20. Epilogue

Crisp autumn air signals the changes that will soon envelop the Northern Quarter. Green now, all these trees will soon be ablaze with color. Hard to believe a full year has passed since the events of the Gala and the courtroom drama that followed. Now, we need to put my father—and the past--to rest.

I spent as much of the past year as I could here, with Sophia, becoming reacquainted with our ancestral lands. We had some amazing nights—and days—together in our modest cabin. I can”t help but marvel at this woman, my fated mate, with her hand over her stomach, already guarding the life within.

I want my son or daughter to truly understand the Faulkner legacy, not as one of money, title, guarded secrets and glass-clad Ravencourt towers, but as one rooted in the land and in a long tradition of valuing family above all else.

Irene, radiant and also pregnant, shares a look with her husband that speaks volumes of shared sorrow and resilience. They stand close, united in their own silent pact to honor the past while nurturing the future. Our children will grow up together, spending summers here. It gives me great comfort to know that the Faulkner and the Larken children need not compete for wealth, status, or love.

Next to Sophia is her brother Michael. They adore each other, in much the same way Irene and I have always had a special bond. Beside me, Gerard Kray”s presence is another reminder of how our lives are intertwined. His features are unreadable, but there”s a hint of reverence in his stance that suggests his attendance is more than obligatory. Once my boardroom opponent, Kray proved himself indispensable in our legal battle to exonerate Irene, full of information about how Irene, spellbound by the Covenant and our brother, had been duped. For a man who lacks subtlety and oozes self-concern, he turned out to be a capable champion for the Faulkners.

I see now that it was done in my mother”s memory. Not exactly a confession of his love for her, but as close as Kray could get, I think.

”We come full circle,” he remarks, glancing at the ironwood sapling cradled in my arms. ”I remember standing here a decade ago, when Marian”s tree was planted.”

I nod, acknowledging the memory. ”Much has changed since then,” I reply, feeling the weight of history in my hands. ”Change is good.”

Sophia squeezes my shoulder as I kneel before the small mound where my father”s ashes have been placed. The earth feels cool and dense under my fingers as I begin to dig a hole for the sapling. Ironwood is resilient and enduring—qualities I hope to emulate as head of the Faulkner family.

As I plant the sapling, I sense my mother”s spirit in the whispering leaves of her own tree nearby—a decade older and stronger. I won”t go as far as Irene might have in the past and say she is watching us but I have to admit, keeping her life and goals in mind helps me find direction, too.

”This tree will grow strong,” I say aloud, patting down the soil. ”Just like our family...just like our children will.” I glance at Sophia and Irene, who both stare up into the sky where the tree’s tall crown will shelter the animals and plants beneath it.

Kray steps forward, his silhouette sharp against the softening sky. The man”s always been an enigma wrapped in tailored suits and political gamesmanship but at least, I know him a little better as an ally.

”Marian loved this place,” he begins. His voice doesn”t have its usual edge of iron and ambition; it”s tempered, almost gentle. ”She”d bring me here, long before... well, before your father was ever in the picture.

The revelation doesn”t shock me as much as it should—of course my mother had a life before she became a Faulkner matriarch, filled with secrets and passions. It”s sad that she gave up love for Kray for a life of prestige with my father, but we all make choices and learn to live with them.

Kray crouches down, his hand brushing over the wildflowers that have made their home among the grasses. ”She told me once that this land was alive with memories and dreams. Said it was sacred.” He looks up at me, his dark eyes clear and unguarded for once.

I can”t help but let out a dry chuckle. ”She always told us the same thing.”

He smirks at that, standing to face me fully. ”Marian... she had a way of making you believe in more than profit margins and power plays. She was taken from us all too soon.”

”In her honor,” Kray continues, ”and because I believe some things are worth more than money or influence, I”m relinquishing my claim to the Northern Quarter.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope, thick with legal documents, no doubt.

My hand hesitates before taking it. This is Kray we”re talking about—there”s always another angle.

”Consider it a gift,” he says, reading my hesitation like a book. ”Or a debt paid. Whichever sits better with you.”

I take the envelope and tuck it under my arm. ”Thank you,” I say after a moment because there”s nothing else to say.

Kray nods once before turning to leave, his footsteps crunching softly on the path back to civilization.

I watch him go, feeling an odd sense of camaraderie with the vampire who loved my mother’s dreams enough to give up his only remaining connection to her. It”s strange how life circles around—how even those we consider our enemies can surprise us with moments of grace.

