The world ended when she fell.
Not with fire. Not with war. Not with the roar of the Southern Alpha’s warriors or the clash of steel on steel. But with a single breath—a gasp, sharp and broken—as Garnet stepped in front of me, her body arching, her violet eyes wide with shock, the hilt of the dagger protruding from her side.
Time stopped.
Sound vanished.
All I could see was her. The way her lips parted. The way her fingers twitched, reaching for me. The way her magic flared one last time—fire and storm spiraling up her arms—before it flickered out like a dying flame.
And then she was gone.
I didn’t remember moving. Didn’t remember roaring, didn’t remember tearing through the Southern Alpha’s warriors like they were made of paper. I only remembered holding her—cradling her in my arms, her blood hot and slick on my hands, her breath shallow, fading, slipping through my fingers like sand.
“No,” I growled, pressing my palm to the wound. “No, no, no—stay with me, Garnet. Stay with me.”
She didn’t answer. Just looked up at me, her eyes glassy, her lips moving soundlessly. I leaned down, my ear to her mouth, and caught it—just once, a whisper so faint it could have been the wind.
“I choose you.”
And then she went still.
The battle ended in silence. The Southern warriors broke. The Northern Pack stood like sentinels, their eyes wide, their breaths held. The Southern Alpha was on his knees, his face bloodied, his dagger empty, his eyes locked on me—not with defiance, but with something worse.
Fear.
And gods, I gave it to him.
I didn’t kill him. Not then. Not in front of the pack. Not in front of the world. Because if I did it now, it would be for revenge. And I wasn’t my father.
But I would make him pay.
I stood, cradling Garnet in my arms, her body limp, her scent—spiced fire, wild thyme—fading beneath the coppery tang of blood. I turned to Riven, my voice low, raw, barely human.
“Take him. Lock him in the deepest cell. No food. No water. No light. He’ll face the pack’s judgment at dawn.”
Riven didn’t hesitate. Just nodded, his dark eyes sharp with understanding. He’d seen what I’d seen. He knew what Garnet had done. What she’d sacrificed.
And he knew—
She wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
I carried her through the fortress, my strides long, my grip unyielding. The sentries stepped aside. The torches flickered. The air thickened with the scent of ozone and something darker—my rage, my grief, my vow. She was still breathing. Shallow. Faint. But there. And as long as she drew breath, I would fight for her.
Dr. Elias Vale was waiting in her chamber, his silver cane tapping against the stone, his sharp eyes scanning her the moment I laid her on the bed. He didn’t speak. Just moved—fast, precise, pulling vials from his satchel, unrolling bandages, muttering incantations under his breath.
“The blade was silver,” he said, cutting away her tunic, revealing the wound—a jagged tear just below her ribs, blackening at the edges. “Treated with Southern venom. It’s slowing her healing. Her magic’s fighting it, but it’s weak.”
“Can you save her?” I asked, my voice rough.
He didn’t look at me. Just pressed a glowing poultice to the wound. “I can try. But she’s lost a lot of blood. And the curse—”
“—is still there,” I finished. “I know.”
He glanced up. “You know she’ll die if the bond isn’t completed before Beltane.”
“I know,” I said. “And I’ll make sure it is.”
He didn’t argue. Just worked, his hands steady, his voice low. “You should leave. This won’t be quick. And you won’t want to see—”
“I’m not leaving,” I said, stepping closer. “Not until she wakes. Not until she’s safe.”
He didn’t push. Just nodded, and for the first time, I saw it—something like respect in his eyes.
Because I wasn’t the Alpha now.
I was a man.
A man who had just watched the woman he loved take a blade meant for him.
And I would burn the world before I let her go.
The hours passed like centuries.
Vale worked in silence, his incantations weaving through the air, his potions bubbling, his hands moving with the precision of a surgeon. I sat beside the bed, my hand wrapped around hers, my thumb brushing the sigil on her wrist—still warm, still pulsing, still alive. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her skin was pale. Her fangs had retracted. But her magic—faint, flickering—still hummed beneath her skin, like a storm refusing to die.
And I knew—
She was fighting.
Not for the pack. Not for the throne. Not even for the bond.
For me.
And gods, I would make it worth it.
