51 The Challenge Begins

The field was already packed by the time I stepped onto it.

Wolves gathered in small groups, stretching, murmuring, sizing each other up. The sun hadn’t fully cleared the trees yet, and the air still carried that crisp bite of morning dew. But no one was relaxed. The tension had been building for days—and now, it was time.

Trial Prep.

My first day leading.

Every step I took forward felt like I was dragging the weight of every whispered doubt behind me. I could feel their eyes. Some curious. Some hostile. Most… skeptical.

Jax and Ronan stood with Becca and Jason at the front. Their presence grounded me, but even they watched me differently now. Not as the girl they’d protected. But as the girl who had to prove she belonged here.

I stopped in front of the assembled group, heart hammering.

They waited.

I took a breath.

“Line up,” I called out, raising my voice. “Two rows, formation style. Let’s see if you can follow basic instructions before we waste time on anything else.”

There was a beat of hesitation.

Then movement.

Some grudging. Some amused. But they obeyed.

Good.

Becca arched a brow, Jason gave a low whistle.

“Didn’t think she’d snap that fast,” I heard someone mutter. I didn’t bother looking. I had bigger things to focus on.

“This trial isn’t about being strong,” I said once they settled. “It’s about being smart. Being fast. Being in control. And knowing how to move as a pack. If you can’t work together, you fail. If you fall behind, you cost the rest of us. And I won’t be carrying dead weight.”

That got their attention.

Someone in the back scoffed. A girl with sharp features and an arched mouth. Talia.

“Says the Omega who got here by kissing up to the Alphas,” she said coolly.

A ripple of silence.

I didn’t flinch. I walked straight up to her.

“Do you want my spot?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Do you want it? Because you can take it if you think you’re better. But if you fall, you leave the field. Deal?”

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t speak.

I turned my back on her and faced the rest of the group.

“No more distractions. First test: endurance and relay coordination. You’re splitting into teams of five. One of you runs. One shifts and runs. One navigates obstacles. One shadows. One carries a live message to me without being caught. You’re choosing teams. Now.”

The field exploded into movement.

I watched, heart pounding.

This was it.

My challenge.

My storm.

And I wasn’t running from it anymore.

---

By the time the trials started, my voice was hoarse from calling commands. I tracked movement, watched timing, intercepted messages, challenged form, and pushed.

Some wolves tried to undermine me. Ran wide of the marked paths. Took shortcuts. Gave each other looks that meant she’s not watching.

But I was.

I caught them. Called them out. Made them restart.

Every. Single. Time.

The longer we trained, the more they started looking to me before asking what was next.

By midday, the whispers were changing.

Not gone.

But shifting.

Ronan stood quietly near the supply line, nodding when I passed him.

Jax gave a crooked grin, tossing me a water bottle mid-stride.

Jason clapped my shoulder when I corrected one of the male wolves who had tried to talk over me.

Becca? Becca just smiled.

Not proud. Not surprised.

Just… certain.

And for the first time, I felt it too.

I was leading.

And they were starting to follow.

The sun was climbing high, heat pressing down like weight on my shoulders, when the scent shifted.

We were mid-drill—half the pack weaving through a wooded course, the other half monitoring. Jason was shouting times. Becca marked scores in the dirt with a stick. Jax had just shifted back from wolf form and was stretching lazily in the grass like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And then it hit me.

Sharp. Wrong. Intrusion.

I raised my head. My wolf snapped awake beneath my skin.

“Did you smell that?” I asked Jason.

He went still.

Becca was already on her feet.

Jax growled softly, eyes narrowed on the tree line.

Ronan came from the far end of the course, jogging, clothes damp from sweat.

“Something’s off,” he said, before I even spoke. He always knew.

Then it happened.

A blur.

A blur of fur and sound, and a panicked yelp from one of the younger wolves in the back line. Three wolves—not ours—charged the edge of the course.

I didn’t think. I moved.

