Epilogue

TRAVAN

I take another drag of my cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping on it with my boot.

Well, well, well.

Things here have certainly gotten interesting.

I tilt my face upwards and let out a sigh. The sky above is riven with gray clouds that resemble clumps of cement. The sun has almost finished its descent entirely, though a few stubborn orange streaks cut through the darkness.

I take a deep breath—exactly as my therapist instructed me to do whenever I felt stabby—and let it out. In and out. In and out. When I finally have my emotions under control, I flick my gaze towards the unconscious vampire.

Grayson Grey.

I did my research on the little shit. Vampire assassin. Cold-blooded killer. Ruthless enemy.

My kind of man.

He’ll make a fine mate for my little girl. Yes, fine indeed.

At the thought of Izzy, my blood runs cold. This time, not even my breathing exercises can keep the rage at bay.

Those witch bitches took my daughter. I watched, unable to do anything, as they knocked her unconscious, levitated her into the air, and then disappeared through the throng of trees.

I couldn’t take on twenty-seven witches.

Well, I could’ve, but there was a good chance that Izzy would’ve gotten caught in the crossfire, and I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

My daughter.

My fucking daughter.

A giddy, euphoric feeling bubbles in my chest. I don’t quite know what it is.

Happiness, perhaps? Maybe. I can’t remember the last time I was happy.

Unless you count the time I dismembered that asshole down on Canal Street in New Orleans…

A smile tugs up my lips at the memory, but I immediately squash it.

Izzy looks so much like her mother.

As always, when I think of Helena, I feel a pang in my chest—I think this particular emotion is grief, but it has been muted with time and numbed by drugs, alcohol, and death. There’s a gaping chasm where my heart used to be, if I ever truly had one to begin with.

Fuck, I miss her.

Izzy’s the only thing left of her memory.

I remember when I first saw Helena, back when I was in college. She looked ethereal, her golden hair curling around her shoulders like a halo and her eyes glimmering with mirth. At the time, she was dating some fuckwad, but I can’t remember his name. Mike, maybe? I suppose it doesn’t matter. The second she saw me, it was over between them.

I introduced her to my packmates that very day, and that night, we…well…we didn’t conceive Izzy that night, but we certainly tried.

She was the light of my world, the only good thing that tethered me to sanity.

Until she was taken from me.

I squeeze my eyelids shut at the memories that threaten to assault me. Kyle and Silas begged me to stay home, but when the police called and claimed they found her body, I had to know for sure. Had to be certain it was her.

Those images will haunt me until the day I die.

We all assumed that our unborn child was killed during the…during the incident, but that wasn’t true at all. Izzy’s alive.

My daughter’s alive.

But taken by those nasty-ass bitches—no doubt in an attempt to lure me out.

Ha. Joke’s on them.

I’ve been here the entire time.

Of course, nobody knows that. Not even my packmates and brothers.

But the second a little birdy told me they found my daughter, I had to see her. Had to protect her.

It’s almost an art form being a part of her life without her realizing it. I can’t be too suspicious, but I also can’t be too memorable. So I’ll be the man at the movie theater asking for extra butter in his popcorn. The person sitting in the booth directly behind hers when she goes out to eat. The “creepy man” insisting that she try the ribs because they’re to die for.

The monster following her home and killing the men who thought they could touch her.

A cold grin skates across my face at the memory. I relish the sound of their bones snapping, their blood pooling at my feet, their screams renting the air.

I wonder what the witches will taste like when I eat them.

I’ve been generous with them up until now, and that was due to my loyalty to Helena and her lineage. I even allowed her conniving sister to live, despite my better judgment.

But my patience has run so thin, it’s practically nonexistent.

Well, I suppose I’m going to give the witches what they want after all—me. They’re more than welcome to roll out the red carpet.

“Sleep tight, little vampire,” I coo to the unconscious man, kissing the tips of my fingers and then pressing them to his forehead. “Nighty night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

I laugh uproariously and then practically prance away.

I think it’s about time I let my fellow shifters know that I’m back.

Unlike them, I’m not a wolf.

I’m something…other.

Better, if I’m being completely honest.

And Izzy is too. She shares my DNA, after all. Fortunately for her, she hasn’t yet learned how to tap into her powers, which is why all of the assholes are still gunning for me.

But if she ever learns what she can do…

I swagger out of the forest with a wide grin on my face. Because what isn’t there to be happy about? I’m back with my family, I found my daughter, and I’m about to slaughter some witches.

I mean, I probably should feel sad about the two shifters who died, but…nah. That doesn’t really concern me. They should’ve moved out of the way of the bullet, obviously.

I whistle as I walk through the throng of shifters. Mothers and fathers are holding their children close to their chests, crying into their hair. Hale and Gerry are leaning over a dark-haired girl. A little boy trips as he attempts to run towards an older woman who’s probably his grandma.

That pinching sensation in my heart returns with a vengeance.

I never got to do any of this “parent” stuff with Izzy. Never got to teach her how to hold a blade, or how to stab a ball sac, or how to pluck out an eye, or any of the other things fathers are supposed to teach their daughters.

Maybe if I had, she would’ve murdered her sorry excuse for “mates” by now.

It doesn’t take long for people to take notice of my presence.

An older woman flinches, terror flooding her eyes, and a father attempts to hide his children behind his legs. Someone shrieks, and someone else runs in the opposite direction. The two men covering the dead bodies with sheets—I recognize one as Gregor, the head of the Council—pause what they’re doing and gape at me.

Silas and Kyle both step out of the crowd, looking a little worse for wear but alive. Silas has gone deathly still, and Kyle’s face has drained of color, turning a sickly shade of white.

Kyle swallows heavily. “Oh…fuck.”

I grin broadly and spread out my arms in either direction. “Daddy’s home, bitches.”

And the fun’s just getting started.