Chapter 26: EPILOGUE: THREE YEARS LATER
1090words
I stood on the balcony of our home, watching the sun set over the territory we'd built together. In the distance, I could see the lights of the expanded Academy, where Noah was currently serving as Dean of Student Affairs. The co-educational program had been so successful that three other academies had adopted similar policies. Closer to home, the pack houses were warm with families gathering for dinner.
The sound of splashing and laughter drifted up from the garden below, where our three-year-old twins were "helping" Damon water the tomato plants. Which mostly meant they were soaking themselves and each other while he tried to maintain some semblance of actual gardening.
"Mom!" Emma's voice carried clearly up to the balcony. Even at three, she had inherited the Blackwood talent for projecting authority. "Ethan's being mean!"
"Am not!" came Ethan's indignant reply. "I'm being helpful!"
"You splashed me on purpose!"
"It was an accident!"
I leaned over the railing. "Both of you, stop arguing and help Daddy with the plants, or no story time before bed."
The threat of losing story time was apparently serious enough to restore peace. I watched as they returned to their "gardening," now cooperating in their mission to turn the vegetable patch into a small lake.
"Effective parenting," came a familiar voice behind me.
I turned to find Damon climbing up from the garden, his shirt damp with evidence of his battle with two determined toddlers and a garden hose.
"The twins wore you out already?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"They're plotting something. I can feel it." He pulled me closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ethan asked me seventeen questions about the sprinkler system this morning, and Emma keeps measuring things with her toy ruler."
"They get their strategic minds from both sides of the family," I pointed out. "We're doomed."
"Completely doomed," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "How was your day? Council meeting go well?"
"Better than expected. The vote on the new inter-pack cooperation policies passed unanimously." I smiled against his shoulder. "Even the most traditional Alphas are starting to see the benefits of our approach."
"Revolution by example," Damon said proudly. "I told you it would work."
Three years of joint leadership had transformed not just our pack, but the entire supernatural political landscape. Other young Alphas had begun implementing similar reforms, and the Council of Alphas now included more female voices than ever before.
"Speaking of revolution," I said, "Noah called earlier. They've been invited to speak at the Global Pack Leadership Summit."
"About time. Their diplomatic initiatives have been incredible."
We stood in comfortable silence, watching our world settle into evening peace. The territory was thriving, our pack members were happy, and the changes we'd fought for had rippled out far beyond our borders.
"Dad!" Ethan's voice interrupted our quiet moment. He stood in the garden below, looking up at us with the serious expression he wore when asking important questions. "How old is Mom this year?"
Damon and I exchanged a look. These were the moments that made all the political maneuvering and public scrutiny worth it.
"She's the same age as you," Damon called back.
"Why's that?" Emma piped up, always ready to challenge any answer that didn't make immediate sense to her three-year-old logic.
"Because Mom only became a mom when she had you," Damon explained, his voice warm with the kind of love that still made my heart skip beats.
The twins pondered this wisdom for exactly three seconds before becoming distracted by a butterfly that had the audacity to land on their tomato plants.
"Think they understood that?" I asked.
"Give them a few years. They'll figure it out." Damon's smile was soft as he watched our children chase the butterfly around the garden. "Besides, we've got plenty of time to explain all the important things. Like why Mommy used to pretend to be a boy, and why Daddy once got stuck in a towel."
"Are you ever going to let me live that story down?"
"Never," I said cheerfully. "It's going in their baby books. And the pack histories. And possibly on our anniversary cake next year."
"You're terrible," he said, but he was laughing.
"I'm perfect for you," I corrected.
"That you are, my revolutionary princess."
As if summoned by some cosmic sense of timing, both twins appeared on the balcony, somehow having managed to climb the trellis while we weren't looking. They were muddy, soaking wet, and beaming with pride at their accomplishment.
"We're pirates!" Emma announced, striking a dramatic pose that sent water droplets flying.
"Pirate wolves!" Ethan added, because apparently regular pirates weren't exciting enough.
"And what do pirate wolves do?" I asked, playing along.
"They find treasure!" they said in unison.
"And what treasure did you find today?"
Emma held up a handful of cherry tomatoes. "Food treasure!"
"The best kind," Damon agreed solemnly. "Though next time, maybe warn us before you scale the balcony? Daddy's heart isn't as young as it used to be."
"Daddy's old," Ethan said with the brutal honesty of a three-year-old.
"Thanks, kid. Really needed that reminder."
As we herded the children inside for bath time, I caught sight of our reflection in the glass doors—Damon carrying a giggling Emma while Ethan held my hand, all of us laughing and dripping garden water on the hardwood floors.
"Any regrets?" Damon asked softly.
I looked at our beautiful chaos of a life. The children we were raising to be strong and kind and free to choose their own paths. The pack we led together as equals. The world we were slowly but surely making better.
"Just one," I said, making him pause in mock concern.
"What?"
"I regret that it took so long for me to walk in on you naked. If I'd done it sooner, we could have had three more years of this happiness."
His laughter echoed through our home, mixing with the sound of running water and children's voices, creating the symphony of our impossible, beautiful life.
"Aria Blackwood," he said, pulling me close despite the protests of a wet, squirming toddler between us, "you're going to be the death of me."
"Probably," I agreed. "But what a way to go."
And as we headed upstairs to wrangle two very dirty pirate wolves into a bathtub, I knew that this—this messy, chaotic, perfect life—was worth every risk we'd taken to get here.
Together, just like we'd promised.
Just like we always would be.
