The first time I saw them together, I thought she’d kill him.
Not with a blade. Not with fire or storm. But with silence. With the cold, sharp precision of a woman who’d come to destroy, and the way she looked at Kaelen—like he was already dead, like his last breath was already caught in his throat—told me everything I needed to know.
She was here to finish what her mother started.
And Kaelen—my brother in all but blood, the only man I’d ever sworn loyalty to—was walking straight into the fire.
But I didn’t stop him.
Because I’d also seen the way he looked at her.
Not with lust. Not with dominance. Not even with the cold calculation of an Alpha assessing a threat.
With *recognition*.
Like he’d been waiting for her. Like he’d known, deep in his bones, that she was the one who could break him. Or save him. Or both.
And now—now that the curse was broken, now that the bond was complete, now that they stood together as king and queen, as mates, as rulers—I stood in the shadows of the war room, watching the aftermath of their coronation, and I felt something I hadn’t in years.
Hope.
Not for me. Not for the pack. Not even for the fragile peace that had settled over the fortress like morning mist.
For *them*.
Because if two people who had come to destroy each other could choose love instead… then maybe there was a chance for the rest of us.
I turned from the war table, my boots silent on the stone. The room was still a mess—maps scattered, inkwells tipped, scrolls trampled underfoot. I didn’t clean it. Didn’t straighten it. Let the chaos remain. Let the world see that even in victory, we were not perfect. That we were not gods. That we were still learning how to be human.
How to be whole.
The corridor outside was quiet. Too quiet. The sentries had been relieved, the omegas retired, the warriors passed out in their quarters, drunk on celebration and relief. The torches flickered low, their flames casting long, shifting shadows against the walls. I moved fast, my steps sure, my mind sharp. I wasn’t on patrol. Wasn’t on duty. But I couldn’t sleep. Not with the weight of what had happened pressing down on me.
Kaelen had knelt.
Not in submission. Not in defeat.
But to *her*.
And she had pulled him back to his feet—not as a subject, not as a servant, but as an equal. As a king. As a *mate*.
And when she kissed him—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat—the bond flared so bright it lit up the entire dais. The runes cracked. The sky split with lightning. And the pack… they knelt. Not to her. Not to him. To *both*.
“Queen. King. Queen. King.”
The chant still echoed in my skull.
Not because it was powerful.
But because it was *true*.
I reached the barracks, my hand on the hilt of my dagger, my senses sharp. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, steel, and old blood—familiar, comforting. My quarters were at the end, small, sparse, a soldier’s room. No luxuries. No trophies. Just a cot, a chest, a single shelf with a few books and a cracked mirror.
I didn’t light the lantern.
Just stepped inside, my body tense, my breath steady. And then—
I saw it.
A note. Slipped under the door. White parchment. No seal. No sigil. Just my name—*Riven*—written in delicate, looping script.
My fingers closed around it, cold despite the warmth of the room. I didn’t open it. Not yet. Just stood there, the paper in my hand, my heart pounding like a war drum.
Because I knew who it was from.
Not Garnet. Not Kaelen. Not one of the pack.
It was Fae.
The script was too fine. The paper too smooth. The scent—honeysuckle and lies—too sharp in my nose.
I stepped to the window, the moonlight spilling over the parchment as I unfolded it. My eyes scanned the words, my breath catching with each line.
“Your turn, Beta.”
That was it.
No signature. No explanation. No threat.
Just those three words.
And yet—
They burned.
Not with fire. Not with magic. But with *recognition*.
Because I knew her.
The Fae spy. The one I’d seen in the shadows during the Tribunal. The one who’d watched me from the edge of the Heart Grove, her violet eyes sharp, her lips curled in a smile. The one who’d slipped me a glance during the coronation, her hand brushing her throat where a sigil pulsed faintly beneath her skin.
She wasn’t just watching.
She was *waiting*.
And now—
She was calling.
I crumpled the note in my fist, my claws extending, my fangs aching. I didn’t throw it. Didn’t burn it. Just held it, the paper biting into my palm, the words seared into my mind.
Your turn.
As if this was a game. As if love and war and loyalty were just pieces on a board to be moved at will. As if I hadn’t spent my life protecting Kaelen, standing in the shadows, taking the hits he couldn’t afford to take, making the choices he was too noble to make.
And now, just because they’d found their happily ever after, I was supposed to step into the light?
No.
I wasn’t Garnet. I didn’t crave the spotlight. I didn’t want the crown. I didn’t need to be seen.
I was the blade in the dark. The shield. The one who stayed behind so they could move forward.
That was my purpose.
That was my *vow*.
And I wasn’t about to let some Fae with a pretty face and a sharper tongue turn me into a pawn in her game.
I turned to the shelf, my fingers brushing the cracked mirror. My reflection stared back—dark eyes, sharp jaw, hair black as midnight, a scar running from my temple to my cheekbone, a gift from a vampire who’d thought he could break me. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
I was not beautiful. Not like Kaelen, with his storm-gold eyes and his sculpted face. Not like Garnet, with her fire and fury and violet eyes that burned like twin suns.
I was not meant to be seen.
And yet—
She had seen me.
And that… that was dangerous.
I shoved the mirror aside, my hand closing around the hilt of my dagger. The blade was old, not enchanted, not ceremonial. Just steel. Just blood. Just *me*. I tested the edge against my thumb, the sting sharp, the blood welling in a thin line. I didn’t wipe it. Just let it drip onto the floor, a silent offering to the gods of war and silence.
And then—
I heard it.
A whisper.
Not from the corridor. Not from the barracks.
From *inside*.
From the note.
I looked down.
The crumpled paper in my hand was glowing—faint, silver, pulsing like a heartbeat. I uncurled my fist, my breath shallow, my senses on high. The words were gone. The parchment blank.
