Liana’s POVThe Crown dreams now.Not in images or commands, but in rhythms—heartbeat and breath, the subtle exchange between land and life. When I wake, it’s with the sensation of being gently set down rather than pulled back from some endless void.Morning spills over Midnight in gold.I lie still for a moment, listening. The den smells like earth and pine and Ethan—warm, familiar, grounding. His arm is draped over my waist, possessive without being heavy, his breathing slow and even. Outside, the forest hums with early movement: paws brushing dirt, distant laughter, the soft trill of birds brave enough to share space with wolves.This is what we fought for.Not silence.Belonging.I turn carefully, studying Ethan’s face in the dawn light. The sharp edges of the Alpha remain, but they’re softened now by peace, by certainty. He looks younger somehow—not because the weight is gone, but because it’s finally shared.I press a kiss to his shoulder.His eyes open instantly. “Morning.”“Di
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