The victory should have tasted like fire.
Instead, it left ash on my tongue.
We stood at the edge of the battlefield, the morning sun bleeding gold across the bloodstained earth, the Northern Pack roaring behind us, their voices a thunderous tide of approval. The Southern Alpha knelt in the dirt, head bowed, hands bound. His warriors had surrendered. Their defiance was broken. And I—wounded, aching, still trembling from the surge of power that had ripped through me—had stood over him, unbroken. Unbowed. Unafraid.
Kaelen had looked at me like I was the sun rising after a lifetime of storm.
And gods, I wanted to believe it meant something.
That we’d won.
That the curse was weakening. That the bond was no longer a chain, but a vow. That love—raw, reckless, chosen—was enough to defy fate, blood, and centuries of lies.
But the moment we stepped back into the fortress, the air changed.
Not with tension. Not with threat.
With recognition.
It hit me like a blade to the chest—familiar, ancient, laced with the scent of dried roses and blood. My breath caught. My fangs ached. My sigil flared, not with Kaelen’s storm, but with something darker, older—hers.
And then I heard it.
A whisper on the wind.
“Daughter.”
Not from behind me.
Not from the shadows.
From inside.
From the blood.
I stopped dead in the hall, my hand flying to my chest, my heart hammering. Kaelen turned, his gold eyes narrowing. “Garnet? What is it?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because I knew.
She was here.
Not a memory.
Not a ghost.
Alive.
“She’s back,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “My grandmother. The Hollow Witch. She’s here.”
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. His body shifted instantly—Alpha, protector, predator. He stepped in front of me, his scent flooding the corridor, storm and iron and warning. “Where?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my breath shallow. “But she’s close. I can feel her. In my blood. In my bones. Like she’s been there all along.”
Riven appeared at the end of the hall, his dark eyes sharp. “We’ve secured the fortress. No intruders. No breaches.”
“She wouldn’t need to breach,” I said, stepping around Kaelen. “She’s blood. She’s magic. She’s part of me.”
And then—
The library doors groaned open.
Not forced.
Not broken.
As if they’d been waiting.
We moved as one—Kaelen, Riven, me—our steps silent, our weapons drawn. The library was vast, a cathedral of stone and shadow, its shelves stretching into darkness, its air thick with the scent of old parchment and something sharper—ozone, like the moment before lightning strikes. And in the center, beneath the shattered skylight where moonlight still pooled like liquid silver, stood a figure.
Small. Frail. Cloaked in black.
But her eyes—
Violet.
Just like mine.
“Grandmother,” I said, my voice hollow.
She turned.
And time stopped.
She looked exactly as I remembered—though I’d only seen her in a single portrait, hidden beneath my mother’s floorboards. Pale skin. Sharp cheekbones. Hair like spun silver, cascading past her waist. But her eyes—once bright, fierce—were now clouded with something ancient, something hungry. And around her, the air shimmered, not with magic, but with presence. As if the world bent to her will.
“Garnet,” she said, her voice a whisper, yet it filled the room. “You’ve grown.”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” I said, my dagger trembling in my hand. “Mother said you died when I was a child.”
She smiled—thin, cold. “And you believed her?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I snapped. “She told me to run. To hide. To never let a Thorne mark me. She said it was the only way to survive.”
“And did it work?” she asked, stepping forward. “Did running save her? Did hiding save you?”
My breath hitched.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I said, my voice breaking. “You abandoned us. You left us to die.”
“I left you to live,” she said, her voice sharp. “To grow. To become what you were meant to be. But you’ve been fighting it. Denying it. Pretending you’re not what you are.”
“And what am I?” I asked, stepping closer. “A weapon? A pawn? A cursed bloodline waiting to die?”
“You’re an Alpha,” she said. “A queen. The last true heir of the Hollow Bloodline. And you’ve been running from your destiny since the day you were born.”
Kaelen stepped forward, his voice low, dangerous. “You have no right to speak to her. Not after what you did. Not after the curse you forged.”
She turned to him, her gaze like ice. “Ah. Kaelen Thorne. The last of a dying line. The son of a tyrant. And yet… you’re not like him, are you? You love her.”
He didn’t flinch. “I do.”
“And that’s why you’ll fail,” she said. “Love is not strength. It is vulnerability. It is the crack in the armor. And it will destroy you both.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, stepping between them. “You don’t know what we’ve been through. What we’ve sacrificed.”
