“Because it’s always true.”
The light shifted, evening settling in around us.
Inside, I could hear Harper’s voice, my mother’s softer one, Luca’s quiet laugh.
My worlds.
Not separate anymore.
Not clean.
But mine.
I stepped into Cassian, pressing my mouth to his in a slow, deliberate kiss.
No urgency.
No fear.
Just certainty.
When I pulled back, his hand tightened slightly around mine.
“Whatever comes next,” I said, “we face it.”
“I know.”
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later
The first time I unlocked the front door alone, it had felt like trespassing.
Cassian’s house South of Broad had stopped feeling like a fortress and started feeling like a home somewhere between the third and fourth week after I moved my clothes into the master closet. My books followed. Then my coffee mugs. Then the ridiculous woven basket from my condo that I’d once convinced myself was “tasteful minimalism.”
Now, my old place near the water sat mostly empty—listed, photographed, described in clean, flattering language that made it look like the life I’d once thought I wanted.
Prestigious. Adult. Peaceful.
I smiled every time I read the listing.
It had been peaceful.
It had not been alive.
Charleston in late spring felt different than it had the night I wrote that letter months ago. The air was softer now, heavy with jasmine and salt. The city moved with its usual charm—carriages clattering, tourists drifting, locals pretending not to notice either.
But I moved differently inside it.
Not as the face of an organization.
Not as someone guarding an image.
Just as myself.
My mornings began in the courtyard now. Coffee in hand. Bare feet on cool stone. Cassian usually already awake, usually already aware of the rhythm of the street before I’d even opened my eyes.
Hunters don’t let go.
