The wound throbbed like a second heartbeat.
Not sharp. Not fresh. But deep—burning beneath the skin, a constant reminder of the blade, the fall, the darkness that had swallowed me whole. Dr. Vale’s poultices had sealed the tear, his incantations had neutralized the venom, but the ache remained. A ghost of silver and Southern malice. A scar already forming, not just in flesh, but in memory.
I sat up slowly, the sheets slipping from my shoulders, my body stiff, my magic still weak. The fortress was quiet, the torches flickering low, the air thick with the scent of healing herbs and something darker—Kaelen’s rage, simmering beneath the stone. He’d left hours ago to pass judgment on the Southern Alpha. The pack had roared their approval. Exile had been declared. No blood spilled in retribution. Not yet.
But I knew—
This wasn’t over.
Not for him.
Not for me.
Not for the curse.
The sigil on my chest glowed faintly, pulsing in time with my pulse. Kaelen’s bite still marked the brand of fire and thorn, his blood sealed into my veins like a vow. He hadn’t completed the bond. Hadn’t claimed me on the neck. Hadn’t marked me as his mate in the full, irreversible way. But it didn’t matter. The bond was different now. Not just magic. Not just blood. But sacrifice.
I had chosen him.
And I had nearly died for it.
And still, I would do it again.
A knock echoed at the door—soft, hesitant. Not Kaelen. Not Riven. Too light.
“Enter,” I said, voice rough.
The door opened, and Lyra stepped inside, her violet eyes wide, her breath shallow. She didn’t speak at first. Just looked at me—really looked at me—her gaze tracing the bandages beneath my tunic, the pallor of my skin, the way my fingers trembled as I reached for the water on the nightstand.
“You’re awake,” she said, stepping closer.
“Barely,” I said, sipping the water. It tasted of ash and iron. “How long was I out?”
“Twelve hours,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Kaelen didn’t leave your side. Not once. Not even when the pack called for judgment.”
I didn’t answer.
Just looked down at my hands—pale, calloused, still stained with dried blood. I remembered the moment before the blade. The Southern Alpha lunging. Kaelen turning. Me stepping forward. No thought. No hesitation. Just instinct.
Protect him.
Save him.
Choose him.
And now?
Now I was the one who needed saving.
“He loves you,” Lyra said, voice quiet. “Not just because of the bond. Not just because of the curse. But because you’re the only one who’s ever looked at him and seen him. Not the Alpha. Not the monster. Not the tyrant.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew it was true.
And gods, it terrified me.
“The Southern Alpha is exiled,” she said. “But his warriors are still in the lower corridors. They’re restless. Talking. Saying Kaelen is weak. That he’s ruled by a hybrid witch. That the Northern Pack is doomed.”
My fangs ached.
“And what do you say?” I asked.
She didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze, her eyes fierce. “I say they’re wrong. That Kaelen is stronger than ever. That you’re not a weakness. You’re his power. And if they can’t see that—”
“—then they’ll learn,” I said, standing. My legs were unsteady, my body weak, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my dagger from the hearth, the silver cold against my palm. “Where is he?”
“The war room,” she said. “He’s planning. Preparing. He knows they won’t accept exile. They’ll come for him. For you.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Just walked.
One foot. Then the other. My body aching, my magic flickering, my will unbroken. The fortress halls were silent, the sentries stiff, their eyes wide as I passed. They knew what I’d done. They knew what I was. And still, they stepped aside.
Because I wasn’t just Garnet Hollow.
I was their queen.
And I wasn’t going to let anyone take what was mine.
The war room door was open, the fire crackling, the maps spread across the table. Kaelen stood at the center, his back to me, his shoulders tense, his scent—storm and iron—spiking with focus. Riven was beside him, pointing at the border lines, his voice low, his expression grim.
“They’ll come at dawn,” Riven said. “Not with honor. Not with challenge. With ambush. They’ll use the ravine. Cut off the eastern sentries. Hit the supply lines.”
Kaelen didn’t react. Just studied the map, his gold eyes burning. “Then we’ll be ready. Double the sentries. Seal the ravine. And if they breach the perimeter—”
“—we kill them,” I said, stepping inside.
Both men turned.
Riven’s eyes widened. “You shouldn’t be up.”
