Chapter 29 - Keira

Over the coming weeks, something happens to me. I can’t quite tell what it is, but something significant changes within me, slowly and then all at once.

I move into Ado’s suite. We don’t necessarily mean for it to happen—it just does.

We take each day slowly, or at least, we try to. The reality of the thing is messier. My life seems to be moving incredibly slowly at the same time as it’s passing through my fingers like water.

“You can always go back to your room,” he tells me every night, before we retire to bed. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“You’d swear you hardly knew me,” I laugh. We make it a habit.

Summer is coming fast now, but simultaneously, acutely, the anger that once burned so fiercely inside me cools, hardening and clearing like a sheet of molten glass. It’s as if I can suddenly see through it to the other side where once there was only the hot, opaque glow of my rage.

It’s not that the memories of my captivity all those years ago, of the auction, of being taken, of feeling utterly powerless, have disappeared. They’re still there, imprinted in the back of my mind. But they no longer hold the same power over me they once did.

I have fewer nightmares. Ado won’t say it, but he’s having less of them too.

What’s most surprising, though, is how I’ve come to accept the blood bond—not just as a fact of my life, but as something that has shaped it for the better. At first, I thought I would always resent it, that it would be this chain binding me to Ado against my will. But now, knowing all that I know, knowing all that he’d do for me… it’s not like that at all. It feels more like a fountain than a tether, releasing energy and warmth into my life more than it holds it down. I stop fighting it. I let it spread out beneath me, and I spread my arms and fall.

With this peace comes the realization that I love Ado.

I love him like coming home after a long journey: fully, completely, in a way that leaves me breathless. It’s not the sudden, overwhelming love of a storybook romance but a quiet, steady thing that’s grown over time, nurtured by every shared memory, every word unspoken but understood.

Sometimes, I still find myself looking back. I don’t know when it started—maybe it was there from the beginning, long before either of us realized it. But I know it’s real now, as real as the blood flowing through our veins.

I try to tell him all the time. I want him to know it’s real.

The pack has become my family, too, in ways I never imagined. I am added to the sacred group chat—my biggest victory since moving to Rosecreek, I joke—and welcomed with open arms as not only Ado’s mate, but a member of the pack in my own right.

The girls are thrilled. Olivia has become a sister to me; her quiet strength is something I’ve come to rely on. She’s been through so much herself, and she understands me in a way that only someone who’s walked a similar path can. We don’t always have to talk about it, but I know she’s there when I need her, and I’m there for her, too.

“You, Rosa, and I have to go for a girls’ trip sometime soon, out to the mountains,” Olivia promises me one morning over breakfast. “We’d be an unstoppable team.”

I imagine running the mountains with them, transformed, the wind in our faces, the stars blinking over this new world I get to live in. There’s nothing I’d love more.

“You need to have that purple-haired baby first,” I tease, and she bursts out laughing as if there’s a joke I’m not yet in on but will be soon.

Maisie, too, has become a close friend. Her sweet nature and gentle presence are a balm to my soul. She’s shy at times, but we’ve grown close through the quiet times, the shared cups of tea late at night when neither of us could sleep. She’s been a steady presence, always there with a kind word or a soft smile when I needed it most.

One day, she told me bashfully that I made her feel braver. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

I get along with the boys just fine. Half of the time, it’s like nothing has changed since our army days, when I was one of them, and it wasn’t up for discussion. On my first day back in the gym after our ordeal, sparring with Rafael, I manage to flip him onto the mat within the first ten seconds, and Percy hollers from the sidelines—he hoists me onto his shoulders, and I scream, cackling, as laughter ricochets around the high echoing walls like bells announcing my victory.

I’ve been on my own for so long that sometimes, early in the morning, when the world is still dark, I wake and think I’m back where I was. Did I sleep through my alarm? My sight blurry with sleep, I hear the phantom buzz of people and cars on the street outside, under my tower block.

I move, and Ado’s strong arms slide around my waist.

“Morning,” he mutters against the back of my neck, then falls asleep again.

Every day, I find myself relying more and more on the people around me. I wake up to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen, Olivia already up and working. She and Byron are house-hunting for a place in downtown Rosecreek where they can have and raise their baby, whose gender they’ve decided will stay a surprise until it’s born.

We share quiet mornings together, the silence between us comfortable and easy. We talk sometimes, but more often than not, it’s the unspoken understanding that brings us closer.

Maisie and I often spend our afternoons together, working on small projects around the pack center. We’ve started planting a garden out back, just a few herbs and vegetables to start. It’s something to keep our hands busy, something to remind us that life continues despite the chaos of ours. Occasionally, quiet, standoffish Triste joins us. The best days are when Rosa comes along, with her formidable knowledge of plants and brilliant sense of humor.

On the bad days, I resist the impulse that still lingers within me to isolate myself in my work. Instead, I push myself to rely on Ado, and he holds me steady.

It’s in the way he brings me coffee in the morning without me having to ask, or the way he touches my hand lightly as I find myself holding back tears on the floor of his bedroom, silently asking if he can come closer and hold me. It’s in the way we can sit together in silence and feel completely at ease, knowing that we don’t need words to communicate.

