Epilogue

Epilogue
Azzurra was dragged down into the dungeons, her heart hammering in her chest. She noticed the needle still in Cesario’s arm whatever they had injected into him had rendered the toddler unconscious. Panic overtook her, thoughts spinning out of control.

Who was this man dragging her? He couldn’t possibly be human he was too strong. The one carrying Cesario ahead of her was a guard. Her blood ran cold. Could there be a traitor inside the mansion?

Her fears sharpened when she saw the guard press against a hidden brick. A secret passage yawned open in the wall, and they dragged her through it. The knowledge of that tunnel meant only one thing: these people weren’t outsiders. They knew the mansion inside out.

She thrashed violently, biting down on her captor’s hand until he cursed and jerked back. Azzurra screamed at the top of her lungs for help, but his palm slammed over her mouth again.

“If you don’t want the boy dead, you’ll keep quiet,” he hissed in her ear.

Her struggles stopped instantly. The threat was enough. Memories of Giuditta flooded her mind it was as if history itself was repeating, a cruel déjà vu she had sworn she would never relive.

They marched her through the darkness until the tunnel opened into a chamber. A door on the right creaked open, and she was shoved inside. Azzurra froze when she saw the faces waiting for her.

Guards. Men she recognized. Men of the mansion.

Her stomach twisted into knots when she realized every one of them was a werewolf and worse, she had seen their faces before, smiling in false civility when Marcello had introduced her as his mate. She remembered the venom hidden in their eyes.

Two others stood apart: wealthy businessmen Benedetto had once spoken of. Men who despised humans, their disdain barely concealed. Now it all aligned the rebels, the ones resisting the changes Marcello had fought for, those who could not stomach seeing slaves rise to equals.

Straightening her spine, Azzurra lifted her chin despite the iron grip on her wrists. Her eyes locked on the man in charge.

“Is this how you treat your queen, Mr. Gasparini?” Her voice was cool, sharp as glass.

Gasparini rose and stalked toward her, sneer curling his lips. “You’ll never be my queen,” he spat. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re safe because you know our faces. You’re here to die.”

His glare cut through her. “Did you really believe you could corrupt our kingdom and we’d remain silent? Our king might enjoy your body, but we don’t. Once you’re gone, he’ll remember his place. How dare you think you and I are the same?” His words dripped with venom.

Azzurra inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Once, equality between humans and wolves had been nothing more than a dream. Marcello had made it real, but dreams never came without resistance. Hatred was inevitable. The oppressors of yesterday could not bear to see their pets as equals today.

“Killing me will kill you too,” she said, buying time. Marcello would already know she was missing he could feel her emotions. She only needed to hold out long enough for him to arrive.

Gasparini’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think we act blindly? We are not alone. There are powers far greater behind us. Our mission is called Blood for a reason we’ll cleanse this kingdom of the filth you’ve brought into it. And if we die in the process, so be it.”

“Enough,” another man ordered from the couch. “Do it.”

Rough hands forced her to her knees. Gasparini pulled a revolver from his coat and pressed the cold metal against her head. The sharp click of the safety released sent a shiver down her spine.

“Marcello will kill you all,” she ground out through gritted teeth, though her heart trembled.

Her gaze darted to Cesario’s limp body. Her chest squeezed painfully as one of them sneered, “Don’t worry. Once you’re gone, we’ll deal with him too. Then no one will be left to poison our king.”

The door burst open.

Chaos erupted.

Gasparini’s finger pulled the trigger, but Azzurra moved at the last instant. The bullet tore into the leg of the guard behind her. Another man flung Cesario at her, and she caught the child, shielding his small body with her own as she crouched in the corner.

Gunfire cracked, claws slashed, men screamed. The battle ended almost as swiftly as it began. The silence afterward was heavy, broken only by ragged breaths.

Then strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against a familiar chest. “Are you hurt?” Marcello’s voice thundered in her ears, his amber eyes scanning her from head to toe before falling on Cesario.

“What did they do to him?”

“They injected something,” she whispered, clutching their son tightly.

Marcello swept them both into his arms. She averted her eyes from the blood-soaked floor and the bodies strewn across it as he carried them upstairs.

The doctor was summoned. Cesario was examined, and relief washed through them when he assured them the boy would wake soon. Only then, once the others had left, did Marcello crush Azzurra against him, burying his face into her neck.

“You scared me,” he confessed hoarsely. “I thought I was going to lose you both.”

Azzurra stroked his back gently. “Not everyone will accept the change, Marcello. People like them will keep coming. We just need to be strong enough to face it.”

“I’ll kill them all,” he growled, low and dangerous. His wolves had betrayed him he would hunt down every last conspirator until their rebellion was nothing but ash.

Later, after her shower, Azzurra found him lying beside Cesario, caressing the boy’s cheek. Quietly, she slipped into bed at his other side. Marcello pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ll protect you,” he vowed. “Both of you. Always.”

“I know,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He tilted her chin and captured her lips in a deep, fervent kiss. She returned it with equal fire

“Ughhh… where am I?” Cesario’s groggy, babyish voice cut through the air, making them jolt apart.

Azzurra’s cheeks flushed as she scooped him up, kissing his cheek. “Where else would you be?” she teased gently.

Marcello handed over a glass of water, and Azzurra guided it to Cesario’s lips. The boy sipped, then blinked sleepily at the pile of unopened presents.

“Oh no!” he cried, eyes wide. “I swept without unbowxing my gifts! I wanna do it now!” His earlier drowsiness evaporated.

Marcello chuckled, reaching for the boxes. “Then let’s open them together.”

“Yay!” Cesario squealed, his joy lighting up the room as both parents smiled.

The little boy tore into Marcello’s gift first a grand portrait of himself. His blue eyes widened in awe. “I iwook wike a bwaby!” he babbled, sending laughter through the room.

“You are a baby,” Azzurra giggled, kissing his cheek.

Marcello wrapped his arms around them both, holding his world together in his embrace.

“Cwan’t bweathe,” Cesario squeaked, patting his father’s shoulder.

Their laughter rang through the chamber, a sound stronger than any rebellion, sealing them in love, safety, and hope for the future.