The morning after the Tribunal, the fortress awoke with a new rhythm.
Not the quiet dread that had settled like frost after Torin’s murder. Not the whispering suspicion that had shadowed my every step. But something sharper. Clearer. Like the air after a storm—charged, alive, watchful. The pack moved with purpose. The sentries stood taller. The omegas hummed as they worked. Even the torches seemed to burn brighter, their flames licking at the stone with a hunger I hadn’t seen before.
They knew.
They knew I was innocent.
They knew Selene had tried to destroy me.
And they knew—
Kaelen would burn anyone who tried again.
I stood at the balcony of our chamber, the dawn light spilling over the mountain peaks, painting the sky in streaks of rose and gold. The wind tugged at my hair, wild and untamed, carrying the scent of pine, frost, and something darker—justice, maybe. Or vengeance. I didn’t know which I wanted more. My fingers traced the fresh bite mark just below my ear, the one Kaelen had placed there in the Heart Grove. It still throbbed faintly, a pulse of heat beneath my skin, a reminder that I was claimed. Not by magic. Not by curse. But by choice.
And yet—
I wasn’t satisfied.
Clearing my name wasn’t enough. Surviving the frame job wasn’t enough. Even seeing Selene’s lies unravel in the Tribunal hadn’t been enough.
I wanted her gone.
Not exiled. Not disavowed. Not hidden behind the false elegance of the Crimson Court.
I wanted her broken.
Because she hadn’t just tried to kill me.
She’d tried to break the bond. To shatter the truth. To make me doubt the one man who had never stopped believing in me. And that—
That was unforgivable.
“You’re thinking about her,” Kaelen said, stepping onto the balcony behind me.
I didn’t turn. Just leaned back into the warmth of his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, his scent—storm and iron—wrapping around me like a vow. His hands settled on my hips, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above my waistband, and I shivered—not from cold, but from the sheer rightness of it. Of him. Of us.
“I can’t stop,” I admitted, my voice low. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her standing there in the Tribunal, sipping from that goblet like she’d already won. Like she knew she could lie, and they’d believe her. Like she thought she could take you from me.”
His arms tightened. “She failed.”
“And she’ll try again,” I said. “She’s not done. My grandmother isn’t done. They’ve been playing this game for decades. They won’t stop now.”
He turned me gently, his gold eyes searching mine. “Then we’ll be ready. We’ll expose her. We’ll make sure the Council sees the truth. And if she tries to run—”
“—we’ll hunt her,” I said, stepping into him, my hands rising to his chest. “Not just to punish her. To end her. Because if we don’t, she’ll keep coming. And next time, she won’t frame me. She’ll kill me. And then what? You’ll burn the world? You’ll die with me? I don’t want that, Kaelen. I want to live. With you. As your queen. As your mate. And I won’t let anyone take that from us.”
He didn’t answer.
Just kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat. His lips met mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lower lip, forcing it open. I moaned—soft, broken—my body arching into his, my fingers clutching his shoulders. The bond flared, not with need, not with denial, but with truth. I could feel it—his love, his relief, his surrender. And I gave it back. My fire, my fury, my need—pouring into him like a river.
When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths ragged, he spoke.
“Then we end it,” he said, his voice rough. “Not with blood. Not with fire. But with truth. We bring the ledger. We show the Council. We make them see what she’s done. And if they won’t act—”
“—we will,” I said. “Together.”
He nodded. “Together.”
We found the Council already in session.
The Tribunal Hall was quiet, the torches flickering low, the air thick with the scent of old magic and something sharper—anticipation. The judges from yesterday had returned, their expressions unreadable, their eyes sharp. And in the center of the dais—
Selene.
She stood alone, dressed in crimson silk that clung to her like blood, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder, her lips painted the same shade. But her usual confidence was gone. Her posture was rigid. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her fingers white-knuckled. And when she saw us—
Her eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Good.
“Garnet Hollow. Kaelen Thorne,” the High Enforcer said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You requested an emergency session.”
“We did,” I said, stepping forward, my head high, my back straight. “To present evidence of conspiracy. To expose the true killer of Elder Torin. And to demand justice.”
“You already cleared her name,” the Iron Clan elder growled. “What more do you want?”
“I want the person who framed her brought to justice,” Kaelen said, stepping beside me. “I want the one who paid the assassin, who planted the dagger, who forged her scent—exposed. And I want the Council to see that this wasn’t just an attack on Garnet. It was an attack on the bond. On peace. On the future we’re trying to build.”
The Tribunal was silent.
And then—
Lyra stepped forward.
She held the ledger—black leather, bound with iron clasps—the one she’d found in the archives. The one that held Selene’s secrets. She didn’t speak. Just placed it on the dais, opened it, and stepped back.
