The night after my speech, the Citadel changed.
Not in stone. Not in flame. Not in the torches that still burned silver along the corridors, their light pulsing with moonfire. But in the silence. In the way the guards no longer stood rigid at their posts. In the way the envoys from the Southern Clans nodded to the Northern wolves without baring fangs. In the way a young hybrid witch from the Ember Circle dared to walk hand-in-hand with a vampire acolyte through the courtyard—unafraid.
It wasn’t peace.
It was possibility.
I felt it in the bond—a warmth that no longer flared with pain or denial, but with something deeper. A resonance. A rhythm. Like a second heartbeat, shared, unbroken. Kael was beside me, his coat pulled tight, his golden eyes scanning the torch-lit halls. He wasn’t in half-shift, but the wolf was close—too close—his presence a wall of heat and silence. But tonight, it didn’t feel like a barrier. It felt like a shield.
“You did it,” he said, his voice low. “They listened.”
“*We* did it,” I corrected, pressing my hand to my stomach, where the child’s warmth pulsed in slow, steady waves. “They didn’t just hear me. They saw *us*. And they chose truth over fear.”
He didn’t answer.
Just reached for my hand—warm, calloused, grounding. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in recognition. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just a witch.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was his.
And he was mine.
We didn’t return to our chambers.
Not yet.
Instead, Kael led me to the highest tower of the Citadel—the Watcher’s Spire, where the wind tore at our coats and the stars burned cold above. Below, the city of Veilhaven sprawled in shadow, its streets lit by fae lanterns and human streetlamps, a fragile blend of two worlds. The Blood Moon hung low on the horizon, its crimson glow fading into silver—a new cycle beginning.
“I’ve never brought anyone here,” he said, his voice rough. “Not even Silas.”
I didn’t ask why.
Just stepped closer, my body pressing against his side, my hand still in his. The bond hummed—not with need, not with heat, but with something quieter. Something sacred.
“I used to come here to remember,” he said, staring at the moon. “After my father died. After the first Blood Moon Ritual. After I realized what I’d become.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Power,” he said. “Control. The need to dominate. To prove I wasn’t weak. That I wouldn’t fail. That I wouldn’t become *him*.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just pressed my hand to his chest, over his heart. “And now?”
He turned to me, his golden eyes burning. “Now I see you.”
My breath caught.
Not from shock.
From recognition.
Because I’d spent so long seeing him as the enemy. As the Alpha. As the man who led the raid. As the one who stood between me and my mother’s soul. But in this moment—on this tower, under this shifting moon—I saw him as something else.
As a man who was afraid.
“You don’t have to be him,” I said, lifting my head. “You don’t have to carry that weight alone.”
“I’ve spent my life trying to prove I’m not weak,” he said, his voice breaking. “That I can lead. That I can protect. That I can control the wolf. But the truth is—”
He stopped.
Swallowed.
And then—
He knelt.
Not in submission.
Not in defeat.
In surrender.
One knee hit the stone, then the other. His head bowed, his hands resting on his thighs, his golden eyes closed. The wind tore at his coat, his hair, his silence. And the bond—
The bond shattered.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
In truth.
For a single, blinding second, the entire spire was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The spire stilled.
And I was on my knees too.
Not because I had to be.
Because I chose to be.
“Kael,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, lifting his head. His eyes were wet. His voice raw. “I’ve spent my life trying to control everything. The pack. The Council. The wolf. Even you. But I can’t control love. I can’t control truth. I can’t control *this*.”
He reached for my hand.
Not to claim.
Not to dominate.
To hold.
“I don’t want to be your Alpha,” he said. “Not anymore. I don’t want to command. I don’t want to rule. I don’t want to fear becoming my father.”
“Then don’t,” I said, my fingers tightening on his. “Be *you*. Be the man who saved Silas. Who fought for the vote. Who stood beside me when the world wanted us to break.”
“And if I fail?” he asked, his voice rough. “If I lose control? If the wolf takes over? If I hurt you? If I hurt the child?”
“Then I’ll be there,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest, over his heart. “Not to fix you. Not to control you. But to *love* you. To stand with you. To fight *beside* you.”
He didn’t speak.
Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire spire was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The spire stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
We didn’t return to our chambers.
Not yet.
Instead, we stayed on the spire, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the Blood Moon fade into silver. The child’s warmth pulsed—steady, calm, *unbroken*. The bond hummed—not as a curse.
But as a promise.
And then—
The door opened.
Silas stepped inside, his coat pulled tight, his golden eyes scanning the room. He didn’t look surprised. Just walked to us, his boots silent on the stone, his presence a wall of heat and silence.
“You felt it,” I said, not looking at him.
“I always do,” he said, stepping into me. His hand found mine, warm, calloused, grounding. “He’s getting stronger.”
“But I’m stronger,” I said, lifting my chin. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He didn’t smile. Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curls from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about truth.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.