LOGINDEREK’S POV The key had been in my father’s desk drawer for eleven years. I’d never thought about it. It was just there — a small iron key on a plain ring, sitting in the back corner of the drawer beneath old correspondence and a broken watch he’d never gotten fixed. I’d moved it aside a hundred times without registering it. I registered it now. I’d been in his old office for three hours, working backward through pack records I should have examined six months ago, following the thread of questions that had stopped letting me sleep. The gaps in my memory. The decisions in my own handwriting I couldn’t remember making. Vivian’s name appearing in pack finances in amounts that had been recorded in categories that didn’t quite make sense. Security consultation. Two thousand, dated four months before she’d arrived at Crescent Moon with Celeste in tow. Reputation management. Five thousand, six months before that.
ARIA’S POV I heard her before I saw her. Small, quick footsteps in the hallway outside my room — hesitant, the way someone moves when they’re not sure they’re allowed to be somewhere — and then a knock so soft it was almost a question. I was off the bed before Marcus could object. “Aria, Dr. Chen said you’re supposed to—” I opened the door. Elena stood in the hallway with a Lycan guard approximately three times her size positioned behind her, both of them looking equally uncertain. She was wearing a borrowed jacket two sizes too large, her red hair escaping its braid, a cut above her eyebrow that was mostly healed. Her hazel eyes found my face and immediately filled. “Hi,” she whispered. I pulled her into a hug. She made a sound against my shoulder — something between a laugh and a sob — and held on with both arms. I felt her shaking slightly, or maybe that was me, and for a moment n
DEREK’S POV I should have been sleeping. It was past midnight, the pack house was quiet, and Celeste was beside me breathing in the slow, even rhythm of deep sleep. I had a council meeting at seven. A patrol report at nine. A border negotiation that had been delayed twice already and couldn’t be pushed again. I had every reason to sleep. Instead I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, and thought about Aria Winters for the fourteenth night in a row. I’d stopped counting after the first week. Started again when I realized the counting was the only honest thing I was doing. Too fat to be my Luna. The words came back the way they always did — not with the conviction they’d carried the night I’d said them, but with something that had started to feel uncomfortably like shame. I remembered saying them. Remembered the crowd’s reaction, the way the words had landed like I’d scored a point in a game whose rules I hadn’t examined closely enough. I remembered Aria’s face. I rolled ove
ARIA’S POV I woke up knowing something had changed before I opened my eyes. It wasn’t pain that told me — though there was still plenty of that, dull and manageable beneath the surface. It was the opposite of pain. A fullness. Like I’d spent my entire life breathing with one lung and somewhere in the night, quietly, without asking permission, the second one had opened. I lay still for a moment just feeling it. Complete. That was the word. Like pieces of myself I hadn’t known were missing had filed back in while I slept and settled into places that had always been theirs. I opened my eyes. The medical wing ceiling. Gray morning light. The soft rhythm of monitors I was becoming too familiar with. I looked at my arms. The white fur was there — faint, just visible, not the full surge of Royal power but a constant presence now, like it lived just beneath the surface instead of buried miles deep. But threaded through it, unmistakable in the early light, were streaks of silver. Kae
KAEL’S POV The medical wing smelled like blood. Aria’s blood. I’d been covered in it since I’d carried her through the mansion doors, her weight too still in my arms, her heartbeat a thread pulled so thin I’d had to press my ear to her chest to be sure it was still there. I’d left handprints on two walls and a doorframe. I hadn’t noticed until now, standing under the harsh medical lights watching Dr. Chen move with the controlled urgency of someone who was scared but couldn’t afford to show it. That scared me more than anything else. “Talk to me,” I said. “Not helpful right now, Kael.” “Talk to me, Sarah.” She didn’t look up from the monitors. “Blood pressure is sixty over forty and dropping. Heart rate irregular — she’s throwing PVCs every third beat. Oxygen at eighty-one percent.” A pause, hands moving. “She lost too much blood from the fall, and the Royal power usage accelerated her body’s deterioration. The curse turns her own energy against her when she uses i
ARIA’S POV Time did something strange on the way down. It stretched. Three stories should have taken seconds. Instead it felt like minutes — the cold air rushing past, the ground expanding below us, the window frame receding above. I had time to think. Too much time. This is it. Not from the curse. Not from rejection or starvation or six months of slow erasure. Not wasting away in a servants’ wing while the pack I’d grown up in pretended I didn’t exist. Fighting. Fighting for Elena, for Kael, for twenty-three children I’d never even met who needed someone to buy them thirty more seconds. I’d never fought for anything before. Had spent twenty-three years making myself smaller, quieter, less — trying to take up less space, less air, less of everything, hoping that if I shrank enough someone might finally decide to keep me. And here at the end, falling through cold night air with my stepmother’s hands clawing at my arms, I was the biggest I’d ever been. Somehow, in the half-se