And then—
They reappeared.
“You’ve watched them choose each other. Now it’s your turn to choose. Me. Or the shadows.”
I didn’t move.
Just stared, my heart pounding, my blood roaring in my ears.
She wasn’t just watching.
She was *testing* me.
And if I didn’t answer—
She’d make me.
I didn’t burn the note. Didn’t tear it. Just slipped it into my coat, the paper cold against my skin. I wouldn’t play her game. Wouldn’t walk into her trap. But I wouldn’t ignore it either.
Because I knew the truth.
Love wasn’t just for kings and queens.
It was for the ones who stood in the dark, who held the line, who bled so others could live.
And if she thought she could break me—
She didn’t know who I was.
I left the barracks and moved through the fortress, my steps silent, my presence unnoticed. The sentries didn’t challenge me. The omegas didn’t call out. I was a ghost. A shadow. A whisper in the night.
And I liked it that way.
But not tonight.
Because tonight, I wasn’t just Beta.
I was *hunted*.
I reached the outer wall, the highest point of the fortress, where the wind howled through the mountain pass and the stars burned cold and bright above. I leaned against the stone, my hands gripping the edge, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The world was vast. Endless. Full of enemies, of lies, of forgotten oaths.
And somewhere out there—
She was waiting.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time in years, I let myself remember.
Not the battles. Not the blood. Not the deaths I’d caused, the lives I’d taken to protect Kaelen.
Her.
The Fae woman with violet eyes and a voice like wind through glass. The one I’d seen in the Carpathians five years ago, her dress torn, her magic drained, her body broken by vampire hunters. I’d found her. Saved her. Carried her back to safety, not knowing who she was, not caring.
And when she woke—
She looked at me.
Not with gratitude. Not with fear.
With *recognition*.
Like she’d been waiting for me too.
I’d left before she could speak. Before she could thank me. Before she could ask my name.
Because I wasn’t meant to be seen.
But now—
Now she had found me.
And she wasn’t letting go.
I opened my eyes.
And there she was.
Standing on the parapet, her feet bare, her dress of silver silk fluttering in the wind, her violet eyes locked onto mine. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched, like she’d been waiting for me to look.
And gods, she was beautiful.
Not in the way of queens and warriors. Not in the way of fire and storm.
But in the way of moonlight on water. Of silence before dawn. Of a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.
“You came,” I said, my voice low.
“You knew I would,” she said, stepping down, her movements fluid, graceful, like she was made of smoke and shadow.
I didn’t reach for my dagger. Didn’t shift. Just stood there, my body tense, my breath steady.
“Why?”
“Because you saved me,” she said, stopping just a foot away. “And I’ve spent five years wondering why a man who hides in the shadows would risk everything for a stranger.”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“You didn’t care,” she said, stepping closer. “And that’s why I chose you.”
“Chose me for what?”
“For this,” she said, lifting the note. It glowed in her hand, silver and pulsing. “For the game. For the oath. For the future.”
“I don’t play games,” I said.
“Everyone plays,” she said, her voice soft. “Even you. Even when you think you’re just standing guard. You’re still choosing. Still fighting. Still loving.”
I didn’t flinch.
But I didn’t deny it either.
“I’m not like Kaelen,” I said. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t need a queen. I’m not meant for love.”
“No,” she said, stepping so close I could feel her breath against my skin. “You’re meant for *me*.”
And then—
She kissed me.
Not like Garnet kissed Kaelen—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat.
This was different.
Hot. Sharp. *Dangerous*.
Her lips met mine, not with love, but with *claiming*. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her body pressing into mine, her magic flaring—sweet and sharp, like honeysuckle and steel. I didn’t pull away. Didn’t fight. Just let her take, let her taste, let her *know* me.
And when she pulled back—
Her eyes were violet fire.
“You feel it,” she said, her voice rough. “The pull. The truth. The *bond*.”
I did.
Not magic. Not curse. Not fate.
But something deeper.
Something real.
And gods, it terrified me.
“I can’t,” I said, stepping back. “I have a duty. A vow. I can’t leave him. Not now. Not when they’ve just found each other.”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said. “But you can’t stay in the shadows forever. Not when your heart is already out here, beating for someone you won’t admit you love.”
“I don’t love you,” I said.
“Not yet,” she said, smiling. “But you will.”
And then—
She was gone.
Not vanished. Not shifted. Just… *gone*. Like she’d never been there at all.
Only the note remained.
And the taste of her on my lips.
I stood there, the wind howling around me, the stars burning above, and for the first time in my life—
I let myself wonder.
What if I stepped out of the shadows?
What if I let someone see me?
What if I let myself be loved?
And then—
I felt it.
A shift in the air. A whisper in the wind. A presence.
I turned.
Kaelen stood in the archway, his gold eyes burning, his body a wall of storm and iron. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched me, like he already knew.
“She came,” I said.
He nodded.
“And you didn’t stop her.”
“No,” he said. “I let her go.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve spent your life protecting me,” he said, stepping forward. “Now it’s your turn to be protected. To be seen. To be *loved*.”
I didn’t answer.
Just looked at him—really looked at him.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a king.
I saw a brother.
“Go after her,” he said.
“And if I fail?”
“Then you fail,” he said. “But if you don’t try, you’ve already lost.”
I didn’t move.
Just reached into my coat.
And pulled out the note.
It glowed in my hand—silver, pulsing, alive.
And then—
I stepped forward.
Into the wind.
Into the night.
Into the unknown.
Because maybe—just maybe—I was ready to stop hiding.
And maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t just for kings and queens.
Maybe it was for the ones who stood in the dark.
For the ones who held the line.
For the ones who bled so others could live.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.