⊰ Epilogue ⊱ The Heir and the Heretic

⊰ Epilogue ⊱ The Heir and the Heretic
❖ 18 Years Later ❖

| Elio |

I lean against the stone pillar of our front terrace, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes. Four-thirty. They’re late.

Typical.

Jackson’s always been punctual to a fault—Dad says it’s some weird Alpha thing about respect and power dynamics. So if they’re running behind, it’s probably because his precious daughter is having some kind of meltdown about meeting me.

Can’t say I blame her.

I run a hand through my hair, making sure it’s still perfectly styled, and adjust my shirt. Black button-down, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the muscle I’ve put on this summer. Casual but calculated. The kind of look that says I’m not trying too hard while absolutely trying that hard.

Mom would roll her eyes if she could see me right now. She’s always going on about being genuine, being myself, blah blah blah. But the thing is, being myself has gotten me everything I’ve ever wanted so far, so why change now?

Phoebe’s perfect for what I need right now—gorgeous, eager to please, and completely uncomplicated. She's the kind of girl who shows up when I text, never asks difficult questions, and looks at me like I hung the moon. If I didn’t have these obligations to Serena, I might even consider making things official with her. Maybe. At least until I get bored, which let’s be honest, always happens eventually.

Hell, maybe I’ll even set Serena up with some side piece of her own once she’s popped out an heir or two. Keep everyone happy.

It’s not like this is a love match. We both know what this is—a political arrangement dressed up with fancy ceremonies and pretty dresses. We merge our parents’ packs, I get to be Alpha, and she gets to be Luna of the most powerful pack in the territory. Win-win.

And honestly? After years of listening to my parents go on about true love and soulmates and all that romantic bullshit, I’m kind of looking forward to something simple and transactional. No messy emotions, no dramatic scenes. Just two people fulfilling their obligations to their families.

A car appears at the end of our long driveway, black SUV with tinted windows. 

Finally.

I straighten up, putting on what Phoebe calls my “prince face”—the charming smile that’s gotten me out of detention more times than I can count and into the pants of half the girls at school. Not that I’m planning to use it on Serena, but habits die hard.

The car pulls up to the front steps, and I watch as Jackson emerges from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly the same as he did when I was a kid—graying temples, serious expression, the kind of presence that makes other wolves automatically straighten their spines. His mate Helen gets out of the passenger side, still beautiful in that quiet way that always made me think she was too good for all the political bullshit our families swim in.

And then the back door opens.

What. The. Fuck.

The girl—woman, really, because there’s nothing childish about her—who steps out of that car is definitely not the awkward, gangly, big-toothed brat I remember from childhood visits. This Serena is all curves and confidence, long dark hair catching the afternoon sun, wearing a sundress that should be illegal in at least twelve states.

She’s gorgeous. Like, stop-traffic, forget-your-own-name gorgeous.

And she’s looking at me like I’m something unpleasant she stepped in.

Well, shit.

“Elio,” Jackson calls out, that familiar tone that’s always seemed to see right through whatever act I’m putting on. “Good to see you.”

I jog down the steps, slipping seamlessly into the role I’ve perfected over the years—respectful but not submissive, charming but not smarmy. The golden boy who’s going to inherit all of this someday.

“Alpha Jackson, Luna Helen,” I say, offering my hand to shake. Jackson’s grip is firm, testing. Helen’s smile is warm but assessing. They’re both watching me like they’re trying to figure out what kind of man I’ve become.

Good luck with that. I’m still figuring it out myself.

“And Serena,” I turn to her with my best smile, the one that usually makes girls giggle and blush. “It’s been way too long.”

She takes my offered hand, her grip surprisingly strong, and looks me dead in the eye. “Has it?” she says, voice honey-sweet with just enough edge to let me know she remembers exactly how I used to treat her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Ouch.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

The thing is, I remember Serena. Scrawny little thing with too-big teeth and frizzy hair who used to follow me around during pack visits, desperate for any scrap of attention. I wasn’t exactly kind to her back then. What can I say? I was a kid, she was annoying, and nobody ever told me I had to be nice to the girl I’d have to marry someday.

Looking at her now, though... damn. Puberty hit her like a fucking freight train in the best possible way.

“So,” I say as we all head toward the house, falling into step beside her while her parents walk ahead. “How have you been? Ready for college?”

“I’ve been accepted to MIT’s Nuclear Engineering program,” she replies, not bothering to look at me. “Starting in the fall.”

Holy shit. 

Nuclear engineering? At MIT? That’s not just impressive—that’s genius-level stuff.

“That’s... wow,” I say, and for once I’m not putting on an act. “That’s incredible, Serena. Seriously.”

“Is it?” she asks, finally turning those dark eyes my way. “You sound surprised that I might actually have a brain.”

Touché.

We reach the front door, and I can hear my parents inside—Mom’s laugh carrying through the open windows, Dad’s deeper voice joining the conversation. For a moment, I wonder what they’ll think of this new, improved Serena. If they’ll be as blindsided as I am.

“Your parents are expecting us,” Helen says, checking her watch. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Of course,” I agree, reaching for the door handle. But as I do, Serena steps closer, close enough that I catch her scent—something light and floral that makes my brain go temporarily offline.

“Just so we’re clear,” she says quietly, her voice pitched low enough that only I can hear, “I know exactly what you’re thinking right now. I know you thought you’d be getting some desperate little mouse you could manipulate and ignore while you play house with your little girlfriend.”

My stomach drops. 

How the hell does she know about Phoebe?!

“But here’s the thing, Elio,” she continues, my name rolling off her tongue like a challenge. “I’m not that scared little girl anymore. And if you think you’re going to treat me the way you did when we were kids, if you think you can just fuck me occasionally while keeping your side piece happy…” She pauses, letting that sink in. “Well. You’re about to learn just how wrong you can be.”

Before I can respond—before I can even process what just happened—she’s stepping past me into the house, her smile bright and innocent as she greets my parents.

I stand there for a moment, staring after her, my mind reeling.

Damn.

…

I’m in trouble.

The kind of trouble that’s going to turn my perfectly planned life completely upside down. And the worst part?

I think I’m looking forward to it.

❖

Thank you all so much for your incredible patience and support. As some of you know, this novel began as a collaborative outline project with my editor. But about 45 chapters in, due to unexpected creative circumstances, I had to take over completely and start improvising. It definitely wasn’t the plan—but despite never having written a werewolf novel before, I found myself enjoying the challenge more than I expected.

There’s a strong chance I’ll write Elio’s story as a spin-off, but since this platform doesn’t offer a direct way to communicate with readers, the only way to stay in the loop is to follow me on Instagram: @laisha_gardner. I’ll share all future news there. <3