Chapter Six: The One Who Doesn’t Die

The town doesn’t survive the night.

Not really.

By the time the sun crawls over the rooftops, people will wake with headaches and missing hours, convinced the unease in their bones is nothing more than bad dreams. They’ll blame the cold. Or the wind. Or each other.

They will not remember the Alpha who bent the air.

They will not remember the wolves who watched from shadows.

They will not remember how close the world came to breaking open.

But I will.

Because I feel it still—coiled tight inside my chest, humming beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.

Caelan.

The moment Alaric retreats—because that’s what it is, no matter how carefully he masks it—the pressure doesn’t vanish. It lingers. Like the echo of a bell struck too hard to ever fully quiet.

“You should never have come near her.”

Alaric’s voice is controlled again, but the crack is there if you know how to listen. He stands a few paces back now, silver eyes flicking repeatedly to Caelan as if reassessing a threat that wasn’t supposed to exist.

“She is bound by law.”

“I don’t care,” Caelan snaps.

The words hit the air like a thrown blade.

Every enforcer stiffens. One actually flinches.

I turn sharply to Caelan. “You should.”

“I don’t,” he repeats, jaw clenched, breath uneven. “I don’t even know what I am yet, but I know this—” His hand tightens around mine. “—you are not a crime.”

Something in my chest splinters.

Alaric watches the exchange with mounting alarm. “You speak from ignorance,” he says. “Her bond is lethal. Every male before you—”

“Is dead,” Caelan finishes. “I know.”

The words send ice through my veins.

Slowly, Caelan turns to look at me.

Not with fear.

With resolve.

“You didn’t kill them,” he says quietly. “Something else did.”

I swallow hard. “Caelan—”

“I felt it,” he interrupts. “When he pushed. When the bond surged. That wasn’t death. That was suppression snapping.”

Alaric’s eyes blaze.

“You know nothing of Moon Born physiology,” he snaps. “Nothing of Sovereign blood—”

“Enough,” I growl.

The sound isn’t human.

It rips out of me low and resonant, vibrating through the street with authority I have never claimed before. The enforcers recoil again, instinct overriding loyalty.

Alaric stills.

Slowly, he inclines his head.

Just a fraction.

A gesture no one else would recognize for what it is.

Acknowledgment.

“You are unstable,” he says to me. “Both of you. The Council will not allow this bond to complete.”

Caelan lifts his chin. “Then they’ll have to kill me.”

The words slam into the space between us.

My breath leaves my lungs in a rush. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not afraid,” he says, softer now. “And that scares you more than the law ever did.”

He’s right.

Because fear is manageable.

Hope is not.

Alaric steps back another pace. “The Council has felt the disturbance. They will send hunters—ones less inclined to negotiate.”

“Let them,” Caelan says.

Alaric’s gaze hardens. “You will regret this confidence.”

“Maybe,” Caelan replies. “But I’m still standing.”

Alaric studies him one last time, then looks at me. Truly looks.

“The curse was never meant to protect you,” he says quietly. “It was meant to contain what you are.”

Then he turns.

The enforcers follow, melting back into the edges of the world like shadows at dawn.

The moment they’re gone, my knees buckle.

Caelan catches me instantly.

His arms are warm. Solid. Alive.

Alive.

I press my forehead against his chest, breath shaking. “You should be dead.”

“I’m not,” he says.

The bond pulses.

Steady.

Unbroken.

I pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are still silvered at the edges, unfamiliar power stirring beneath his skin like something stretching after a long sleep.

“This doesn’t happen,” I whisper. “Men die when they touch me. When they want me.”

“Then stop thinking of yourself as poison,” he says gently. “Because whatever this is—it chose us.”

A sharp pain lances through my chest.

Not physical.

Instinctive.

I gasp, clutching at him as the bond tightens suddenly, violently, like something locking into place far too fast.

Caelan groans, teeth gritting as he staggers back a step.

“Caelan—what’s happening?”

He looks up at me, eyes blazing silver now.

“I think,” he says through clenched teeth, “this is the part where your curse is supposed to kill me.”

The bond flares.

Hard.

Relentless.

And instead of death—

It anchors.

I feel it settle deep, ancient and final, like a throne accepting its rightful claim.

Caelan doesn’t fall.

He doesn’t scream.

He breathes.

The world seems to pause, holding its breath with him.

Somewhere far beyond the town, beyond territory and law, a howl answers—long, reverent, and unmistakably aware.

Not a warning.

A recognition.

I stare at the man in front of me, heart pounding, truth crashing into me with terrifying clarity.

The curse didn’t fail.

It was never meant for him.

And the Council is going to burn the world down when they realize it.