“Circle up!” I shouted, already sprinting to the nearest group. “Protect the younger trainees—Jax, right flank! Ronan, with me!”

The pack scrambled, but they moved. They listened.

The intruders weren’t here to kill—I could sense it. They were here to disrupt. To test. To rattle.

They weren’t rogues. They were scouts.

And they were fast.

Becca tackled one mid-lunge. Jason bared teeth and snapped at another who tried to flank from behind. I grabbed a trainee who’d frozen in place and shoved them toward cover.

Jax blurred into fur and launched into the fray, his massive wolf form knocking one of the invaders into the dirt with bone-crunching force.

Ronan was beside me in an instant.

“Two more circling left,” he said. “If we don’t stop them now, they’ll make it to the clearing.”

I nodded, adrenaline pounding. “Take one. I’ll intercept the other.”

He didn’t argue.

I ran. Hard. Fast. My wolf strained against my skin, urging me to shift, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until the kids were safe.

I caught the scout before he reached the edge. We collided hard, and I barely rolled away in time to avoid his jaws. He turned, snarling, and I planted my feet.

Then I roared.

It wasn’t human.

It wasn’t wolf.

It was alpha.

And for a split second, he hesitated.

That was all I needed.

I surged forward, slamming my elbow into his side. He faltered, then took off into the trees. Retreating. Scared.

The others followed.

All of them running.

Not defeated.

But warned.

---

The clearing was a mess. Trainees were shaken, some bruised. But no one was seriously injured.

Ronan wiped blood from his lip. Jax paced, half-shifted, his body vibrating with rage.

Becca knelt beside one of the stunned trainees. Jason barked orders, trying to settle the pack.

I stood in the center, heart racing, dirt on my knees, blood in my mouth.

But I was upright.

I was leading.

Ronan came to stand beside me.

“You held the line.”

Jax glanced over. “You made them run.“

My voice was hoarse. “They were scouts. They weren’t trying to hurt us. Just watch. Test.”

Becca looked up. “Someone sent them.”

Jason nodded grimly. “We need to report this. Fast.”

I met Ronan’s eyes.

I had led through it. And I wasn’t sure who I was more surprised by—them, for following me.

Or me, for not breaking.

Trial Prep was supposed to test our strength.

But this? This was something else.

And something was coming.

52 Apporval

The field had fallen quiet.

Not peaceful—never that. But the energy had shifted. The blood had been cleaned. The wounded had been treated. The scouts had vanished into the woods like ghosts, leaving only bruises, claw marks, and a bitter taste in our mouths.

I stood in the center of it all, barely holding it together.

Jax paced nearby, still half-shifted, his hands flexing like he wanted to rip the trees from the ground. Ronan leaned against a tree, blood crusting his knuckles. Becca and Jason stood watch by the outer ring, tense and still, keeping the trainees steady.

And then the scent hit us.

Power. Cold. Absolute.

Alpha Kane.

He moved through the trees like he owned them, wolves flanking him on both sides. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were all calculation.

Everyone stilled.

He stopped in front of me. Let the silence stretch.

“Report.”

My voice didn’t shake. “Three scouts. Possibly more watching. They hit the back line, targeted the younger wolves. No deaths. No serious injuries. They were fast, coordinated, and pulled out as soon as we pushed back.”

Kane’s gaze flicked to the others. “And who led the response?”

Jax opened his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“I did.”

Kane turned back to me. “And who authorized you to make command calls?”

My throat tightened. “You did. When you told me to lead the Trial Prep.”

A pause.

One long, brutal second of weight.

Then he stepped forward, into my space. Not threatening. Just close enough to remind me who he was.

“What did you feel, Lyra, when the attack started?”

I met his eyes. “Fear. Then instinct.”

“Instinct to run?”

“Instinct to fight. To protect the pack.”

He studied me for another moment. I could hear a few trainees whispering behind me. The entire field was holding its breath.

Then Kane turned.

To the others. To everyone.

