“Just like that? No concerns about safety or logistics?”
“I married a woman who broke a three-hundred-year-old curse and defeated Thornridge operatives while cut off from her wolf. I think she can handle a northern pack with some old magic problems. Besides, I’m curious about the historical context. Four-hundred-year-old curses don’t happen without an interesting backstory.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Of course you want to research it. I should have known.”
“You did know. You married a historian.”
“I married you. The historian part was just a bonus.”
We return to the grand opening once Elara is settled back in her carrier. The crowd has grown larger, with more wolves arriving to tour the facility and celebrate what it represents. Caelan finds us and pulls Sera into a hug that would have been impossible before the curse broke.
“The center is amazing,” Sera’s sister gushes. “I can’t believe you built all of this in two years.”
“We had help,” Sera reminds her. “The construction crews from both territories worked around the clock.”
“Still. It’s incredible. And the archives on the second floor? I spent an hour reading through the Llewelyn historical records. There’s so much I never knew about our pack’s history.”
“That’s the point. No more secrets. No more hidden curses disguised as cultural tradition.” Sera gestures to the building around us. “This place represents truth. Good and bad, all of it documented so future generations can learn from our mistakes.”
Caelan spots Elara sleeping in the carrier against my chest. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course.” I carefully transfer our daughter to Caelan’s arms, watching as Sera’s sister’s face transforms with delight.
“She’s gotten so big already,” Caelan coos. “Look at those tiny fingers.”
Sera and I exchange amused glances. Caelan has been completely smitten with her niece since birth, visiting at least twice a week despite living in Llewelyn territory.
Oren approaches with Ash at his side. “Impressive facility. You should be proud of what you’ve built here.”
“Sera did most of the work,” I deflect. “I just provided historical context and archived materials.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Sera interjects. “Reeyan spent six months cataloging and cross-referencing every document from both packs. He created the entire organizational system we’re using.”
“Of course he did.” Wyn appears behind Oren with Raegan. “Our historian can’t resist a good filing system.”
“Mock all you want. When you need to find something in those archives, you’ll appreciate my organizational skills.”
Raegan moves closer to peek at Elara in Caelan’s arms. “She’s beautiful. Congratulations again.”
“Thank you.” Sera slips her hand into mine. “We’re pretty smitten.”
The afternoon progresses with speeches and tours and endless conversations about the center’s purpose and future. Matriarch Lydia speaks about the importance of remembering the past while embracing the future. Oren discusses inter-pack cooperation and the strength that comes from shared knowledge. Sera gives a brief speech about breaking curses and building bridges that has several Llewelyn women in tears.
I stand at the back of the crowd, holding our sleeping daughter, and watch my mate inspire her people with words I helped her refine but that come from her own hard-won wisdom. She glows with confidence and purpose, so different from the reserved archivist who left Llewelyn territory two years ago searching for answers about a vision she didn’t understand.
The curse took so much from her. From all of them. But in breaking it, Sera found herself. Found us. Found a purpose that extends beyond just her own pack to every wolf suffering under magical suppression.
When the speeches end and the crowd disperses to explore the facility, Sera finds me again. Takes Elara from my arms and cradles her close while we walk through the archives together.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That I spent my whole life studying historical patterns to prevent tragedies. Trying to make sure no one else lost what I lost.” I pause in front of a display documenting the curse and its breaking. “But maybe the real pattern I was meant to find was you. The woman brave enough to break three hundred years of magical imprisonment. The woman who became my mate and the mother of my child. The woman who transformed not just her pack but the entire valley’s understanding of what’s possible.”
She leans against my shoulder. “That’s very romantic for a historian.”
“I have my moments.”
We stand there in the archives we built together, surrounded by the history we documented and the future we’re creating. Elara sleeps between us, oblivious to the significance ofthis moment but protected by the work her parents have done to ensure she’ll never know the curse’s grip.
