He pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her, both of them breathing hard in the wreckage of the harbor. “Side by side.”
“Side by side.” She pressed her face into his chest. “Always.”
Around them, the community was beginning to stir. Wolves shifting back to human, checking on their packmates. Lions regrouping, tending wounds. Bears rumbling to each other in low, exhausted voices.
And above it all, two dragons circling—Aero still crackling with residual power, Delos trailing smoke from his final dive.
Avine reached them first, Theo close behind in human form. The innkeeper looked drained—calling that much from the sea had cost her—but her smile was fierce.
“Is it over?” Junie’s voice came from somewhere behind them, thick with exhaustion. “Is it really over?”
Aero landed nearby, shifting to human with the elegant economy of long practice. His ancient gaze swept the destruction, the ash pile that had been Derren, the battered but breathing defenders.
“The Devourer is dead. Truly dead—dragon fire leaves nothing to regenerate from.” His voice carried the weight of centuries. “The threat is ended.”
Avine leaned into Theo’s side, her face pale with exhaustion, her magic finally settling back to stillness. “Never pulled that much from the deep before,” she said quietly. “The tide nearly took me with it.”
“You were magnificent.” Theo’s arm wrapped around her. “Both of you.”
Narla heard the words. Understood them, intellectually.
But it wasn’t until Wyatt pulled her closer, until she felt his heart beating steady against her own, until the claiming mark pulsed warm on her shoulder with the proof of his presence?—
It wasn’t until then that she finally believed it.
And now?—
“I’m free.” The whisper escaped before she could stop it. “I’m actually free.”
“You are.” Wyatt’s voice was rough. “And I’m never letting you go.”
She laughed—or maybe sobbed, the sound somewhere between the two. And then she kissed him, there on the destroyed dock with the community watching and the ash of her monster drifting on the morning breeze.
She was free.
And she was home.
The sun rose fullyover Haven Shores.
The battle was won. The monster was dead. The community that had rallied to fight was battered but not broken, already beginning the work of recovery and healing.
Narla stood in the harbor with her mate’s arms around her, watching the morning light spread across the water. The dragon-fire-strengthened seawall. The blessed ward-flags. The fishing boats that had survived, still bobbing.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now?” Wyatt’s chin rested on her shoulder, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “Now, we heal. Rebuild. Figure out what the rest of our lives look like.”
The rest of our lives.
Such a simple phrase. Such an impossible concept after so long living in fear.
She thought about what that might mean. Waking up without fear. Running her shop without looking over her shoulder. Watching her friends’ children grow up. Growing old with her mate.
A future. A real future. Not just endurance, but life.
She felt something shift in her chest—a burden releasing, a door opening. The last remnants of the fear she’d carried for so long, finally letting go.
“I love you.” The words came out without planning, without thought. “I love you, Wyatt Gentry. My suspicious sheriff. My overprotective panther. My mate.”