“You all saw it. You all felt it. She didn’t fold. She led.“

A ripple of shock went through the group.

Kane’s voice sharpened.

“This wasn’t part of your trial. This was real. And some of you froze. Some of you ran. She didn’t.“

He looked over his shoulder at me. “There are those among you who still question her place here. Who still think bloodline or status makes you worthy of a title. But titles don’t win wars.”

He turned fully back to the group.

“Courage does. Command does. And today, she had both.”

I couldn’t move.

The pack was staring at me.

Not like I was a mistake.

Not like I was just an omega.

But like maybe—maybe—they saw me now.

Kane’s voice dropped low again, only for me.

“You still have to earn it. All of it. Every day. But this—this was a good start.”

Then he stepped away, barking new orders, shifting the flow of training, sending runners with messages. The pack dispersed, buzzed with a new kind of energy.

But I stayed frozen for a moment longer.

Until Jax stepped up beside me.

“Guess the Alpha approves.”

Ronan joined us on the other side. “Told you. You lead like a storm.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked out over the clearing.

They weren’t just watching me anymore.

They were waiting for what I would do next.

The field was still buzzing when Becca slipped in beside me and nudged my elbow.

“Walk with me.”

I blinked at her, still half-dazed from everything that had just happened, but my legs obeyed. We walked off the main trail toward a quieter patch of trees, just far enough that the noise dimmed into background static.

She didn’t speak at first.

Didn’t need to.

We sat on a fallen log that had long since been stripped smooth by wind and time. Becca picked up a twig and twirled it in her fingers, then finally looked at me.

“You did good, y’know.”

I tried to smile. It didn’t stick.

“Kane said it too,” I muttered. “In front of everyone.”

Becca gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well. He doesn’t hand those words out unless you practically bleed for them.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

She nodded slowly, almost like she’d expected that. “That’s how you know it matters. If it felt easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

I looked at her, unsure. “Do you think they believe it? The others. That I deserve to be here?”

“Does it matter?” she asked. “Because you didn’t wait for their belief before acting today. You led like someone who didn’t need permission.”

I let her words settle. Let them root in deeper places I hadn’t yet touched.

“You saw something in me the day I arrived,” I whispered. “When no one else did.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see it first. Your wolf did. You just hadn’t caught up yet.”

I smiled at that.

Then her face turned serious. “You’re not done. Not even close. The scouts weren’t the end. They were a test. Next time, it might be worse.”

“I know.”

“Then good. Let that fire stay sharp. Just… don’t carry it alone.”

She stood, offered me her hand.

I took it.

---

Back on the training field, the tone had shifted again. More drills were being set up—tracking, team strategy, defensive shifting. The weight of Kane’s declaration still hung in the air, but now it felt more like pressure than proof.

Jax met me near the obstacle rings.

“You breathe yet, or still holding it in from earlier?”

I huffed. “Just waiting for someone to tell me it was all a fluke.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head. “Then I’ll save them the trouble. You weren’t a fluke. You were a problem. A big one. For them. Because you made it harder for everyone else to pretend status still mattered.”

I blinked up at him. “Was that a compliment?”

Jax grinned. “Probably. Don’t get used to it.”

Before I could respond, Ronan approached with a clipboard in hand and no-nonsense in his eyes.

“We’re testing terrain awareness next. You’ll be leading the paired navigation. Pick your partner.”

He didn’t say pick me, but I felt it.

Jax raised a brow.

I looked between them and swallowed the tension.

“Then I pick both. We make it a three-part relay. I’ll start. Jax runs second. Ronan closes. We lead by example.”

Ronan blinked.

Jax whistled. “Damn. She just made the Alpha’s sons into her support staff.”

I rolled my eyes. “More like team captains. Get ready.”

We stepped onto the course together.

And I felt the eyes on me again.

Only this time, it wasn’t disbelief I saw.

It was respect.

And maybe something more.

