The silence after the curse broke was not empty.
It was not still.
It was not even peace.
It was weight.
The kind that settles into your bones when the war you’ve fought for decades—quietly, in shadows, behind clenched teeth—ends not with a roar, but with a whisper. The kind that makes your hands tremble not from exhaustion, but from the sudden absence of tension. The kind that makes you question whether you’re still alive, because everything feels too light, too quiet, too right.
I stood in the Moonfire Hall, my arms around Garnet, her body pressed to mine, her breath warm against my neck. The scent of her—garnet and fire, storm and iron—had never been stronger. The bond hummed between us, not with desperation, not with denial, but with something deeper. Something like completion. The sigil over her heart glowed faintly beneath my palm, no longer a brand of curse, but a mark of choice. Of love. Of surrender.
And yet—
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just held her.
Because I was afraid.
Not of the Council. Not of the Fae. Not even of the Hollow Witch, who had vanished into the shadows like smoke.
I was afraid of what came next.
For twenty years, I had ruled with one purpose: to atone. To prove I was not my father. To protect the Northern Pack from the war he had started, the blood he had spilled, the lies he had woven. I had built walls around myself—of control, of silence, of cold authority—because I believed that was what an Alpha had to be. That love was weakness. That trust was betrayal. That vulnerability was death.
And then she came.
Garnet.
A storm in silk and fire, a blade wrapped in defiance, a woman who looked at me and didn’t see a monster.
She saw me.
And gods, it terrified me.
“They’re watching,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my chest.
I didn’t need to look.
I could feel them—the Council, the pack, the sentries, the omegas—all of them standing in silence, their breaths held, their eyes sharp with something I couldn’t name. Not awe. Not fear. Not even respect.
Hope.
And it was heavier than any crown.
“Let them,” I said, my voice rough. “They’ve waited long enough to see the truth.”
She tilted her head back, her violet eyes searching mine. “And what’s the truth?”
I didn’t answer.
Just brushed a strand of hair from her face, my thumb tracing the fresh bite mark just below her ear—the one I’d placed there in the Heart Grove. The one that declared to the world she was mine. Not by force. Not by magic. But by choice.
“That you’re not a weapon,” I said. “That you’re not a pawn. That you’re not a cursed bloodline waiting to die.”
“And?” she pressed.
“That I love you,” I said, the words raw, breaking through the wall I’d spent a lifetime building. “Not because the bond demands it. Not because the curse forces me. But because you’re worthy.”
Her breath caught.
Not from shock.
Not from doubt.
From recognition.
Because she already knew.
And gods, I loved her for it.
She didn’t speak.
Just leaned in—and kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat. Her lips met mine, hot and demanding, her tongue sliding against my lower lip, forcing it open. I groaned—low, broken—my body arching into hers, my hands tightening on her hips. The bond flared, not with need, not with desperation, but with truth. I could feel it—her love, her relief, her surrender. And I gave it back. My trust, my fear, my truth—pouring into her like a river.
When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths ragged, she spoke.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said, her voice soft. “Not to me. Not to the pack. Not to the world. You’re not your father. You’re not a monster. You’re my mate. My king. And I choose you. Every time.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from pride.
Not from power.
But from something deeper.
Worth.
I didn’t answer.
Just pulled her into my arms, holding her like I was something fragile, something precious. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried my face in her neck, my breath warm against her skin.
And for the first time since I’d become Alpha, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t a monster.
That I wasn’t my father.
That I was worthy.
Not of power.
Not of fear.
But of love.
And she was mine.
And I was hers.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
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.
“She’s gone,” he said. “The Hollow Witch. Vanished. No trace.”
“She’ll be back,” I said, stepping forward. “But not tonight. Tonight belongs to us.”
Riven looked at Garnet—really looked at her—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 the curse is broken. They know you completed the bond.”
“And?” Garnet asked.
“And they’re waiting,” he said. “To see what you do next.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned to me. “Then let’s give them a show.”
I didn’t smile.
Just reached for her hand.
And she took it.
The Heart Grove was silent when we arrived.
Not the quiet hum of torches or the distant echo of sentries changing shift. Not the usual low murmur of warriors in the hall or the clink of steel being sharpened. This was different. Heavier. Thicker. Like the air itself had been poisoned with something unsaid, something coiled and waiting to strike.
But now—
Now, it was clean.
Fresh.
Alive.
The pack had 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—
Me.
And her.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice low. “Not tonight. Not now. You’ve already proven yourself.”
She didn’t look at me.
Just stepped forward, her boots silent on the moss, her head high, her heart pounding. She wore a simple dress of deep garnet silk, the fabric clinging to her curves, the neckline low, revealing the sigil over her heart—the one I had already claimed. Her hair was loose, wild, framing her face. Her fangs ached. Her claws itched. Her magic hummed beneath her skin, not with denial, but with pride.
And when she reached the stone—
She placed her hand on it.
The runes flared—silver, hot, blinding.
And then—
Fire.
Not the fire of denial. Not the fire of the curse. But the fire of completion—slow, deep, all-consuming. It spiraled up her arms, lightning crackling at her fingertips, the air thick with ozone. The pack roared—not in anger, not in defiance, but in approval.
And then—
She turned.
And looked at me.
“I’m not here to destroy you,” she said, her voice clear, steady. “I’m here to save you. From her. From the lie. From me. And maybe—just maybe—I’m saving myself too.”
The pack didn’t disperse.
They stayed.
And then—
One by one.
They knelt.
Not to me.
Not to the Alpha.
But to her.
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 at Garnet.
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 on the balcony of our chamber, the moon high above, the fortress quiet below, I pulled her into my arms.
“They’ll come for us,” I said.
“Let them,” she said. “We’ve already won.”
“How?”
“Because we chose each other,” she 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.”
I didn’t answer.
Just leaned in—and kissed her.
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 Alpha, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t a monster.
That I wasn’t my father.
That I was worthy.
Not of power.
Not of fear.
But of love.
And she was mine.
And I was hers.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
And no lie could ever break that.
She fell asleep in my arms, her head on my chest, her breath slow and even. I didn’t sleep. Just watched her—really watched her—for the first time without fear, without doubt, without the weight of the curse pressing down on us. Her face was relaxed. Her lips slightly parted. Her fangs, usually bared in defiance, now hidden in peace. And for the first time, I let myself imagine it.
A life.
Not just survival.
Not just duty.
But a life—full, fierce, free. With her. By my side. As my queen. As my mate. As my love.
And I knew—
I would fight for it.
Not with fangs or fire.
Not with blood or storm.
But with truth.
With choice.
With love.
Because the curse wasn’t just in her 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 her.
Because I did.
Not just to survive.
Not just to break the curse.
But because she saw me. Not as a monster. Not as a tyrant. Not as a cursed Alpha.
As me.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.