“I’m not staying in bed while they plot to destroy everything we’ve built,” I said, walking to the table. My legs trembled, but I didn’t let it show. I placed my hands on the map, my fingers tracing the border lines. “They think Kaelen is weak because he loves me. They think I’m a curse. A liability. A weapon they can break.”
Kaelen stepped closer, his hand rising to my back, his touch grounding. “You’re not fighting,” he said. “Not like this. Not injured.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked, turning to him. “If I hide? If I let you face them alone? Then they win. They prove their point. That I’m not your equal. That I’m not your queen.”
His jaw tightened.
“You are,” he said. “But I won’t risk you.”
“You already did,” I said, pressing my palm to his chest, over his heart. “When you let me walk into the Moonfire Hall. When you let me fight beside you. When you let me choose you.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something fragile, something precious. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
“Then don’t make me choose between you and who I am,” I said, lifting my head. “I’m not just your mate. I’m not just your queen. I’m an Alpha. And I will fight beside you. Not behind you. Not beneath you. Beside you.”
He looked into my eyes—really looked at me.
And for the first time, I didn’t see fear.
I saw pride.
“Then we fight together,” he said. “As equals.”
I smiled—slow, dangerous, feral.
“Good.”
The night passed like a storm.
We prepared in silence, the fortress humming with tension, the sentries moving like shadows, the wards flaring at every shift in the wind. I trained—slow at first, my body still weak, my magic flickering. But with each step, each strike, each breath, I grew stronger. The sigil on my chest glowed, pulsing with power, Kaelen’s blood singing in my veins. I wasn’t just healing.
I was awakening.
At dawn, we stood at the border field.
The sky was pale, the air crisp with the scent of frost and blood, the earth still damp from last night’s storm. The Northern Pack waited behind us—silent, still, watching. The Southern warriors approached from the east, a wall of muscle and fury, their eyes wild, their fangs bared, their claws out.
And at their center—
The Southern Alpha.
Exiled. Defiant. Alive.
He stopped ten paces away, his gaze locking onto mine. “So the hybrid witch lives,” he said, voice low. “The cursed bloodline who thinks she can rule us.”
I didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, my dagger in hand, my magic flaring, fire spiraling up my arms. “You think I’m weak because I’m cursed? You think I’m less because I’m hybrid? You’re wrong.”
He laughed—low, rough, mocking. “And what are you, little witch, to challenge me?”
“I’m not challenging you,” I said, stepping even closer. “I’m warning you. Kaelen isn’t weak. He’s not soft. He’s not broken. He’s stronger than you’ll ever be. And if you think you can take what’s his—”
“—you’ll have to go through me,” I finished, my voice rising. “And I’ll make you regret the day you ever doubted us.”
The Southern Alpha snarled, his claws extending. “Then prove it.”
Kaelen stepped forward, his body a wall between us. “The fight is mine,” he said, voice low. “But the victory will be ours.”
And then—
They moved.
Not with words. Not with threats.
With blood.
The Southern Alpha lunged, fast and brutal, his claws slashing through the air. Kaelen dodged, his body a blur of motion, his fist slamming into the other Alpha’s ribs. Bones cracked. The Southern Alpha roared, swinging again, his fangs bared. Kaelen blocked, twisted, and drove his knee into the man’s gut. He staggered back, blood dripping from his lip, his eyes wild with rage.
And then he did it.
He called for his warriors.
“Take them!” he snarled. “Kill the hybrid! Claim the Alpha!”
Chaos erupted.
The Southern warriors charged, snarling, fangs bared, claws out. The Northern Pack met them, a wall of muscle and fury, the clash of bodies echoing across the field. I didn’t hesitate. I drew my dagger, my magic flaring, fire spiraling up my arms, my skin glowing garnet-red. I moved—fast, precise, deadly—cutting through the chaos, protecting Kaelen’s back, striking down any who came too close.
And then—
I saw it.
The Southern Alpha, behind Kaelen, dagger in hand, raising it high.
“Kaelen!” I screamed.
He turned.
But not fast enough.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t reason.
I just moved.
One step. Then another. My body a shield. The dagger plunged into my side, searing through flesh, bone, magic. I gasped, my body arching, my vision whiting out. The world tilted. The bond screamed. And then—
Darkness.
The last thing I heard was Kaelen’s roar—raw, broken, devastated.