“I know everything,” she said. “I’ve been watching. Waiting. Guiding. The curse was never meant to kill you, Garnet. It was meant to bind you. To force the union. To awaken the blood.”
My blood turned to ice.
“You… you made the curse?”
She didn’t deny it. Just nodded, her eyes gleaming. “I forged it when your mother refused the bond. When she chose death over submission. I could not let the bloodline die. So I cursed it. I ensured that every Hollow woman would burn at twenty-seven, would die at thirty—unless she was claimed by a Thorne Alpha.”
“You killed them,” I whispered. “You killed my aunts. My cousins. You killed mother.”
“I gave them a chance,” she said. “And they chose pride over survival. Just like you.”
“And me?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Was I just another pawn? Another sacrifice in your grand design?”
“You were the final piece,” she said. “The one who could break the cycle. The one who could awaken the full power of the bloodline. But only if you completed the bond. Only if you let him claim you.”
“I did,” I said. “We’re bound. We’ve chosen each other. The bond is strong. The curse is weakening.”
“But it’s not complete,” she said, stepping closer. “And until it is, you will die. And so will he.”
“We’ll find another way,” Kaelen growled. “We don’t need your permission. We don’t need your curse.”
She laughed—low, cruel. “You think love breaks curses? You think choice defies blood? You are children playing at war. The bond demands completion. And if you do not complete it by Beltane—”
“—we’ll die,” I finished. “I know.”
“Then do it,” she said. “Let him mark you. Let him claim you. Let the bloodlines unite. And together, you will rule. Not just the Northern Pack. Not just the werewolves. But all supernaturals.”
“And if we refuse?” I asked.
She smiled—thin, cold. “Then I will ensure the curse takes you. And when you’re on your deathbed, screaming as your blood turns to fire, you’ll know—this was your choice. And you will die alone.”
My hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
“You don’t get to decide my fate,” I said, stepping forward. “Not anymore. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your sacrifice. I’m not your legacy. I am Garnet Hollow. I am an Alpha. And I will break this curse—on my terms.”
She didn’t move. Just watched me, her violet eyes gleaming. “You cannot break it. You can only fulfill it. And if you do not… I will make sure someone else does.”
And then—
She turned.
And vanished.
Not with smoke. Not with magic.
As if she’d never been there at all.
The library was silent.
The air still.
But the weight of her words—her presence—lingered like poison.
“She’s working with Selene,” I said, my voice low. “They’re not just allies. They’re partners. Both want me controlled. Both want the bond completed—on their terms.”
Kaelen stepped to me, his hand rising to my cheek. “You don’t have to listen to her. You don’t have to obey.”
“But the curse—”
“—is not stronger than us,” he said, his voice firm. “We’ve already defied it. We’ve already chosen each other. And if she thinks she can break us with fear, she doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know us.”
I looked into his eyes—gold, fierce, unrelenting.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a threat.
I saw a future.
But my grandmother’s voice echoed in my blood.
“You will die at thirty, like your mother.”
And I knew—
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
We returned to my chamber in silence, the bond humming between us, warm and steady. When we reached the door, I didn’t turn away. Didn’t lock it. Just stepped inside—and held out my hand.
“Stay,” I said.
He didn’t hesitate.
He crossed the threshold, closed the door, and pulled me into his arms. I didn’t resist. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For doubting you. For thinking the worst. For letting her get inside my head.”
“You were hurt,” he said. “And she used that. But you fought back. You found the truth. And you stood in front of the Council and claimed me.”
I looked up. “I did.”
“Then let me do the same,” he said.
And he kissed me—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Belonging.
I was his.
And he 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.
Later, as we lay tangled in my sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing the sigil on my wrist, he spoke.
“The Hollow Witch thinks she controls the curse,” he said, voice quiet. “But she doesn’t. It’s not just her magic. It’s ours. And if she thinks she can force us—”
“—she’ll lose,” I said, lifting my head. “Because we’re not her pawns. We’re not her legacy. We’re us.”
He turned to me, his gold eyes burning. “Then let’s show her.”
I smiled—just once, faint, fleeting—and it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
“Then let’s show her,” I said, “what happens when you challenge an Alpha… and her mate.”
But even as I said it, I felt it—deep in my marrow, in my blood, in the very core of me.
The curse.
Not weakening.
Not fading.
Waiting.
And Beltane was coming.
Three weeks.
And if we didn’t complete the bond—
We’d both be dead.