The world after the claiming was not silence.
It was not peace.
It was not even relief.
It was fire.
Not the fire of denial. Not the fire of the curse, burning through my veins like poison. But the fire of completion—slow, deep, all-consuming. It pulsed through me, not in pain, but in rhythm, in harmony, in something so primal it felt older than blood, older than magic, older than the Hollow name itself. My skin still hummed where Kaelen had touched me, where he’d filled me, where he’d bitten the sigil over my heart and sealed me to him with his blood and breath and fangs.
I lay in his arms, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, his fingers tracing the fresh bite on my breast—the one that now glowed faintly, a brand of fire and thorn fused with storm and iron. The glass cell was shattered. The runes had cracked. The observers were gone. My grandmother and Selene had vanished the moment the bond flared, their expressions unreadable—shock? Fear? Fury? I didn’t care. All that mattered was this: the weight of his body over mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck, the quiet, unshakable truth that I had chosen him. And he had chosen me.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because we wanted to.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice rough, still edged with the aftermath of release.
“I never really slept,” I said, lifting my head. My body ached—in the best way. Tender. Satisfied. Claimed. But not broken. Not controlled. Not by them. Not by the curse. Not even by the bond. I had given myself. Freely. Fully. And gods, it had never felt so right.
He looked down at me—really looked at me—and for the first time since I’d stepped into this fortress, I didn’t see a predator. Didn’t see an Alpha. Didn’t see the man who had once growled, *“You are mine until death.”*
I saw my mate.
And he saw me.
Not a weapon. Not a pawn. Not a cursed bloodline waiting to die.
As me.
“They’ll come for us,” I said, my voice low. “My grandmother. Selene. They won’t let this stand. Not after what we just did.”
“Let them,” he said, his hand rising to my cheek, his thumb brushing my lip. “They wanted to break us. To force you to choose between me and your life. But you didn’t choose between us. You chose us. And that’s what they don’t understand.”
“What?” I asked.
“That love isn’t weakness,” he said. “It’s the only thing that makes us stronger.”
I didn’t answer.
Just leaned in—and kissed him.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat. His lips met mine, not with hunger, not with need, but with something deeper—something like home. The bond flared, not with denial, not with desperation, but with belonging. I could feel it—his love, his relief, his surrender. And I gave it back. My trust, my fear, my truth—pouring into him like a river.
When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths ragged, he spoke.
“I’m not done,” he said.
“Done with what?”
“Marking you,” he said, his gold eyes burning. “I bit the sigil. I claimed you in fire and blood. But I haven’t marked you as my mate. Not fully. Not in front of the world.”
My breath caught.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “I know I’m yours. You don’t need to prove it.”
“It’s not about proof,” he said. “It’s about declaration. About showing every wolf, every vampire, every Fae who dares to doubt us—that you are my queen. That you are my equal. That you are not just bound by magic, but chosen by me. In front of the pack. In front of the moon. In front of the gods.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from fear.
Not from doubt.
But from something deeper.
Worth.
He wasn’t just claiming me.
He was honoring me.
And gods, I loved him for it.
“When?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he said. “At moonrise. In the Heart Grove. Where the oldest oaks stand. Where the pack gathers for oaths and trials. Where the bond is sealed not in shadow, but in light.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’ll be there,” I said. “Not because the bond demands it. Not because the curse forces me. But because I choose you. Every time.”
He didn’t smile.
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.
We returned to the fortress in silence.
Not because we had nothing to say.
But because we didn’t need to.
The bond hummed between us, warm and steady, a current of fire and storm that needed no words. The sentries stepped aside as we passed, their eyes wide, their breaths held. They could feel it—the shift in power, the change in the air, the way the magic itself seemed to bow to us. Riven was waiting in the war room, his dark eyes sharp, his posture tense.
“They’ve gone,” he said. “The Hollow Witch. Selene. Their agents. Vanished. No trace.”
“They’ll be back,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. “But not tonight. Tonight belongs to us.”
Riven looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, I didn’t see suspicion. Didn’t see doubt. Didn’t see the half-blood witch who had once been a threat.
I saw respect.