53 Teeth and Thread

The wind sliced over the course as I stepped up to the starting line. The terrain ahead was marked by jagged stone, fallen branches, and thick patches of uneven grass—a deliberately chaotic stretch of woods to simulate real-world disruption.

The pack had gathered. They watched from the edge of the course, some perched on rocks, others standing with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

My heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear. It was adrenaline. Command.

“Ready?” Jason called from the side, stopwatch in hand.

I gave a sharp nod.

“Go!”

I launched forward.

The world narrowed to breath and ground. My feet tore over the dirt, dodging roots and scraping over slick leaves. Each twist of the trail tried to slow me down, but I knew this terrain. I read it like instinct. Like breath.

My wolf surged beneath my skin, guiding me with flickers of intention—duck left, leap now, keep your weight low.

I moved.

And when I reached the checkpoint, Jax was already crouched, waiting to take over.

I slammed the leather strap into his hand. Our fingers brushed—heat flared.

Not just energy.

Tension.

His eyes locked with mine for a half-second too long.

Then he exploded forward.

His leg of the course was built for speed: hills, soft dirt, and long clearings meant for burst runs. Jax blurred into motion, half-shifting mid-stride. It made him faster, more fluid.

Wolves murmured. I heard someone say “damn” under their breath.

He took the incline with a reckless grin, vaulting over a low tree trunk like it was nothing.

And when he reached the top ridge, he didn’t stop.

He leapt.

The crowd gasped as he twisted mid-air and landed hard—then sprinted full force to the next marker.

Ronan stood waiting, already poised like a coiled spring. Jax threw the strap to him and clapped his shoulder.

No words. Just a look.

Then Ronan ran.

Where mine was all calculation and Jax’s was raw power, Ronan’s stretch of the course was precision.

It was built like a maze. Tight paths, hidden pitfalls, narrow slopes.

And he moved like he could see the course before it revealed itself.

Smooth. Cold. Fast.

Not a single wasted motion.

I watched, breath caught, as he slid under a low branch, rebounded off a tree, and climbed the ridge without a break in pace. The pack was quiet now—eyes tracking him, silent.

When he crossed the finish line and the stopwatch clicked, Jason let out a long whistle.

“That might be a new record.”

My legs shook as I approached them.

Jax was still catching his breath, sweat clinging to his collarbone. Ronan hadn’t even broken a sweat. Of course.

He handed me the strap. “Good start.”

“You were brutal,” I murmured.

“You were faster than last time,” Jax said, brushing a hand over my back. “Not bad for a little omega.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile slipped through.

The others stared at us.

Not because we failed.

But because we ran like a unit.

Like a pack.

Like we belonged.

The course had been cleared. The crowd had dispersed. And the sun had started its lazy descent toward the trees.

Our trio lingered in the quiet.

I sat on a worn stretch of grass beneath the shadow of a crooked pine, legs stretched in front of me, palms planted behind me to hold my weight. My chest still heaved with the last of my breath. Every muscle ached.

Jax sprawled nearby on his back, arms behind his head, his shirt clinging damply to his chest. Ronan leaned against a tree across from me, arms folded, eyes unreadable. We hadn’t said much since the race ended. But the silence wasn’t empty.

It buzzed.

With something I didn’t have words for yet.

“You made me look slow out there,” Jax finally muttered, throwing a small pinecone toward Ronan.

“You are slow,” Ronan said without looking at him.

Jax snorted. “Heard that, Lyra? Witnessed the disrespect.”

I chuckled under my breath. “You jumped off a ridge just to prove a point. I don’t think slow is your problem.”

“See? She gets me.”

Ronan pushed off the tree and came closer, sitting down a few feet from me. Close enough that I felt the warmth of him. Not touching, but still.

Jax lifted his head slightly, watching the space.

The tension slid in like a fog. Heavy. Slow. Saturating the air between us.

I looked between them.

Ronan’s jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. Jax looked too casual. Too relaxed.

Too carefully pretending not to care.

I ran my fingers through the grass, grounding myself.

