They returned to the Pearl Coast.
The house on the cliff was waiting. The widow's walk. The beach. The rhythm of tides that didn't care about treaties or Councils or ancient creatures bound in tunnels.
Lyra and Kael settled into a routine. Mornings walking the shoreline. Afternoons reading in the parlor—she was teaching him Latin, he was teaching her about music. Evenings on the widow's walk, watching the sun set.
Their fathers visited less often. Cassius was busy managing the aftermath of the Council presentation. Aldric was doing the same with the pack. The alliance was fragile—a single crack in a wall that had stood for three centuries.
One evening, a storm rolled in from the Pacific. Lyra and Kael watched from the window as lightning split the sky.
"My mother used to love storms," Kael said. "She'd sit on the porch and watch them for hours."
"Your father told me how they met. She saw him shift."
Kael nodded. "She wasn't afraid. That's what he always said. She just looked at him like he was a person. Not a wolf. Not a monster. Just a person."
Lyra leaned against him. "She sounds like she was brave."
"She was. Braver than me."
"You keep saying that. I don't believe it."
He was quiet for a moment. "I spent my whole life trying to be what my father wanted. The perfect heir. The perfect wolf. I never asked what I wanted."
"And now?"
"Now I know." He turned to look at her. "I want you. I want this. I want to stop hiding."
"Then we stop hiding."
"It's not that simple."
"Maybe it is. Maybe we've been making it complicated because we're afraid."
The storm raged outside. Inside, they held each other and watched the lightning.