The remaining five of us stand a moment longer, peering into the deep woods. Strange how we see each tree as an individual but have no real perception of the whole forest. Father would have had something to say about that and for one moment, I do miss him, as he was in his prime—so certain and powerful. Or maybe I miss the naive boy who wanted, right or wrong, to be just like his dad.

”We”ve all been given a second chance,” Irene says, her voice steady. ”But the Shadow Covenant is still out there, and we can”t forget that.”

I nod, feeling the solid truth in Irene”s words. ”But at least we can be certain Faulkner Enterprises will no longer be a puppet to shadowy cults or underhanded dealings. Sophia”s been overseeing the restructuring of our investments.”

Irene looks between us, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ”I am tremendously relieved that I will no longer have to handle anything having to do with the Faulkner finances!”

”Me, too, ” I laugh and give her a light brotherly elbow to the rib.

Sophia unfolds a checkered blanket with the same precision she applies to her work in the c-suite at Faulkner Enterprises. The autumn breeze carries the scent of pine and earth, mingling with the aroma of our simple picnic fare. I sprawl on the blanket, propped on my elbows, watching her move. Even with the added curve of her pregnancy, she”s grace and efficiency incarnate.

”I”ve been going over the transition documents for my maternity leave,” she says, handing me a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. ”Michael made the lunch, by the way.”

I take a bite, the crunch of fresh lettuce and the tang of mustard, tingling on my tongue. ”Michael, you”re a wizard with sandwiches.”

He smiles, ever modest. ”Purely human magic. Sometimes it”s the little things that make people the happiest.”

Sophia settles down with her own meal and looks at me, seriousness in her eyes. ”I want to make sure everything runs smoothly while I”m away.”

”Sophia, if there”s one thing I”m not worried about, it”s your organizational skills.” I grin at her over the sandwich. ”Faulkner Enterprises couldn”t be in better hands.”

She sits beside me, a soft smile curving her lips. ”I”ll still be gone for a while, Ollie. You”ll have to manage without my charming presence in the boardroom.”

”Manage? Sure,” I concede with a playful roll of my eyes. ”But it won”t be nearly as entertaining. And I still believe you’ll be back, our sweet child at your breast. You know you won’t be able to stay away for too long.”

Her expression turns thoughtful as she watches a pair of butterflies dance above the wildflowers. ”When I come back, I want to focus more on community work through the Moonlight Foundation,” she says earnestly. ”Especially with at-risk youth. Michael has some ideas—having had firsthand experience.”

I nod in agreement. ”Welcome aboard, Michael.”

Irene, who had been unpacking a basket of fruits, pauses to chime in. ”You know, Jason is doing some mentoring in prison, too. With younger people in some of our intervention programs.” Her voice is soft, almost lost to the rustling leaves around us.

Sophia tilts her head, intrigued. ”Really? I didn”t know that.”

”Yeah,” Irene continues, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the memories undoubtedly flooding back. ”He had his demons, but he wants to make things right. I”m sure he sees himself in those kids—the ones who felt lost or abandoned.”

It”s strange to think of Jason that way—a man still working his way to redemption even as he struggles with his own darkness.

Sophia reaches out, laying a gentle hand on Irene”s arm. ”That”s something worth continuing,” she says firmly.

I watch the two most important women in my life—both strong and fiercely kind—and feel a surge of pride mixed with an indefinable sense of hope.

The conversation shifts to lighter topics—plans for the each baby”s nursery, upcoming family visits—but Jason”s mentoring efforts linger in my mind. I make a commitment to tell him how much it means to me that he is committed to small acts of kindness.

And as we sit there among the echoes of past lives and futures yet written, I realize this is what it means to truly rebuild—to take the fragments left behind and create something new and hopeful out of them.

”I used to think that if I worked hard enough at the company, everything else would just fall into place,” I start, breaking the comfortable silence. ”But these past months... they”ve taught me that”s not how life works.”

Sophia lifts her head to look at me, her eyes searching mine. ”It’s the other way around, isn’t it. We can love our work But we have to work harder the things that truly matter,” she said softly. ”For our family, for our friends... for each other.”

I agree with her by pressing her lips to mine. Everything I want to say is embedded in that single kiss.

Yes, my mate. This is family. This is home.

And all things are possible, with love.