The High Enforcer leaned forward.
And read.
Aloud.
“Payment to assassin ‘Shadowfang’—five thousand blood marks. Purpose: elimination of Elder Torin. Orders issued by Lady Selene of the Crimson Court. Confirmed by Hollow Witch via blood sigil.”
The chamber stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a flicker of flame.
And then—
“Transfer of Garnet Hollow’s dagger from Northern Pack armory to Crimson Court envoy. Scent alteration ritual performed. Orders issued by Lady Selene.”
“Arrangement of false witness—Omega healer from Southern Pack. Payment: three thousand blood marks. Purpose: testimony against Garnet Hollow. Confirmed by Hollow Witch.”
The last entry—
“Final directive: Discredit Garnet Hollow. Break the bond. Ensure completion of Hollow Curse. Success ensures control of Northern Pack and unification of bloodlines under Hollow-Witch rule.”
Silence.
Heavy. Thick. Real.
And then—
Selene laughed.
Low. Sharp. Desperate.
“You think I wrote this?” she said, stepping forward, her voice rising. “You think I—”
“The sigil matches,” the witch from the Circle of Ash said, her voice like dry leaves. “The blood magic is hers. The handwriting—verified by three scribes. This is not a forgery.”
“And the witness?” the Fae representative asked.
“Already in custody,” Lyra said. “He confessed. Said Selene promised him safe passage to the Pale Court. Said she threatened his family if he didn’t cooperate.”
Selene’s face went pale.
But she didn’t break.
Just turned to me, her dark eyes burning. “You think this changes anything? You think this makes you clean? You’re still a Hollow witch. Still cursed. Still going to die at thirty. And when you do—”
“—I’ll be waiting,” I said, stepping forward. “And I’ll be standing over your body, watching the life drain from your eyes. But not today. Today, you answer for what you’ve done.”
“Then let her answer,” the vampire lord said, his pale eyes cold. “Let the Tribunal pass judgment.”
The High Enforcer stood.
“Lady Selene of the Crimson Court,” he said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You stand accused of conspiracy, murder, treason against the Supernatural Council, and manipulation of interspecies law. How do you plead?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Guilty,” she said, her voice low, dangerous. “And I’d do it again. Because you’re all blind. You don’t see what’s coming. The Hollow Curse will rise. The bond will break. And when it does—”
“—you’ll be gone,” I said. “Exiled. Disavowed. Forgotten. And I’ll be standing right here, with my mate, ruling the Northern Pack, breaking the curse, and watching you rot.”
She didn’t flinch.
Just smiled.
And then—
The Tribunal spoke.
“By order of the Supernatural Council,” the High Enforcer said, “Lady Selene is hereby stripped of her title, her lands, and her blood rights. She is to be exiled from all territories under Council jurisdiction. Any alliance with her is null. Any protection denied. And if she is found within Council borders again—”
“—she will be executed,” the vampire lord finished.
“And the Crimson Court?” the Iron Clan elder asked.
“They have already disavowed her,” the Fae representative said. “She is no longer one of them.”
“Then it’s done,” I said.
But it wasn’t.
Because as they led her away—hands bound, head high, that same cold smile on her lips—she turned to me one last time.
And whispered.
“You haven’t won. The curse is still there. Beltane is coming. And when it does—”
I didn’t wait for the rest.
Just stepped forward—and slapped her.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the chamber like thunder. Her head snapped to the side. Blood welled at the corner of her lip. And for the first time—
She looked afraid.
“Next time,” I said, stepping closer, my voice low, dangerous, “I won’t use my hand.”
She didn’t answer.
Just walked.
And I watched her go.
Not with triumph.
Not with relief.
But with fire.
Later, as we stood in the war room, the maps spread across the table, the fire crackling in the hearth, Kaelen pulled me into his arms.
“It’s over,” he said, his voice rough. “She’s gone.”
“For now,” I said, leaning into him, my head on his chest. “But the curse is still there. Beltane is coming. And my grandmother—”
“—is still alive,” he said. “And she’s not done. But we are. We’ve faced her lies. We’ve survived her games. And we’re still standing.”
I looked up at him—really looked at him.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a threat.
I saw a future.
“Then let’s keep standing,” I said. “Together.”
He didn’t smile.
Just 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.
That night, I dreamed of fire.
Not the fire of denial. Not the fire of the curse.
But the fire of completion.
Of choice.
Of love.
And when I woke, Kaelen was watching me, his gold eyes burning in the dark.
“You’re smiling,” he said.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something fragile, something precious.
And I was.
Not because I was weak.
But because I was his.
And he was mine.
And no lie could ever break that.