Epilogue

I just wanted to get a little peek at Tara. I had denied it to myself for years. I knew she was fine. I had Cyril tell me daily that it was.

It hurt to know that she was happy without me. gave birth to children and everything has been perfect for them for the last twenty years.

I had wished for her and for once in my life my wish will come true.

"Everything OK?" A blond girl came towards me. At least that was what I could see against the rising sun. I brushed the dirt off my clothes and got off my motorcycle.

I had been standing in front of the workshop for a while now, staring into space. I was surprised anyone was here on a Sunday at all. I didn't expect it until tomorrow.

"It stutters, doesn't start properly anymore. It has to go to the workshop." That was a pretty lousy explanation. I could have said the tank is dirty, as is the fuel line and probably the carburetor.

I hadn't even bothered to get a service in the last few years. I could easily buy a new one, but somehow I got stuck on the thing.

I ignored her and looked at my phone. I had sent Cyril my location and was surprised he hadn't shown up or reported back yet. It didn't take him ten minutes to show up here, a few seconds to respond to my message.

I wouldn't be able to stay here much longer without being discovered. I had to hold out until tomorrow when the damn workshop opened again. It could have given up the ghost anywhere, why now.

I would have to walk the last few miles to see Tara. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that crossing the borders on foot would not go unnoticed. Alaister's witch Vila would notice right away and who knows what would do.

I had no intention of facing Tara. I just wanted to see her. I didn't want to take the risk of Vila informing anyone in the pack. Crossing one of the official checkpoints with my forged papers was the safest.

"Hello? Hello?" I heard the girl call me. I must have been lost in thought again.

She stood a few feet away from me and held out her hand. "I said I'll take a look. You're lucky I'm here today. I'm a little late with my orders, otherwise I never come on Sundays," she laughed.

I looked at her hand, which she patiently held out for me to give her the keys. There was still a shadow on her face. I looked at her hand and pulled out the keys and held them over her hands.

While I was suspicious of any stranger, for the first time in a long time I wasn't. It was probably because of the proximity to Tara and that the war had never made it to this area.

I've only been here a day and not having to constantly look over my shoulder was reassuring. Maybe I should have come here much earlier, but I didn't trust myself.

"This is your shop?" I asked, still looking at her hand. I felt for the key, it would still start. Why was she here, on a Sunday? I didn't trust anyone, not even a little wolf .

I scanned my surroundings. We were here on the outskirts of town. Around me were meadows and fields. The nearest forest was a good two kilometers away and it was surprisingly quiet. Hardly a bird sang.

I slowly pulled the key out of the ignition and seriously considered driving on, but after a few kilometers I would have to look for a new workshop. I wouldn't get far.

I got off my motorcycle and handed her the key.

"Yes it is," she replied. "I'm Hope, by the way," she grabbed the key and I froze as our fingertips touched. I pulled her away so quickly she probably didn't even realize we'd touched.

"Hope?" My voice sounded frozen. The name didn't even sound familiar to me. Something about her seemed familiar, though, but I couldn't place it. She was still facing the sun and I only saw shadows on her face.

"Yes, Hope Stone," she replied indifferently, shrugging her shoulders. stones? My brain didn't need to search its archives.

I knew exactly who the Stones were, not least because it was Alpha Stone territory I was in. Tara was a Stone, but I hadn't been in Allaister territory where she was.

"Caleb Stone is your father?" I asked in disbelief. It was the only conclusion I could draw. Stone must have kids, I just never checked with Callum. However, I knew very well that he was here from time to time.

"Yes, that's right. Do you know him?" She twisted my keys around her fingers and walked towards the workshop to unlock it.

I shook my head at her question, although she couldn't see it. I had never met Caleb Stone myself. It was my best friend Callum who visited him regularly.

"Caspian de Borgodis", I introduced myself and looked at her back, her long blond hair, the dirty jeans and the threadbare sweater she was wearing when she unlocked the workshop.

A small "Oh," she breathed from her lips and paused for a moment. I was immediately annoyed that I hadn't used my alias.

