Chapter 48
The days that followed were a blur of recovery and reorganization. With the threat of Louisa and Julianne finally extinguished, the heavy, oppressive shroud that had hung over the Blackwood Packhouse for decades began to lift.
But for Libby, the physical scars healed faster than the mental ones.
The Ritual of Letting Go
Late one evening, a week after the incident at the ridge, Libby found herself back at the picnic spot. This time, however, she wasn't alone, and she wasn't afraid. Blake walked beside her, carrying a small wooden box, while Alistair trailed slightly behind, a silent witness to the finality of the evening.
"You're sure about this?" Blake asked, his voice low and supportive.
Libby nodded. "I can't build a future if I’m still holding onto pieces of their nightmare, Blake. I need to clear the air. Literally."
They reached the bank of the creek. Libby opened the box. Inside were the small relics of her parents' stolen lives—a silver locket Julianne had kept as a trophy, the old, rusted keys to the crypts she had finally surrendered, and the last of the wolfsbane vials the guards had recovered from Louisa’s car.
One by one, she handed the items to Blake. With his Alpha strength, he crushed the metal keys into unrecognizable scrap, dropping them into the deepest part of the rushing water. The wolfsbane was neutralized and buried deep in the earth, far from any roots.
Finally, Libby held the locket. She didn't open it. She didn't need to. She closed her eyes and whispered a private goodbye to the versions of her parents that lived only in her memories. Then, she cast it into the stream, watching the silver glint once before the current swept it into the dark.
"It’s done," she breathed, a visible shiver of relief running through her.
The next morning, the Packhouse was a hive of activity. The mourning period for the "old ways" was officially over. Blake stood on the grand balcony overlooking the courtyard, Libby at his side. Thousands of pack members stood below, their faces tilted upward.
"Members of the Blackwood Pack," Blake’s voice boomed, amplified by his Alpha command. "We have endured a year of shadows. We have faced the ghosts of our past and the treachery of those we once called family. But the cycle of vengeance ends today."
He took Libby’s hand, lifting it for everyone to see.
"In two weeks' time, under the full moon, we will celebrate the Union. Libby will be formalised as your Luna. Not because of a bloodline, and not because of a debt—but because she is the heart of this pack. She has shown more strength in her mercy than any warrior has shown with a blade."
A roar of approval went up from the crowd—a sound of genuine joy that shook the leaves on the trees. For the first time, Libby didn't feel like a victim of fate. She felt like a leader.
Later that afternoon, Alistair found Libby in the library, where she was looking over maps of the territory’s medicinal herb gardens. He looked weary, but his eyes were clear.
"I just received a final confirmation from the Blackwood Prison," Alistair said, leaning against the doorframe.
Libby looked up, her pulse steady. "And?"
"Julianne has been placed in a high-security cell with no windows. Louisa is in the wing for younger offenders, but as per your request, they are permitted one hour of 'yard time' together per week. Behind twenty feet of electrified wire and under the eyes of four armed sentinels."
Libby looked out the window. "Is they talking?"
"According to the guards, no," Alistair replied. "The first time they saw each other, Julianne didn't even recognize her. She’s too far gone in her own delusions. Louisa just stood there and watched her. I think she’s finally realizing that the woman she threw her life away for doesn't truly exist."
Libby felt a flicker of pity, but it didn't take root. "That is their journey now. Ours is here."
"Indeed, Luna," Alistair smiled—a rare, genuine expression. "By the way, the caterers are asking about the cake. Apparently, Blake wants 'something grand,' and I suspect if we leave it to him, it will be shaped like a wolf."
Libby laughed, the sound bright and clear, echoing through the room that used to feel so cold. "Tell the caterers I’ll handle it. I’ve had enough of Blake’s 'Alpha' decorating ideas for one lifetime."
As Alistair left, Libby looked down at the map. The territory was vast, the future was open, and for the first time in sixteen years, she wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was simply living.