“The pack is gathering,” he said. “Word has spread. They know what happened. They know you completed the bond.”
“And?” I asked.
“And they’re waiting,” he said. “To see what you do next.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned to Kaelen. “Then let’s give them a show.”
He didn’t smile.
Just reached for my hand.
And I took it.
The Heart Grove was ancient—older than the fortress, older than the Northern Pack itself. A circle of towering oaks, their bark blackened by centuries of fire and storm, their roots twisting deep into the mountain’s heart. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the ground carpeted in moss, the sky just beginning to darken as the moon climbed over the peaks. The pack had already gathered—silent, still, watching. Warriors. Sentinels. Omegas. Even the young ones, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow. They stood in a ring around the central stone—a flat, weathered slab where oaths were sworn, where trials were held, where bonds were sealed.
And at the center—
Kaelen.
He stood tall, his gold eyes burning, his presence a wall of storm and iron. He wore no armor. No crown. Just leather and steel, his body a weapon, his scent rich and male, calling to me, claiming me. And when he saw me—
He stepped forward.
Not to me.
But to the pack.
“You all know why we’re here,” he said, his voice low, steady. “You know the bond is complete. You know the curse is weakening. You know the Hollow Witch and Selene have tried to break us. To control us. To make us doubt.”
The pack stirred. A low growl rose from the back.
“But they failed,” he continued. “Because Garnet is not a pawn. Not a weapon. Not a cursed bloodline waiting to die. She is my mate. My queen. And tonight, I will mark her—not in shadow, not in silence, but in front of you all. Not because the bond demands it. Not because the curse forces me. But because I choose to. Because I love her. Because she is worthy.”
Silence.
Heavy. Thick. Real.
And then—
He turned to me.
And held out his hand.
I didn’t hesitate.
I stepped forward, my boots silent on the moss, my head high, my heart pounding. I wore a simple dress of deep garnet silk, the fabric clinging to my curves, the neckline low, revealing the sigil over my heart—the one he had already claimed. My hair was loose, wild, framing my face. My fangs ached. My claws itched. My magic hummed beneath my skin, not with denial, but with pride.
And when I reached him—
I didn’t look down.
Just took his hand.
He didn’t speak.
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 then—
He did it.
He leaned down—and bit me.
Not on the neck.
Not on the shoulder.
On the pulse point just below my ear.
His fangs pierced my skin—slow, deliberate, ritualistic. Not to claim me in passion. Not to mark me in desperation. But to honor me. To declare to the world that I was his. That I had chosen him. That I was not just bound by magic, but by love.
I gasped—sharp, broken—not from pain, but from completion. The bond flared, not with denial, not with resistance, but with truth. My magic surged, fire spiraling up my arms, lightning crackling at my fingertips, the air thick with ozone. The pack roared—not in anger, not in defiance, but in approval.
And when he pulled back, his lips glistening with my blood, his gold eyes burning into mine—he didn’t growl.
He whispered.
“You’re mine,” he said. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. Because you chose to be.”
“I did,” I whispered, my hands rising to his face, my fingers tracing his jaw. “And I’ll choose you. Every time.”
He didn’t smile.
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 didn’t disperse.
They stayed.
And then—
One by one.
They knelt.
Not to Kaelen.
Not to the Alpha.
But to me.
The warriors. The sentinels. The omegas. Even the young ones. They bowed their heads, their hands over their hearts, their voices rising in a single, unified chant.
“Queen. Queen. Queen.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from pride.
Not from power.
But from something deeper.
Belonging.
I looked up at Kaelen.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a threat.
I saw a future.
And I knew—
We weren’t just mates.
We were partners.
And no lie could ever break that.
Later, as we stood beneath the moon, his arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder, he spoke.
“They’ll come for us,” he said. “My grandmother. Selene. They won’t stop.”
“Let them,” I said. “We’ve already won.”
“How?” he asked.
“Because we chose each other,” I said. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because we love each other. And that’s something they can’t control. Can’t curse. Can’t break.”
He didn’t answer.
Just 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 who I was meant to be, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t just surviving.
I was alive.
And I would fight—
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.