“You two okay?” I asked quietly.

“We’re fine,” Ronan said.

Jax didn’t respond right away. Then, “Define okay.”

Ronan’s eyes narrowed.

I pushed up to sit straighter. “You both promised to keep this from turning into a war.”

“Not starting a war,” Jax said lightly. “Just… watching the front lines.”

Ronan’s voice was low. “Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.”

Jax’s gaze flicked to me.

And something in his eyes tightened.

“And some bonds don’t ask for permission.”

That hung between us.

I exhaled slowly. My wolf stirred inside me, restless and alert.

“I don’t want to break this,” I said softly. “But I can’t pretend the tension isn’t there. Not when it’s everywhere.“

Ronan looked at me then. Really looked. “It was easier before the kiss.”

Jax tensed. ”Which kiss?”

Silence.

My cheeks flushed. I dropped my gaze to my hands.

Ronan let out a breath and stood. “This won’t work if we keep pretending. But it also won’t work if we tear it apart just to claim pieces.”

He turned and started walking, boots crunching over leaves.

Jax stayed behind.

His voice was softer when he said, “Don’t let him walk away from you. Not if it’s real.”

I looked at him. “And what if it’s real with both of you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we’re already burning. Just haven’t figured out who survives the fire.”

I didn’t know how to answer.

So I said nothing.

And the silence said everything.

54 A Crack in Quiet

I caught up to him just past the edge of the field, the trees closing in like shadows stitched with bark.

“Ronan.”

He didn’t stop at first.

The silence between us stretched like a wire pulled too tight. Then, finally, he slowed. Turned.

The light hit his face sideways. His jaw was locked, brows drawn in, eyes dark with something he wasn’t letting out.

“I shouldn’t have said that in front of him,” I said. My voice was low. Careful. “The kiss.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong.”

But he didn’t look at me.

I stepped closer. “Then why does it feel like I did?”

He leaned back against a tree and folded his arms, like if he didn’t hold himself together, he might fly apart.

“Because everything between us is a complication.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

His jaw tightened.

“You felt it too. That kiss… the bond. You can’t deny that.”

He finally looked at me.

And gods, that look. It was heat and ache and grief all at once.

“No, Lyra. I can’t. But I can’t deny the damage either. What it could do to him. To you. To this pack.”

I moved until I stood right in front of him. Just inches.

“You don’t get to carry the weight alone. You don’t get to make the choice for me.”

“I’m not trying to choose for you,” he snapped. “I’m trying to keep you from getting torn apart in a war you didn’t start.”

“Maybe I did start it,” I whispered. “Maybe I made it worse by not choosing. By letting myself want both of you.”

That stopped him.

The mask cracked.

He reached out, fingers brushing my cheek. Slow. Reverent.

“I would give anything to claim you. To end this now.”

My breath hitched. “Then why haven’t you?”

His hand curled into a fist, falling back to his side.

“Because the moment I do, Jax will never look at me the same again. And I don’t want to lose my brother.”

“And what about me?”

He looked like I’d struck him.

“If I walk away… I lose you.“

My heart pounded. Everything inside me screamed to close the gap, to touch him, to end the distance.

I stepped into him.

His breath hitched.

Our foreheads nearly touched.

“Then don’t walk away.”

His voice broke. “Lyra…”

I kissed him.

This time, it wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t a maybe. It was everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d buried under duty and fear and brotherhood.

His hands tangled in my hair. Mine gripped the front of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested together. Eyes closed. Breathing ragged.

“You know this changes everything,” he said.

“It already did.”

He exhaled shakily. “Then we face it. Together.”

I nodded against him.

And for that moment, the world outside the trees didn’t matter.

Only this did.

---

The morning air was sharp and damp, dew clinging to every blade of grass. My hair stuck to the side of my neck as I pulled on my jacket outside the cabin, nerves tight and thin like string.

I hadn’t slept much. My lips still felt warm.