“She’s stable,” Vale said at last, wiping his hands on a cloth. “The venom’s neutralized. The wound’s closing. But she’s weak. She’ll need time. And rest.”
“And the curse?” I asked.
He hesitated. “It’s still active. But… it’s different. Weaker. Like something’s changed.”
My breath stilled.
“What do you mean?”
“The bond,” he said. “It’s not just surviving. It’s healing. Like her sacrifice—her choice to protect you—has altered it. Not broken it. But… softened it.”
I looked down at her—really looked at her.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a weapon.
Not a pawn.
Not a cursed hybrid.
Just a woman.
A woman who had chosen me. Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because she loved me.
And I had spent my life believing love was weakness.
That emotion was a flaw.
That an Alpha could not afford to need.
But she had proven me wrong.
She had stepped in front of a blade.
She had bled for me.
She had whispered, *“I choose you,”* as the darkness took her.
And in that moment, I knew—
Love wasn’t weakness.
It was the only thing that made me strong.
Vale left quietly, his cane tapping against the stone. The chamber was silent now, the torches flickering, the bond humming between us—warm, steady, alive. I didn’t lie down. Didn’t close my eyes. Just sat there, my hand wrapped around hers, watching the rise and fall of her chest, feeling the faint pulse of her magic.
And then—
She stirred.
Not much. Just a twitch of her fingers. A flutter of her lashes. But it was enough.
“Garnet,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Can you hear me?”
Her lips parted. A sound—faint, broken. My name.
“I’m here,” I said, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m not leaving. I’ll never leave.”
Her eyes opened—just slits, glassy, unfocused. But they found mine. And in them, I saw it.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Trust.
“You’re alive,” I said, my voice breaking. “You’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t speak. Just reached up, her fingers brushing my cheek, her touch so light it could have been a dream. But it was real. She was real. And she was mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “For everything. For doubting you. For locking myself away. For not marking you. For not—”
“—for loving me,” she finished, her voice weak, but clear. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
My chest tightened.
“You saved me,” I said. “You stepped in front of that blade. You could have died.”
“And you would have,” she said, her fingers tightening on my cheek. “And I couldn’t live with that. Not after everything. Not after finally choosing you.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“I thought I was protecting you,” I said. “By not marking you. By holding back. But I was just protecting myself. From the truth. From how much I need you. From how much I love you.”
She didn’t answer.
Just pulled me down, her lips brushing mine—soft, faint, real. The bond flared, not with need, not with denial, but with something deeper.
Belonging.
When she pulled back, her eyes were clearer, her breath steadier. “You love me,” she said, not a question, but a statement. “You finally said it.”
“I do,” I said, my voice rough. “Gods help me, Garnet, I do. I’ve been afraid to say it. Afraid it would make me weak. Afraid it would make me like him. But you’ve shown me—love isn’t weakness. It’s the only thing that makes me strong.”
She smiled—just once, faint, fleeting—and it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
And then she did it.
She reached up, her fingers tracing the scar across my chest—the one from the Iron Clan battle, the one that ran from my collarbone to my ribs. “You’re not him,” she said. “You’re not your father. You’re not a monster. You’re my mate. And I’m not letting you go.”
My breath hitched.
“And if the fever comes?” I asked. “If the bond screams? If I lose control?”
“Then I’ll hold you,” she said. “I’ll remind you who you are. And if you try to take me—”
She leaned up, her lips brushing my ear. “Then I’ll make you ask.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Because she believed it.
Not because I was strong. Not because I was in control.
But because I was hers.
And she was mine.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
And no lie could ever break that.
We stayed like that for a long time—wrapped in each other, the fire crackling, the bond humming between us, warm and steady. She drifted in and out of sleep, her breath soft against my neck, her fingers still tangled in mine. I didn’t move. Didn’t close my eyes. Just held her, my body shielding her from the world, my heart beating in time with hers.
And then—
Riven knocked.
Not hard. Not urgent.
But precise.
“Enter,” I said, voice low.
The door opened, and he stepped inside, his expression grim. “The Southern Alpha is ready for judgment. The pack’s assembled. They’re waiting.”
I looked down at Garnet. She was asleep, her face peaceful, her breathing even. She didn’t need me to fight. Didn’t need me to prove myself. She’d already done that for me.
But the pack needed to see.
