We fall asleep like that. Outside, snow blankets the cabin. Inside, we're warm and safe and alive.
15
RHYS
Six Months Later
The town hall in Whitewater Junction hasn't seen this many people since the winter festival three years ago. Every folding chair is occupied. People line the walls. The overflow crowd spills onto the front steps despite the cold. Voices echo off the exposed beams, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clink of beer bottles.
"Speech!" someone yells from the back.
"Hell no," I call back. "This is supposed to be a party, not a sentencing."
More laughter ripples through the crowd. Harlow stands beside me in a dark blue dress that makes her eyes look like winter sky, hair falling loose around her shoulders. No weapon visible, but I know she's carrying. Old habits die hard for both of us.
Wells pushes through with two loaded plates. He's filled out since taking over more of the day-to-day operations. The kind of weight that comes from regular meals instead of whatever can be microwaved at three in the morning between dispatch calls.
"Sadie insisted on catering," he says. "Drove down from Glacier Hollow this morning with Zeke. Said after everything that happened with the trafficking ring, she wasn't missing this." He grins. "Plus she doesn't trust anyone else's fried chicken."
"Tell her thanks." I take my plate. The cornbread is still warm.
Wells nods toward the corner where Sadie MacAllister stands with her husband. "She's been here since sunrise getting everything ready."
Sadie catches my eye and waves. Zeke lifts his beer in salute. I return the gesture, remembering how he and his crew helped us take down Lebedev in that shootout on Main Street. Three days after we hauled Lebedev into federal custody, agents found him dead in his holding cell. Apparent suicide by hanging. Except the coroner's report showed bruising patterns inconsistent with self-inflicted strangulation.
Someone got to him before he could talk.
The Marshal is still out there. Still rebuilding. Still dangerous.
But tonight is about something else. Tonight is about the fact that Harlow Kane agreed to marry me, and this town decided we needed a party to celebrate.
"You doing okay?" Harlow asks quietly.
"Yeah." I kiss her temple. "You?"
"Overwhelmed." She glances around at the packed room. "I didn't expect this many people."
"Small town. Any excuse for a party." I lean closer. "And they're not just celebrating us. They're celebrating surviving everything that happened. The trafficking ring. The shootout. Getting through it."
She nods.
Nate Barrett and Wren Knox work their way over through the crowd. Caleb Knox and Bryn Calder are with them. The four of them must have carpooled over from Glacier Hollow.
"Hell of a turnout," Caleb says by way of greeting.
Wren pulls Harlow into a brief hug. "Happy for you both."
"How's the research work?" I ask.
"Busy. Wolf population is rebounding." Wren exchanges a look with Nate. "Which means more pack tracking."
"And more poachers," Nate adds. "Might need to coordinate on a case next month."
Bryn laughs at something Harlow says, then turns to me. "Caleb's already planning our wedding like a military operation. Spring ceremony. He's got spreadsheets."
"Someone has to make sure things get done right," Caleb says.
"By right, you mean your way," Bryn counters.
