne laughs softly. “You are terrible at being quiet.”

“That’s your fault,” I counter, grinning.

She studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s do it,” she says, more firmly this time. “Let’s share quarters.”

My heart soars. Another step forward, another piece of our life together falling into place. “Really?”

Instead of answering, she leans in and kisses me—slow and deep and full of promise. When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine.

“I love you,” she whispers. “And I want to build a home with you.”

“Even though I’ll mess up your perfect organization system?”

“Even though,” she agrees with a smile.

I look up at her—this incredible woman who’s fought through so much darkness to find her way to me. Our story isn’t perfect. We both carry scars that will never fully heal. But we’ve found something rare and precious in each other—a love that strengthens and heals.

“This is our beginning,” I tell her, feeling the promise of our future stretching before us. “We have so much more of our story to write.”

“Together,” she says, and in that single word is everything I’ve ever wanted—commitment, partnership, love.

“Together,” I echo, rising on my tiptoes to seal the promise with a kiss. From lost girls to found family. From broken weapons to whole women. From rivals to something real, something neither of us thought we’d ever have.

And whatever comes next—danger, adventure, missions in far-off cities—we’ll face it side by side, bound by a thread that neither time nor distance can break.