Needed to know their Alpha wasn’t broken. That he wasn’t weak. That he would protect what was his.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
Riven hesitated. “She’s still weak. You shouldn’t leave her.”
“I won’t be long,” I said. “And she’s not alone. The wards are strong. The sentries are posted. No one gets near her.”
He nodded. “And the Southern Alpha? What will you do?”
I looked down at Garnet—really looked at her.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a threat.
I saw a future.
“I won’t kill him,” I said. “Not today. But he’ll face the pack. He’ll answer for what he did. And if they demand exile—”
“—then he’ll be gone,” Riven finished.
I stood slowly, careful not to wake her. I brushed a strand of hair from her face, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered. “I promise.”
She didn’t answer. Just smiled in her sleep—faint, peaceful, mine.
The judgment hall was packed.
Every Northern warrior, every sentinel, every omega—gathered in silence, their eyes sharp, their breaths held. The Southern Alpha knelt in the center, his hands bound, his head bowed, his face bloodied. The air was thick with tension, with the weight of loyalty and betrayal, with the unspoken question:
Was their Alpha still strong?
Was he still worthy?
I walked in slow, my steps echoing, my presence a wall of storm and iron. I didn’t look at the Southern Alpha. Didn’t look at the pack. Just walked to the dais and turned, my gold eyes scanning the room.
And then I spoke.
“You all saw what happened today,” I said, voice low, steady. “You saw the Southern Alpha challenge me. You saw him break the truce. You saw him order his warriors to kill a woman who stood beside me not because of magic, not because of blood, but because she chose to.”
The pack stirred. A low growl rose from the back.
“And you saw what she did,” I continued. “You saw her step in front of a blade meant for me. You saw her bleed for me. You saw her whisper, *‘I choose you,’* as the darkness took her.”
Silence.
Heavy. Thick. Real.
“She is not my queen because I named her,” I said. “She is my queen because she proved it. With her blood. With her sacrifice. With her love.”
I turned to the Southern Alpha, my voice dropping to a growl. “And you. You thought I was weak because I love her. You thought I was soft because I don’t rule through fear. But you were wrong. I am not weak. I am not soft. I am not broken.”
I stepped closer, my shadow falling over him. “I am strong because I have her. Because I have love. And if you ever threaten what’s mine again—”
“—you won’t face me,” I said. “You’ll face her.”
The pack roared.
Not in anger. Not in defiance.
In approval.
And I knew—
They saw it too.
They saw the truth.
That love wasn’t weakness.
That it wasn’t a flaw.
It was power.
And I would wield it.
For her.
For us.
For every breath, every touch, every claim.
Because the curse wasn’t just in her blood.
It was in my heart.
And the only way to break it was to stop running.
To stop fighting.
To stop pretending I didn’t need her.
Because I did.
Not just to survive.
Not just to break the curse.
But because she saw me. Not as a monster. Not as a tyrant. Not as my father’s shadow.
As me.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.
I returned to her chamber in silence, the bond humming between us, warm and steady. When I stepped inside, she was awake, sitting up, her violet eyes sharp, her body tense.
“You were gone,” she said.
“I had to go,” I said, crossing the room. “I had to show them. That I’m not weak. That I’m not broken. That I’m still their Alpha.”
She didn’t answer.
Just reached for me.
And I went.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her like I was something fragile, something precious. She didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried her face in my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, her fingers brushing the cut on my lip.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“It’s not nothing,” she said. “You fought for me. And I wasn’t there.”
“You were,” I said. “You’re always with me. In here.” I pressed her hand to my chest, over my heart. “And no one will ever take you from me again.”
She looked up, her eyes searching mine. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me,” she said, “that no matter what happens, no matter how much the bond screams, no matter how much you want to take me—you’ll wait. You’ll let me come to you. You’ll let me choose you. Every time.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I promise,” I said. “On my life. On my soul. On my blood. I’ll wait. I’ll let you choose me. Every time.”
She smiled—just once, faint, fleeting—and it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
And then she did it.
She leaned in—and kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat.
The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Peace.
Finally.
And for the first time since I’d become Alpha, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t a monster.
That I wasn’t my father.
That I was worthy.
Not of power.
Not of fear.
But of love.
And she was mine.
And I was hers.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
And no lie could ever break that.