로그인POV: Mixed The throne room still trembles from the collision of gold fire and claws. Dust hangs in the air like a second darkness, settling on shattered stone, blood-slick floors, and the remnants of shattered warding sigils.Ronan is breathing hard, muscles coiled like a spring, eyes fixed on Jax, who crouches low, jagged shards of his artifact smoldering at his feet. The gold fire between Ronan and me hums, crackling and alive. It’s not just energy—it’s intent, it’s survival, it’s the culmination of everything we’ve fought for, every choice, and misstep.But the danger isn’t ours alone. Even as we circle Jax, alive with every nerve alert, the pack house trembles in the distance. Malric—the traitor—hasn’t surrendered. He’s moved to enact a twisted version of the curse, and the chaos inside threatens everything we’ve built.I take a breath, the bond thrumming hot and sharp in my chest. Ronan mirrors me, claws flexing, eyes scanning, and for a moment, we’re both aware of something big
POV: LilahRonan’s claws flash, teeth bared, and I can feel the weight of him against Jax like a storm incarnate. Every instinct tells me to stay back, to let him carry this, to let him choose, to let him be Alpha.And for a heartbeat, I almost do.Then I see it—the tilt of Jax’s wrist, the subtle shift of his stance, the glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. He thinks I’m still the scared, half-broken girl, a pawn, a curse-bound target. He doesn’t see me. Not really.I move.The bond sparks—a jolt of fire between us—and I push through the exhaustion, the lingering dust, the pain from my shoulder where Jax’s claws grazed me moments ago. I’m half a wolf, half woman, half magic. I’m more than a pawn.Claws flare along my fingers. Gold light dances up my arms. I lunge.I slam into Jax from the side, the impact throwing him off balance, teeth snapping, magic humming along my claws. He snarls, surprised, and I feel Ronan’s attention flicker—momentarily startled, then refocusing.“We do this
The world narrows.Every instinct, every plan, every calculation I’ve ever made collapses into the single point of her gold eyes, the tilt of her jaw, the arc of her spine under Jax’s hand.Not again.Not like before.The curse coils around my mind, twisting, whispering. Split. Divide. Save everyone. Lose nothing. I can hear it in the rhythm of my heartbeat, feel it in the pull of the bond, and see it in the tiny line of tension in the pups huddled behind Malric’s platform.You can’t. You never could.A heartbeat later, the memory arrives: the Hall of Ancestors. Fire. Smoke. Screams. The echo of Lilah’s face, pale, terrified, asking silently why I didn’t choose her first. Wolves gone. Pack shattered. And me, a shadow in the center of all of it, trying to be everywhere at once and failing.Every piece of me—the Alpha, the warrior, the protector—wants to calculate, to divide forces, to split myself like I always have.The pups. The pack. Malric’s blade. The throne room. The walls that c
“I thought we agreed to support role,” Ronan says without looking at me.“This is support,” I say. “I’m supporting by yelling at you when you’re about to be flanked.”He huffs a breath that might almost be a laugh.We fight.Hours blur into flashes.Jax’s forces don’t throw everything at once. They send waves. Test. Retreat. Shift angles. Every time, the wards sing with strain. Every time, the pack answers.And every time, I feel it coming half a second before steel meets stone.“High—duck!”“Ward three—brace!”“Don’t chase him into the trees, you idiot—”At one point, an explosion of magic rips through a section of wall ten yards down from us where some old sigils weren’t properly refreshed. Stone cracks, dust billows, a gap yawns where no gap should be.Two young warriors are on either side of it, scrambling to push rubble clear of their fallen captain, trapped under a half‑collapsed crenelation.Ronan starts to move that way on instinct.I get there first.Speed. Senses. Power. All
LilahThe moon rises wrong.It’s not just full—it’s swollen, hanging low over the treeline like an eye that’s been watching too long. The edge that was silver last night is rimmed deeper now, a faint red bloom creeping across its face as it climbs.The air knows.It’s thick, hard to pull into my lungs, and charged like the seconds before lightning. The wards around the compound hum at a pitch that sets my teeth on edge. Every tiny sound—boots on stone, metal on leather, the distant call of an owl—lands too sharp.War drums outside. War drums inside. And under both, a third rhythm—the curse, thrumming in my bones.I stand on the ridge where Ronan and I watched the sky last night.Below, the pack is in motion.Warriors at their posts. Scouts at the outer lines. Evacuees sealed in safer hollows under Morwen’s newer wards. The air is threaded with the scents of sweat, steel, adrenaline, and something older: the particular ozone‑sharp tang of big magic waking up.My chest tightens.The
LilahThe pack is too quiet.Not in the way it was when I first arrived—suspicious, simmering. This is different. The quiet of braced muscle, of lungs, held somewhere between inhale and exhale.By sunset, patrols are doubled. Evacuation routes are set. Non‑combatants have been moved to deeper holds under new wards Morwen carved herself.The sky is painfully clear. Stars pricked sharp overhead. The moon is not quite full—but close enough that my skin feels stretched too tight over bone.War drums outside. War drums inside.Naomi and Bella and I hole up in the guest room for a while, pretending we’re just three women killing time, not three threads tied into the heart of a curse.Naomi sprawls on her bed, head hanging off the edge, hair nearly brushing the floor. Bella sits cross‑legged against the headboard, sketchbook open but blank, pencil idle in her hand.I sit on the floor between them, back against the side of the bed, legs stretched out, fingers picking at a loose thread in th
*Lilah*He walks me back to my room in silence.Leo falls in behind us without a word. The tension in the corridor follows like a ghost—cracked stone, torn fabric, the echo of a boy’s scream, and the memory of Ronan’s hand on my face.My heart hasn’t quite figured out how to calm down yet. It stutt
*Ronan*I don't sleep.After Malric's shadow retreats down the corridor, I carry Lilah to the bed, settle her under the blankets, and sit in the chair by the window until the moon sinks and the first gray light bleeds across the sky.She sleeps fitfully. Sometimes, her fingers twitch, nails flicker
*Ronan*For a breath, all I can do is stare.Half‑moon grooves scar the floorboards where her nails dug in. Her fingertips are tipped in blunt, half‑formed claws. The air in the room crackles with the echo of her scream.And her eyes—Gold. Not a flicker. Not a trick of the light.A full, predatory
*Lilah*I'm halfway through my morning training session with Cassian when I hear the name."—Jax Thorn sent it himself," Leo is saying to another warrior at the edge of the field. "Official seal. The works."Cassian's fist stops an inch from my face.I blink, belatedly remembering I was supposed to