Ronan had walked me back in silence last night. Not cold. Not distant. Just silent in a way that said everything and nothing at once. We hadn’t spoken after the kiss. Not really. Just stood at my door, hands brushing, eyes lingering until he turned and left.

Now the sun had barely risen, and the field was already stirring.

And so was Jax.

He was waiting near the main cabin steps, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. But his shoulders were stiff. His jaw clenched just slightly too tight.

He saw me the second I stepped into the clearing.

And I knew.

He knew.

I slowed my steps, dread building behind my ribs. Jax pushed off the post and walked toward me, not fast, not angry—but with purpose.

“Morning,” he said flatly.

I nodded. “Morning.”

A beat passed.

“So… you and Ronan.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even laced with bitterness.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

Measured.

“It wasn’t planned,” I said.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

He looked past me, toward the trail leading to the training grounds. “He came back late. Real late. Didn’t even look at me. Didn’t have to.”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” His tone stayed even. “But you did choose.”

I stepped forward. “It doesn’t mean I care about you any less. It’s not that simple.”

Jax laughed. A sharp, broken sound.

“Lyra, nothing about you has ever been simple. That’s part of the problem. And part of why I…” He trailed off.

I searched his face. “Why you what?”

He looked down. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“It does matter,” I said, stepping closer. “Because you matter.”

His eyes lifted, stormy and raw. “Then why wasn’t I enough?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Jax… it’s not about being enough. It’s about a pull I can’t explain. It just… is.“

He shook his head slowly. “I felt it too, Lyra. The bond. The heat. The want. It wasn’t just him. You felt it with me. You know it.”

I nodded, tears biting the corners of my eyes. “I do. I still feel it. But the bond with Ronan—it snapped first. I didn’t choose it. I felt it.”

“But you did choose him.”

His voice wasn’t accusing.

Just tired.

Just wounded.

I reached for his arm. He let me touch him. Didn’t pull away.

But he didn’t lean in, either.

“So what now?” I asked, barely a whisper.

Jax looked toward the trees. “Now we train. Now we finish the Trials. And after that… we see what’s still standing.”

He turned and walked away.

I stood alone.

And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel like I was caught between them.

I felt like I was losing both.

55 Measured in Blood and Will

They called us to the central clearing just after sunrise.

No explanation. No prep. No warning.

Just a line of senior instructors, a few younger warriors watching from the edges, and Alpha Kane himself at the head of it all.

He looked sharper than usual. No smile. No indulgence.

Just expectation.

Ronan stood off to the side, arms folded, eyes neutral. He didn’t meet mine.

Jax hadn’t shown up yet.

Jason gave me a short nod as I stepped into the marked circle in the middle of the field. I could feel the weight of every pair of eyes pressing against me.

Becca lingered nearby, silent support. But this was mine to carry.

Kane’s voice rang out.

“Today, we test leadership under chaos. You are not given orders. You are not given time. You are simply given a crisis.”

I tensed.

He gestured.

“Your team will be assembled at random. You will lead them. You will direct them. And you will either rise, or fall.”

He looked to Jason. Jason stepped forward and read off names.

Becca. Two warriors from the outer training ring I didn’t know well. A young omega boy who looked no older than sixteen. And me.

My stomach flipped.

Kane spoke again.

“Your scenario: One of your territory borders is breached. Scouts have confirmed enemy movement through forested ground. You are to track, identify, and redirect the threat before it reaches your village perimeter. You have twenty minutes.”

I blinked. “That’s not long enough.”

He smiled thinly.

“It never is.”

A loud whistle blew.

I turned fast.

“Becca, you’re with me. We track northeast. You—” I pointed to one of the warriors. “Circle south and keep your eyes sharp for signs of entry. I want signals every three minutes. If contact is made, howl twice and retreat back to this location.”

The team hesitated.

Not Becca, but the others. Doubt flickered in their eyes. The younger omega fidgeted.

