The Alpha King's Mistress Chapter 132: Epilogue Part 1

**6 years later…..**

My fingers traced the worn frame of the photograph hanging on the plain white wall. A simple black-and-white capture: a lone tree silhouetted against a fiery sunset, its branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. It evoked emotions that felt like a lifetime ago, not the picture itself.

"Just making sure, Lily," a soft voice broke through my reverie. "Tomorrow's the big day, you know. Your fifth exhibition and your first appearance."

I chuckled, glancing to my left. A beautiful woman stood beside me. Her closely cropped hair, a riot of ebony curls, framed a face that, though small, held a radiant warmth. Her skin, a rich, warm brown, seemed to glow with an inner light.

"Tenth time this week, wouldn't you say?" I asked.

She grinned, a flash of white against her warm brown skin. "Maybe. But this is different. People are buzzing about you, Lily. The mysterious artist finally makes an appearance after four years."

My gaze swept across the gallery, taking in the meticulously arranged photographs. Each one captured a moment, a fleeting glimpse into a soul, a story. All were united by the invisible thread of my vision, my interpretation of the world around me.

"I'm not going to change my mind, Charlotte," I murmured, a genuine sense of satisfaction washing over me. "You can rest."

Months of tireless work culminated in this moment – my art laid bare for the world to see for the fifth time.

“Thank goodness” Charlotte replied, letting out a sigh of relief. Then she turned around and her workaholic ass was instantly activated making me giggle.

“Excuse me, is it possible to make the light brighter on this part to ensure each piece was bathed in the perfect spotlight” her voice carried over as she addressed a member of the staff and walked away.

Her heels clicked loudly at the floor.

My gaze drifted towards a photograph tucked away in a less prominent corner, a lone figure gazing out at a vast, rolling landscape. The back view, bathed in the golden shades of a setting sun, held an undeniable familiarity. A knot tightened in my chest, a bittersweet pang of nostalgia echoing warming my heart.

Nicholas.

The memory of that fateful jump from the helicopter flooded back. The moment I hit the water, the pain was excruciating, my whole body screaming in protest. At that time, I thought I would die.

But some miracle had found me. Charlotte Marlon, a lone wolf sailing the open seas on a whim of fate, had become my unlikely savior. She spotted me in the water and pulled me from the brink. When I woke up in a hospital room, the emptiness in my heart was the only thing that registered to me. I can't also feel my wolf that made me hysterical in the hospital room in a snap. After explaining everything to Charlotte, she made me understand that time that Nasya, my wolf, might have retreated into a silent shell, the severed mate bond leaving a gaping wound in our shared soul.

I looked down at my right hand, which was fully covered with tattoos. It was fully burned after the helicopter exploded. Thanks to my regenerative abilities, the damage was not beyond repair but the skin never looked the same. So, I decided to put a tattoo on it to hide the scars.

For the first year, I was a mess and grieving. Grieving for the broken mate bond and how I deeply miss Nicholas. It was harder to stop myself from thinking about him rather than locking myself in a room so as not to book a ticket and find him.

Self-destruction became a constant temptation. But Charlotte refused to let me go. She became my family, the family I never had. Slowly, painstakingly, she helped me pick up the pieces, to find a reason to keep going.

It was Nasya who finally led me back to the light. After a year, one day, after a particularly dark episode, Nasya emerged from the depths of my consciousness. Together, we decided to move forward, to rebuild our lives from the ashes.

Photography, the one passion that had always grounded me, became my salvation. My first hesitant steps into the professional world were met with a stroke of luck. A wealthy art enthusiast spotted my work and became my patron, her investment allowing me to establish myself and gain a foothold in the art scene and Charlotte and I decided to buy our own building for exhibitions.

Leaving my past behind was a deliberate choice. I shed my old identity like a worn-out cloak, embracing the name Lily Moran just like what my father wanted. I used the name Lily since it was always the flower I first saw but I would open my eyes in a hospital after trying to kill myself many times.

Charlotte, ever selfless, offered me her surname, a chance to belong. She never had a family and it was also given to her by an old woman that serves as her guardian. She wanted a sister and I wanted a family.

