The air in the Moonfire Hall was thick with the scent of old magic and fresh blood.
Not mine. Not Kaelen’s. But the blood of the curse—black and pulsing, seeping from the cracks in the stone floor like a wound that refused to close. The hall was silent, the torches burning low, their flames flickering with the weight of what was about to happen. The Supernatural Council had summoned us. The Fae High Court had demanded it. And now, the entire supernatural world watched—through scrying mirrors, through whispered spells, through the eyes of those who stood in the shadows, waiting to see if I would break.
I stood at the center of the dais, my boots silent on the obsidian, my dress of deep garnet silk clinging to my curves. The sigil over my heart still glowed faintly, a brand of fire and thorn fused with storm and iron. The bite mark on my neck throbbed—Kaelen’s claim, his vow, his love. And in my hands—
The scroll.
The original blood pact. The one that had cursed my bloodline. The one that had bound me to Kaelen. The one that had started all of this.
And now, it was time to end it.
“Garnet Hollow,” the High Enforcer said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You stand before the Council, the Fae, the Clans, and the gods themselves. The Hollow Curse has reached its final stage. Beltane is upon us. The bond is active. But incomplete. And the curse demands a choice.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just lifted my head, my violet eyes locking onto his. “I know what it demands.”
“Then speak it,” he said. “Do you choose vengeance? Do you choose to destroy the Thorne line, to break the bond, to die as your mother did?”
A murmur rose from the crowd.
From the shadows—my grandmother’s laugh, low and cruel.
From the balcony—Selene’s ghost, her crimson gown like blood in the torchlight, her lips curled in a smile.
And from beside me—
Kaelen.
He stood tall, his gold eyes burning, his presence a wall of storm and iron. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, his body a weapon, his scent rich and male, calling to me, claiming me. And when he looked at me—
He didn’t see a killer.
Didn’t see a weapon.
Didn’t see a cursed bloodline waiting to die.
He saw me.
And gods, I loved him for it.
“No,” I said, my voice clear, steady. “I do not choose vengeance.”
The chamber stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a flicker of flame.
And then—
“Then what do you choose?” the High Enforcer asked.
I didn’t answer.
Just unrolled the scroll.
The parchment was brittle, the ink faded, the ribbon binding it still stained with dried roses and blood. But the words—
They burned.
“By blood and bone, by fire and thorn, the Hollow and Thorne bloodlines shall be bound until one dies. The curse shall not be broken by death, nor by magic, nor by will. It shall only end when Garnet chooses love over vengeance.”
I looked up.
And stepped forward.
Not to the Council.
Not to the Fae.
Not to the world.
To him.
My boots echoed on the stone as I crossed the dais, my head high, my back straight, my heart pounding. The pack stirred. The sentries tensed. The omegas held their breath. And when I reached him—
I didn’t hesitate.
I stepped into his arms.
Not because the bond demanded it.
Not because the curse forced me.
But because I wanted to.
My hands rose to his face, my fingers tracing his jaw, his scars, the old wound across his heart. His breath caught. His body stilled. And then—
He 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—
I spoke.
Not to the Council.
Not to the Fae.
Not to the world.
To him.
“I choose you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. Not because the curse says I have to. But because I love you. Because you saw me. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. Not as a cursed hybrid. As me. And maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.”
The chamber was silent.
Not because they didn’t hear.
But because they couldn’t believe.
And then—
The scroll ignited.
Not with flame.
Not with fire.
With light.
It burst from my hands, not burning, not screaming, but shattering—the parchment turning to ash, the ink dissolving into golden dust, the ribbon of dried roses and blood crumbling to nothing. The curse—
It didn’t scream.
It didn’t fight.
It just… let go.
The black blood seeping from the floor evaporated. The sigils on the walls dimmed. The air—thick with tension, with fear, with centuries of lies—cleared, like the world had finally exhaled.
And then—
Fire.
Not the fire of denial. Not the fire of the curse.
But the fire of completion.
It spiraled up my arms, not with pain, not with resistance, but with truth. My magic—suppressed, sealed, controlled—roared to life, not as a weapon, not as a curse, but as a vow. Lightning crackled at my fingertips. My fangs lengthened. My claws extended. The bond flared—not with need, not with desperation, but with belonging.
And Kaelen—
He didn’t flinch.
Just held me tighter.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough, strained. “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 you’re mine. And I’ll choose you. Every time.”
He didn’t smile.
Just kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat. His lips met mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lips, forcing them open. I moaned—deep, broken—as his body arched into mine, my hands clutching his shoulders. The bond roared to life, a wildfire racing through my veins, burning away every lie, every fear, every wall we’d built between us.
But it wasn’t just a kiss.
It was a transfer.
My power flowed into him—storm and fire, lightning and heat, the raw, unfiltered truth of what I was. And his into me—strength and control, dominance and surrender, the quiet, steady weight of a man who had waited for me.
The chamber trembled. The torches flared. The runes on the walls cracked.
And then—
It was over.
The curse was broken.
Not by blood.
Not by magic.
Not by death.
By choice.
I pulled back, my breath ragged, my body trembling, my heart pounding. Kaelen’s gold eyes burned into mine, fierce, unrelenting, but there was something softer beneath the surface—relief. Love. Peace.
And then—
He did it.
He leaned down—and bit me.
Not on the neck.
Not on the shoulder.
On the sigil over my heart.
His fangs pierced the brand of fire and thorn, sealing it with his blood, his claim, his love. I screamed—raw, broken—not from pain, but from completion. The bond flared, not with denial, but with truth. I could feel it—his love, his need, his surrender. And I gave it back. My relief, my shame, my love—pouring into him like a river.
When he pulled back, his eyes were gold, fierce, unrelenting. “You’re mine,” he growled. “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 chamber didn’t erupt in cheers.
Didn’t burst into celebration.
It just… changed.
The tension lifted. The fear faded. The air—once thick with the weight of centuries—lightened, like the world had finally found its breath. The pack stood taller. The sentries lowered their weapons. The omegas smiled.
And from the shadows—
My grandmother.
She stepped forward, her violet eyes burning, her silver hair cascading like a river of moonlight. She didn’t look at me. Just at the ash where the scroll had been.
“You think this changes anything?” she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You think love breaks the curse? You think choosing him makes you free?”
I didn’t flinch.
Just turned to her, my head high, my back straight. “It already has.”
“You’re weak,” she spat. “You’ve always been weak. You chose love over power. You chose him over your bloodline. You’ve doomed us all.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “I’ve saved us. Not by destroying. Not by cursing. Not by controlling. By choosing. By loving. By being free.”
She didn’t move. Just stared, her eyes burning with fury, with madness, with something deeper—fear.
And then—
Kaelen stepped forward.
Not to her.
But to me.
He didn’t speak. Just reached for my hand.
And I took it.
“You have one choice,” he said, his voice low, steady. “Walk away. Or face the Council. The debt is yours. The betrayal is yours. And if you try to harm her again—”
“—you’ll have to go through me,” I finished.
She didn’t answer.
Just turned—and walked.
Not with pride.
Not with power.
But with silence.
And I knew—
She was broken.
Not by magic.
Not by blood.
But by truth.
Later, as we stood on the balcony of our chamber, the moon high above, the fortress quiet below, Kaelen pulled me into his arms.
“They’ll come for us,” he said.
“Let them,” I said. “We’ve already won.”
“How?”
“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.