Aris tells me I don’t need to ask when I reach out to him to confirm that I can stay. That I can be a part of this.

“You were always part of the pack,” he tells me, and I believe him.

When I lie in bed that night, all of the luck I’ve had seems to harden around me, a protective shell. I believe I will be alright. I really, truly believe it, I realize.

I’ve come to see that I was never really angry at Ado. Not truly. I was angry at the world, at the situation, at the lack of control I had over my own life. But Ado… he’s always been my constant, even when I didn’t want to admit it. He’s the one who saved me and fought for me when I couldn’t fight for myself.

And now, I’m finally able to let go of that anger. It’s like releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a sense of relief washing over me as I let it all go. What’s left in its place is love, pure and simple.

My life doesn’t have to be a battle. I know that now. It just has to be mine.

***

A month after the final raid, when the follow-up missions are over, and there is no longer a smuggling route along our river, I stop putting off the inevitable.

I sit on the edge of my bed, turning my phone over and over in my hands. The pack center hums quietly around me, with the sound of laughter drifting up from downstairs. Everyone is already getting ready for the barbecue down by the lake, and I can hear Byron shouting instructions to Bigby about the grill.

I told them I’d come along soon, and to leave without me.

I take a deep breath, unlock my phone, and dial Director Jenkins’ number.

It rings twice before that familiar, clipped voice answers. “Jenkins speaking.”

“Hi, Director. It’s Keira.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost hear her thinking. “Keira. To what do I owe the pleasure? Any updates on the case in Rosecreek?”

I swallow, trying to steady myself. This job was all I wanted when I first applied for it—it was my lifeboat in a storm. But I don’t need a lifeboat anymore. “I’m calling to hand in my resignation.”

The words hang in the air. I brace myself for the shock, but when she speaks, I hear something like amusement in her voice.

“I had a feeling this might happen,” Jenkins tells me. “I knew you wouldn’t be behind that desk forever.”

I blink, surprised. “You knew?”

“I didn’t know,” she corrects herself. “But I suspected. Sending you to Minnesota for the Rosecreek pack’s mission… I thought it might remind you of what fieldwork was really like. The rush, the camaraderie, the… unpredictability of it all. You’re not someone who thrives on routine, Keira. You never have been. It’s why I hired you—I expected you’d become an operative for us eventually. But years went by, and…”

She’s right. I shake myself. How could I not have realized before that she knows me so well? To get to her position, you have to understand your people in that way. She reminds me of Aris.

“It’s not just the fieldwork,” I admit. “But that was a big part of it, realizing I’m still capable. But I’ve also reconnected with some people from my past—old friends from the army. And… it’s made me realize that I’ve been holding myself back. For years.”

Jenkins falls silent, hesitating. “I see. And this is what you want? You’re sure about leaving?”

“Yes,” I say, more confident this time. “I’m sure. I’m ready to start living my life more fully, more happily, Director. It’s time.”

“Well,” Jenkins says, and I can hear the professionalism re-entering her voice, though she still sounds like she finds the whole thing somewhat funny. “If you leave, the job won’t stay open for you. You understand that, don’t you? There’s no coming back if you change your mind. You leave; you’re gone for good.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I’m okay with that.”

There’s another pause. I hear a car horn sound faintly in the background. Then Jenkins speaks again, and her voice softens, just a little. “Then I suppose all that’s left is to congratulate you. It’s not easy, making a choice like this. It takes courage.”

Warmth spreads through my chest at the unexpected kindness in her words. “Thank you, Director. For everything.”

“Good luck, Keira,” she sighs. “Don’t call me again.”

“I won’t.”

I end the call and stare at the phone. I wait for it to hit me. But there’s no sadness, no regret. Only peace.

In the clear blue afternoon, Rosecreek takes on a glow like I’ve never seen. I walk into the sunlight and start east, toward the water, gliding weightlessly through the town that is now mine.

Down by the lake, through a break in the trees at the end of the path, I see the pack gathering around a smoking firepit near the water’s edge. Rosa’s setting up the picnic table with Veronica’s help, and Aris carries a cooler toward the firepit with Bigby at his side, chatting. Rafael is already down by the water, talking animatedly with Percy while he sets up the grill. The sun is dipping lower in the sky, casting a golden light over everything, making the water sparkle.

People call out greetings to me as I pass through the space. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zane sitting at the fire with his head low, peering across the flames at Maisie, who watches the water with an odd look on her face.

I spot Ado standing on the shore, silhouetted against the light. He peers over his shoulder and smiles as if he can feel me there.

I smile to myself. This is my life now. And for the first time in years, it feels right.

When I reach him, Ado wraps an arm protectively around my middle and holds me flush against his side. He noses the side of my hair, then kisses my temple.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice warm and low.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning into him. “Everything’s perfect.”

Together, we walk back to the firepit, where the rest of the pack is waiting. The sound of laughter and the smell of grilled food fill the air, and as the sun sets behind the trees, a sense of belonging settles in me and stays.