"Then I know where to take you," she answered hesitantly and turned to me. She avoided my gaze. Although I still couldn't see her face clearly in the blazing sun, the resemblance to Tara was unmistakable.

She turned away from me, a little embarrassed. She was probably debating with herself whether she should. I didn't need her help, I had already smelled Tara's scent over the hundred kilometers that separated us.

Even if I wasn't able to, I knew exactly where to find her. By the little lake, in Grayson's house, which he had built just for her.

I hunted down anyone who, after all I was responsible for, seemed the slightest threat to her.

"Cover!" someone yelled in warning from afar. It wasn't just anyone. It was Cyril I was expecting. In a flash, I reached out for Hope, yanking her with me and throwing myself protectively over her to the ground.

Bullets slammed into the door she had just unlocked. The hissing died away after four impacts.

"Got them," I heard Cyril growling in the distance. It was quieter as Hope's heartbeat pounded and her breathing went haywire. I cautiously turned my head to the door and saw four silver bullets stuck in the door.

"It's safe now. My husband took care of it." I pulled her trembling body up, and the clink of my keys slipping from her hand was the only new sound I heard.

"Sorry," I said sourly, leaving her. I eyed the missiles and looked in the direction I'd heard Cyril's voice coming from. It wasn't long before he emerged from the woods with a lifeless body slung over his shoulders .

A minute later he was ten meters away from us and his body slid to the ground.

"They still make it here." He patted his shoulders and gestured at the body beside him. "This one's still alive."

I straightened up from Hope's shaking body. She was beside herself, but all I could see was the motionless body Cyril dropped next to us.

"She's old," I stated the obvious. You at least forty years. Assassins were exclusively human. Wolves and lycans, with their fighting prowess, were easier to track down, while humans were easily lost in the crowd.

I had never heard of one that had survived this long. My brother Casimir himself made sure that a botched job or a job well done always had the same ending for his assassins.

"It was the last one here. More or less. There is one more, but it doesn't pose a threat," Cyril informed me and I pricked up my ears. But with Hope next to me, I didn't want to ask.

"What shall we do with her?" Cyril looked at Hope, who got up and slowly regained consciousness. I shrugged my shoulders. She definitely knew too much now. Something that happened outside the confines of the Stones and Alaister's went unrecognized in here.

"You couldn't have solved it more discreetly?" I snorted. The Assassin was valuable. The last one we caught alive took her own life eight years ago.

"No and you should look at what she did," Cyril said dryly.

"I can show you," Hope cleared her throat behind me. I hardly liked to look at her since she looked so much like Tara. It hurt too much to have a bad copy of her standing next to me.

"I can take care of both of you, you go to Tara," Cyril replied coldly.

"No, take them both with you. I'll meet you in Paris."

"Julien has already taken over and is with Tara," Cyril informed me. He bent down for the unconscious assassin and ignored Hope's scream as he grabbed her as well.

He silenced her before she could sound the alarm. She was now lying in his arms as unconscious as the assassin.

"Did that have to be?" I asked him sullenly.

"You didn't really plan on explaining anything to her?" he snapped sarcastically. "She didn't have time to let anyone know. We can go undetected," he added dryly.

"It's Hope Stone," I murmured.

"And?" he asked almost irritated. Cyril definitely needed to work on his sensitivity.

"What about the other assassin who's still alive?" I inquired, watching as he shouldered both bodies.

"Wyatt Alaister's mate," he informed me.

"How long have you known that?"

"Twenty years," he replied, unperturbed. Well, that impressed me even more. I was relying on his judgment, I was telling myself mantra-like, not to freak out.

"No, I didn't mean to tell you," he commented on my wild train of thought.

"How many did she kill?" I inquired, ignoring that he was wandering in my head.

"Two. It was two assassins. They were after her." Cyril went on his way without looking back at me.

"How many were there altogether?"

"Too many," I heard him say softly. It was time he went home.

"Thanks," I said just as quietly.

"Go to Tara! It's about time our king returned," his words dropped to a whisper because he wanted it that way, not because he was too far away.

end