**Now, I am Lily Moran.**

Four years later, the pull of my past became too strong to ignore. I ventured back to the Silvermoon pack, a nervous knot twisting in my stomach. The reunion was joyous and bittersweet. Quinn had found his mate, a kind and gentle man. They were planning to start a family, a surrogate carrying the child they both longed for. He had ascended to the Alpha position, leading the pack with wisdom and compassion.

It was Quinn and Percival who filled me in on the aftermath. After the attack, there were only a few casualties which I am thankful for. They told me that Nicholas had retreated from the public eye after the attack. He remained the Alpha King, issuing decrees and making decisions, but his physical presence was absent from the Moonstone pack. The news of a rogue rehabilitation program brought a sliver of comfort where they offered shelter and guidance to the lone wolves until they decided to join a pack again.

Percival also told me the news of a successful raid on the rogue stronghold and the capture of the rogue leaders brought a sense of closure. The reign of terror under Keith had finally come to an end. The werewolf community was slowly healing, and justice, however delayed, had prevailed.

The famous spy—the name—Veilios or Makayla Ellis and Florence Lancaster were now buried in the ground. The news of my death spread like wildfire to the werewolf world just after the news of Keith’s death.

Just like my past identity and name, I moved on from the past and started anew.

After 6 years, I coincidentally met Samantha one time. Samantha, too, had found happiness. She was happily married and had managed to reunite her ties with the Moonstone Pack. Samantha was the one who told me that our mother was already dead after going crazy and jumping on the cliff. I never felt anything to the news maybe because she never was a mother to me.

Still, I was happy to hear that Samantha was expecting her first child – a hybrid. The news filled me with excitement. Hybrids were rare and often ostracized, but I wouldn't let history repeat itself. I promised Samantha that I would be there for her, to offer whatever support she and her mate needed.

“I genuinely hope you are all doing well” I whispered to myself while staring at the picture in front of me.

A sad smile tugged at my lips as the memory faded. The past, with all its darkness, had shaped me into the woman I am today. A woman who had clawed her way back from the pain, a woman who had found strength in her newfound family.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the gallery. Charlotte's warm laughter mingled with another voice, younger and brimming with energy.

I turned, a grin blooming on my face as I saw Charlotte engulf a young woman in a bear hug. Sara Douglas stood there, her blonde hair perfectly curled and bright eyes sparkling. At nineteen, she still possessed a childlike demeanor that was both endearing and slightly terrifying. Sara stays with me here in New York every school vacation while Charlotte and I drive to Moonstone Pack every holiday like a normal family would.

“Lily!” Sara waved excitedly at me and ran towards me.

Yes, Sara, Percival, and Quinn are also calling me by my new name. It was funny at first because they kept on interchanging my new and old name but they got used to my new one.

"Hey there, troublemaker," I chuckled, pulling her into a hug of my own. "How was your coffee date?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started! This guy, right? Huge, looked like he could wrestle a bear, but about as smooth as sandpaper."

Charlotte snorted, "Sounds like another winner, Sara."

"The worst Aunt Lottie!" Sara continued, "He kept trying to hold my hand, like, within the first five minutes! And then he got all creepy, talking about his 'mate instinct' and stuff. Like, dude, we just met! And I know it was impossible that he was my mate"

I raised an eyebrow, a smile on my lips. "So, what did you do, sweetheart?"

Sara grinned, "Gave him a right hook to the jaw, of course! Didn't even see it coming."

Charlotte burst out laughing, slapping her knee. "Oh, Sara, you are a handful! But at least you know how to handle yourself."

"Hey!" Sara nudged Charlotte with her elbow. "Aunt Lottie, it wasn't funny when it was happening!"

As we walked towards the gallery entrance, Sara holding my hand tightly and Charlotte on my right side, regaling us with tales of her own hilariously disastrous dates, a wave of contentment washed over me.

"Speaking of disastrous dates," Charlotte interjected, "remember that time I went out with the supposed 'aspiring musician'?"

Sara replied curiously, "What happened?"

Charlotte chuckled. "He spent the entire evening serenading me with off-key renditions of heavy metal ballads. By the end of the night, I had a headache and a newfound appreciation for silence."

We all burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the gallery.

My future is still like a blank canvas. But one thing was certain – I wouldn't be facing it alone this time. I had my art, my family, and the lessons learned from both the darkness and the pain of the past.