Novel Drama
Epilogue
Epilogue Cleo
6 months later
The heavy clank of the prison door closes behind me with a finality that echoes down the sterile hallway. Each step I take, the sound of my shoes against the concrete 1s loud, contrasting to the muffled voices and distant clatters that drift through the air. This place is a reminder of consequences, of lines crossed and lives altered. My heart beats with a mix of dread and sadness as I approach the visiting area. I didn't just lose my father, but the idea of who I thought he was. I grieve two parts of him, I grieve the alpha I thought he was and the father he should have been
My father sits on the other side of the reinforced glass, a shadow of the man he once was. His hair is more salt than pepper now, and the lines on his face are etched deeper by regret or perhaps it's resignation. He looks up, and when his eyes. meet mine, there's a flicker of something that might be remorse
I pick up the phone, the cool plastic familiar and unwelcome in my hand. "Hi, Dad," I start, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside me
"Cleo," he replies, his voice cracking slightly
"You look... You look good, happy." His eyes scan my face, taking in the changes
"Tam happy," I affirm, not just for him, but for myself. "I've been cleaning up the mess you left behind. It's been tough, but the pack is starting to thrive again."
He nods slowly, and I can see the weight of his choices pressing down on him. "I never wanted..." he starts, but trails off, the excuses too feeble to voice
"You wanted power, Dad. It blinded you," I say, not to wound but to state the truth that we both need to hear. "You lost sight of what was important. You hurt a lot of people."
"I know, Cleo. I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotions he probably doesn't fully understand himself. "For everything- especially for what I did to you and your mother."
The mention of her brings a sharp pang to my heart. "Mom deserved better," I say, the words tight with grief
"T'll regret that for the rest of my life," he replies,
and for a moment, the sincerity 1n his voice bridges the chasm of years and pain between us
I take a deep breath, letting the ache of the past mingle with the resolve of the present. "I have to go," I say, more gently than I feel. "I have responsibilities now, and we have a pack meeting tonight."
"Of course," he agrees quickly. "I'm proud of you, Cleo. Truly." I nod, not knowing what to say to his words; they no longer hold the same meaning to me. "Can you try to convince Linda to come see me," he pleads. I know Linda hasn't spoken to him; she lost her daughter, her mate, and the life she lived all in the same day
Yet, she is doing okay, she visits Lydia every weekend. She never misses a visit. She's also been helping me comb through the documents and mess my father left behind. She no longer
lives in my mother's house, but she is still pack
I couldn't toss her out, no matter the grief she caused me; she is trying at least to be a better person, so that's something
"T will try. "I tell him. He nods and sucks in a breath. "Goodbye, Dad." I hang up before he can see the tears that threaten to spill over. They are for the father I once thought I knew, for the family we could never be
Leaving the cold confines of the prison, I drive to the cemetery where my mother rests. The headstone is simple, elegant, evidence to the life she lived and the legacy she left. I kneel down, placing fresh flowers against the cool marble
The inscription is a whisper of memory: Beloved mother, and Luna
The air is filled with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth, a reminder that life
persists, even in the face of loss. I trace the letters of her name, feeling the connection that has never waned, not even in death
Then, warm hands encircle my swelling belly, a touch that sparks joy even in the shadow of grief. Zayn's presence 1s a balm
"T thought I would find you here," he whispers, his breath a gentle caress against my ear
I lean back into his embrace, comforted by his presence. "Just talking to mom," I say softly
He kisses the top of my head, his hands gently smoothing over the curve of our future, where our little girl grows. "What do you think she would say?" he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and reverence "She'd be happy," I answer, smiling through the
tears. "Proud of where we are, what we've become and that her pack is back in its rightful hands."
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"And what we're about to be," he adds, the joy in his voice palpable as his hands move over my giant baby bump
Parents. Mates. Alphas
Together, we stand and look down at the grave
Our daughter, Clara, will know her grandmother's legacy. She will grow up strong,
loved, and with every opportunity we can give her
"Come on," Zayn says gently, helping me to my feet. "Let's go home."
Hand in hand, we walk back through the cemetery. Behind us, the sun dips below the
horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, a beautiful end to a day. As we reach the car, I pause, looking back at the grave one last time
The future is uncertain, full of challenges and Joys yet to be discovered. But I'm not afraid as we drive away, the setting sun ahead of us. With Zayn by my side and our daughter on the way, I'm ready for whatever comes next-I'm excited for it
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