The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna
I am alive.
Ronan snarls, steps close, and our shoulders brush. The bond thrums like a live wire, hot, dangerous, but controlled.
“Together,” he growls.
“Together,” I echo.
And in that moment, I understood what the Goddess meant. The Moon may watch, the curse may scream, and the storms may rage—but the script is ours to write now.
We will fight. We will survive. We will not be puppets of inevitability.
Jax roars, rising to strike again, but I feel it in my bones: we’ve shifted the balance. The Moon pulses, still red, still fractured, but the gold fire between us burns brighter. The curse is no longer a sentence—it is a weapon we wield.