Page 48 of Bound to the Dragon
“It feels surreal sometimes,” I admit. “After generations of infertility, and now here’s Killian, perfectly healthy and already showing signs of his dragon heritage.” Just yesterday, I’d caught tiny wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils while he napped.
Virginia’s expression grows more serious. “Speaking of playing parts, I have news from the new Moonhaven territory.”
Moonhaven—the name the rogues chose for their reclaimed land, honoring the moon that witnessed their ancestors’ first transformation there. It suits them.
“Good news, I hope?”
“The best. Granger is officially dead.” Virginia’s voice carries a mixture of satisfaction and sadness. “The final confrontation happened last week. He refused to surrender even when it was clear he’d lost everything.”
I feel a complex mix of emotions at the news. Relief, certainly—Granger’s death means the last loose thread is finally cut. But also sadness for the waste of it all. If he’d chosen differently years ago, so much pain could have been avoided.
“How are you handling it?” I ask Virginia. She’d been instrumental in the rogues’ campaign to reclaim their land, serving as a bridge between the old Silver Glade loyalists and the displaced families seeking justice.
“Better than expected,” she admits. “Dina—the rogue leader—she’s been named Alpha of Moonhaven. She’s asked me to serve as her Beta.”
“Virginia, that’s wonderful!” I reach for her hand, squeezing tight. “You’ll be amazing.”
She’d found her calling with the rogues, her natural leadership skills finally given proper outlet. It had taken time for us to rebuild our friendship after her deception during the attacks, but we’d worked through it. Trust, I’d learned, was something that could be rebuilt stronger after being broken, as long as both parties were willing to do the work.
“I want you both there for my installation ceremony next month,” Virginia continues. “Dina specifically requested your presence, Madison. She wants to formally thank you for what you did.”
“What we did,” I correct. “None of it would have worked without everyone playing their part.”
Mom shifts Killian to her shoulder, patting his back gently. “Your father would be proud of how this all turned out,” she says quietly.
I tense automatically at the mention of him, but the sharp pain that used to accompany thoughts of my father has dulled to a manageable ache. “Would he? Even knowing the cost of what he did?”
“He made terrible choices,” Mom acknowledges. “But you’ve found a way to heal the damage he caused. That’s not something everyone gets the chance to do.”
She’s right, though it’s taken me months of soul-searching to accept it. I can’t undo my father’s betrayal, but I can ensure itnever happens again. That my son grows up understanding the weight of leadership, the importance of honor over expedience.
“Tell me about the ceremony preparations,” Virginia says, clearly sensing my need for a subject change. “I want to hear everything.”
We spend the next hour chatting about the day’s plans, taking turns holding Killian and marveling over his tiny features. It feels wonderfully normal—three females gossiping about life and love and the future stretching ahead of us.
A soft knock interrupts our conversation. “Come in,” I call.
Blaze appears with Vigo at his side, both men dressed in their ceremonial best. “Ladies, we’re ready to begin when you are.”
I stand, smoothing down the flowing blue dress I chose for the occasion—the same shade as the one I wore to our first disastrous dinner together. It seems appropriate, given how far we’ve all come.
“We’re ready,” I announce, taking Killian back from Mom.
As we make our way downstairs, I’m struck by how different this feels from our previous ceremonies. There’s no tension crackling in the air, no suspicious glances or whispered doubts. Instead, there’s genuine celebration, the kind that comes from a community that has weathered storms together and emerged stronger.
The ceremony itself is beautiful in its simplicity. A pack elder speaks eloquently about new generations and the hope they represent. When he formally names Killian as heir to the Shadow Pine pack, the cheer that goes up from the assembled guests is deafening.
But it’s the smaller moments that will stay with me forever. The way Blaze’s hand trembles slightly as he holds our son during the blessing. The tears of joy in Lillian’s eyes as she watches. The respectful nod Dina gives me from across the crowd, acknowledging what we’ve both fought to build.
As the sun sets and the celebration moves into its evening phase, I find myself on the veranda where it all began. The same space where our first ceremony was attacked, where our second was interrupted, now rings with laughter and music and hope.
“No regrets?” Blaze asks, appearing at my side with two glasses of champagne.
I consider the question seriously as I accept the drink. A year ago, I might have said yes—regrets about the secrets kept, the pain endured, the trust broken and rebuilt. But looking at our life now, at the peace we’ve helped forge and the love we’ve created, how can I regret the journey that brought us here?
“None,” I say firmly. “Not a single one.”
He raises his glass. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” I echo, and as our glasses touch, I feel the truth of it settle deep in my bones.
We are exactly where we’re meant to be.
***
