Page 27 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Trick-or-Treat
“So, you’ve given up immortality for me?” I rasp.
“Easiest decision I ever made. I’ve lived for centuries already, Eden. Without love, it has no meaning?—”
He pauses, cups my cheek. Kisses my lips softly.
“But we are one now. Nothing can change that. They will come for you because they cannot kill me. Death penalty orders can only be given by the homeworld. But they will hunt you to get to me, force my hand, and make me retaliate. Then, they can kill me in self-defense. We’ll be hunted, Eden, and I’m so sorry for that.”
“I know,” I whisper. “They already came to my apartment. So did men wearing all black.”
He stiffens next to me. “Both bad.”
“The humans, too?”
He nods, frowning. “Scientific study, experimentation, reverse engineering, dissection. No good.”
A shiver runs the length of my spine. “Then, what do we do? It sounds like the world’s against us.”
His hand brushes my cheek. “We ally with the enemy team.” But I can feel reservation brush against my mind. Like there’s so much he’s not telling me.
“Wildbloods, Sentinel apostates and exiles. There are others like us. We can form alliances. Fight back. Make a stand for Earth and each other.”
“But will they accept us?” I ask, still feeling the vague hesitation on the edge of his thoughts.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But a builder is always useful. They’ll need someone who can free more constructs.”
My voice catches in my throat. “You mean like the insects?”
He chuckles, kissing my cheek. “Insectile drones. They come in handy. But that’s just a tiny example of my capabilities.”
Above us, Rook clicks once, a bright, deliberate sound—confirmation, maybe a vow.
Everett turns to me, eyes glowing soft gold. “Whatever comes, we face it together.”
“Together,” I echo.
When he kisses me, it’s not the fierce, desperate pull of last night. It’s gentle, anchoring, a promise made through skin and resonance. The air hums around us, not from fear or static, but from harmony.
I close my eyes and let the sound sink in. For the first time in my life, the world doesn’t feel separate from me. It feels alive. It feels connected.
The forest hums, Mother Tree breathing slow and steady—beneath us, around us, over us—as if marking our pulse as her own.
Somewhere in the forest, Rook’s wings buzz a final note before fading into the canopy, and I know whatever’s coming, we’re not hiding anymore. We’re becoming.
Epilogue
EDEN
The morning smells like cinnamon and pine sap. Steam curls from my mug as I step out onto the porch, apron still dusted with flour. Rook glints in the sunlight above the trees, wings whirring softly as he loops the ridge.
The new cabin glimmers faintly at the edge of vision—half shadow, half light. Everett says the Tree’s field cloaks us, bending signal and sight, hiding the cabin from any Sentinel scan. To the outside world, it’s just forest and rock. To us, it’s home.
For weeks, we’ve stayed inside the perimeter, safe under the Tree’s resonance. Everett rebuilt the solar array and sent a long-range appeal to the homeworld. An official challenge, he called it. Until they answer, Command can’t touch him.
“Temporary truce,” he says. I call it borrowed peace.
I’ve been running the bakery from here, fielding calls from my staff. I can hear their curiosity through every polite question—about mysudden vacation, about the strange mess left behind in my apartment after the morning escape.
So many loose ends to tie up. So much to explain.But how do you explain the unexplainable?