And then—
Nothing.
Wait.
No.
That wasn’t right.
I hadn’t been stabbed again.
I was here.
Alive.
Standing.
The memory wasn’t real.
It was a ghost. A shadow. A warning.
And I wasn’t going to let it stop me.
I lunged.
Not at the Southern Alpha.
But at the warrior lunging for Kaelen’s back.
My dagger found his throat. Blood sprayed. He fell. I didn’t stop. I spun, fire erupting from my palms, sending two more warriors flying. The bond flared—hot, insistent—fueling my magic, my strength, my rage. I wasn’t just fighting for survival.
I was fighting for him.
Kaelen was a storm—fast, brutal, relentless. His claws tore through flesh, his fangs shattered bone, his body a weapon of pure dominance. He fought like a man who had nothing left to lose. And gods, he was magnificent.
And I was his equal.
I moved beside him—fluid, precise, deadly. Fire and steel. Storm and iron. We fought as one, our movements synchronized, our bond humming, our will unbroken. The Southern warriors fell. One by one. Their numbers thinned. Their fury turned to fear.
And then—
The Southern Alpha saw it.
He saw us.
Not as Alpha and mate.
Not as ruler and subject.
But as partners.
And he broke.
He turned to run.
But I was faster.
I leapt, my dagger flashing, my body crashing into his. We hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. He snarled, swinging, his claws raking my arm. I didn’t flinch. I drove my knee into his gut, twisted, and pressed my dagger to his throat.
“Yield,” I growled.
He didn’t answer. Just glared, his eyes wild with hate.
“Yield,” I said again, pressing the blade deeper. “Or I’ll kill you where you lie.”
He spat in my face.
I didn’t blink.
Just looked down at him—really looked at him.
And then I did it.
I reached into my tunic and pulled out the vial Dr. Vale had given me—the one containing a drop of Kaelen’s blood. It glowed faintly, pulsing with magic.
“This will activate the dormant sigil,” I said, uncorking the vial. “The one that proves I’m not just a Hollow witch. That I’m not just a cursed hybrid. That I’m an Alpha.”
He didn’t understand.
But Kaelen did.
“Garnet,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” I said, pouring the blood onto the sigil on my wrist.
For a heartbeat—nothing.
Then—
Fire.
Not pain. Not denial. Not the jagged edge of resistance.
Power.
It exploded through me like a supernova, searing through my veins, my bones, my magic. I screamed—raw, broken—as the sigil flared, spreading up my arm, across my chest, down my spine. My vision whited out. My body arched. My fangs lengthened. My claws extended.
And then I shifted.
Not fully. Not like a pureblood werewolf. But enough.
My senses sharpened. My strength surged. My magic roared to life, not as fire, but as storm—lightning crackling at my fingertips, wind howling around me, the air thick with ozone. The Southern Alpha beneath me trembled. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.
And then I did it.
I leaned down—and whispered in his ear.
“You see now?” I said, my voice low, feral. “You see why he’s not weak? Why I’m not a curse? Why we are unstoppable?”
He didn’t answer.
Just nodded—once, faint, broken.
“Then yield,” I said. “And live.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“I yield,” he said, voice rough. “To you. To him. To the Northern Pack.”
I stood slowly, my body humming with power, my eyes blazing violet. The battlefield was silent. The Northern warriors stood like sentinels, their eyes wide, their breaths held. The Southern warriors knelt. The Southern Alpha crawled to his knees, his head bowed.
And then—
Kaelen stepped forward.
He didn’t look at the Southern Alpha. Didn’t look at the pack. Just looked at me.
And in his eyes, I saw it.
Not pride.
Not relief.
Love.
He reached out—slow, deliberate—and brushed his thumb over my cheek. The sigil on his wrist flared, warm and bright. “You did it,” he said. “You proved it. Not just to them. To me.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” I said, stepping into his arms. “I did it with you.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something fragile, something precious. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
And for the first time since I’d walked into this fortress, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t here to destroy him.
I was here to save him.
From her.
From the lie.
From me.
And maybe—just maybe—I was saving myself too.
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 him.
For us.
For every breath, every touch, every claim.
Because the curse wasn’t just in my 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 want him.
Because I did.
Not just to survive.
Not just to break the curse.
But because he saw me. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. Not as a cursed hybrid.
As me.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.