Page 456 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Several printed pages slide into my hand. Screenshots. Captions. Dates and usernames. Pictures pulled from a Russian social media site I haven’t used in years.

The first picture catches me by the throat.

A towering alpha stands inside a grungy underground fighting ring, one combat boot planted against a fallen opponent’s chest. Choppy white hair hangs to his shoulders, blood streaked across his muscled bare ribs and metal prosthetic arm.

An all-too-familiar military gas mask hides his face.

KNIGHT VS TYGRR

“Ilya is alive,” I hear myself saying.

“Yes. He's an active fighter.”

"How did you even remember the details?" I ask him. "I barely told you anything."

"You told me enough. I don't forget much."

I flip through the pages too quickly, then force myself to go back, to look at the picture of him, taller, stronger, even more heavily scarred than he was before.

The one along his ribs, the one Ivan gave him the day everything changed, is lit up by the flash as if it was meant for my eyes to confirm it's truly him.

I've imagined him dead more times than I've allowed myself to imagine him alive.

It was easier that way.

"What about Cosima?" I ask, almost regretting it as soon as the words leave my mouth. "His… well. She would be his mate now, I'm sure."

"I couldn't find anything," Plague admits.

He steps closer, his fingers settling on my hand. He's wearing his fucking leather gloves already. Of course he is.

“If you can forgive us for how poorly the trip to Canada went,” he says quietly, “maybe we could go on another trip one day.”

"Poorly?" I echo, my lips twisting. "Poorly is an understatement."

He clears his throat. "Yes. Well."

I lift my eyes to his, then beyond him.

Across the lot, Whiskey stands casually beside the brightly painted Cup van, pretending he isn’t looking for us. Ivy has climbed onto Wraith’s back, yawning, nuzzling into his dark hair, which is not a good sign for my plans for the nest later. Wraith is still stuck in a wave-off with my nephew, his other arm supporting Ivy. And Thane is arguing with my father over how to exit the parking lot without ending up on the wrong highway.

It's a fight he'll lose, too. My father is a stubborn fuck.

"Perhaps," I murmur, distantly.

Right now, my family is waiting for us.

Both of them.

Chapter 96

Epilogue: Ivy

Three Years Later

Iwatch the war on the ice through my fingers.

It's the only way I can watch. The alternative is the JumboTron, which is just as likely to show the Demons as the Ghosts as the two teams battle it out with the time running dangerously low.