“If you want to pass this trial, you’ll listen,” I snapped, louder than I meant. “You don’t have to trust me. Just follow. We don’t have time for pride.”

Something shifted in their stance.

And then we ran.

The woods were thick. I kept my nose open, my ears straining.

My wolf pulsed beneath the surface, alert and alive.

“There,” Becca hissed, pointing at a snapped branch to our left.

I dropped to a crouch and traced the bark. “Fresh. Within minutes. They’re close.”

Behind me, the younger omega stumbled over a root. I reached back and caught his wrist before he fell.

He looked up at me, wide-eyed.

“You’re not dead yet,” I whispered. “Keep moving.”

We pushed forward, weaving through thickets and mud, moving silent and fast. At minute twelve, the first howl rang out—two sharp notes.

Contact.

“Back! Everyone back! Regroup!”

We met near a hollow ridge just past the stream. The second warrior had a gash across his arm, not deep but messy.

“Ambush,” he muttered. “Two of them. Fangs out. Didn’t chase.”

I turned to the younger omega.

“You’re the fastest. You run back to Kane and deliver what we’ve found. Tell him we need backup on the east ridge.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes. You’re smart and you’re fast and you won’t fail. Go. Now.”

He ran.

I turned back to the others.

“We hold this ground until relief arrives. Anyone who doesn’t want to be here, leave now.”

No one moved.

Becca smirked beside me. “Look at you, Commander.”

I breathed in slow. Felt the ache in my lungs, the pulse of my blood.

Twenty minutes later, the trial whistle blew.

We returned to the clearing.

Alpha Kane stood waiting.

“Three injuries, no fatalities. Team returned with full report. Enemy located and redirected.”

He eyed me.

“And led by the girl the pack nearly threw out in her first week.”

I didn’t flinch.

He smiled, slow and dark.

“Interesting.”

And for the first time, I saw the shadow of something new behind his gaze.

Not disdain.

Not curiosity.

Possibility.

The woods had settled. The whistle had long faded. And the tension that had coiled around my spine during the trial finally began to unwind.

We sat in a loose circle near the edge of the clearing. Becca stretched out on a fallen log beside me, her braid half undone, boots muddy. The young omega boy—Tate, I learned—sat cross-legged in the grass, rubbing his scraped palms with a stunned sort of pride. One of the warriors leaned back against a tree, the other already nodding off in the sun.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was filling someone else’s space.

I was just in it.

“You were calm,” Tate said. “Even when it got scary.”

I smiled faintly. “I was scared. I just didn’t let it stop me.”

He nodded, like that was something new to consider. Like fear could exist alongside strength.

Becca nudged my boot with hers. “They’ll stop calling you dead weight after this.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to say aloud how much that mattered to me.

The warrior who’d been gashed tossed a pinecone between his hands. “You didn’t hesitate. That’s what caught me off guard. Most new leaders panic. You didn’t.”

“I didn’t have time to,” I murmured. “I was too busy trying not to get anyone killed.”

“That’s leadership,” he said. “You’re getting there.”

The words sank deeper than I let on.

They lingered even after the group began to drift away, pulled back to their next task or a well-earned nap. Becca gave me a long look before leaving, the kind that said We’ll talk later, and then I was alone.

Or I thought I was.

“You looked like a leader out there.”

Ronan’s voice came from behind me.

I turned. He stood near the edge of the tree line, still in training gear, a faint sheen of sweat across his brow. His expression was unreadable—but his eyes gave him away.

Pride. Pain. And something else that felt a lot like hunger.

“You watched?”

He nodded once.

“Kane was impressed,” he added. “Doesn’t say it outright, but I know that look. He’s watching you now. Really watching.”

I exhaled. The praise warmed me, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat in my chest.

“Jax didn’t come.”

Ronan’s jaw flexed. “He needed space. After everything… I didn’t push him.”

I nodded. “I feel like I’m losing him.”

“You might be.”

The honesty stung, but I appreciated it more than lies.

“And what about you?” I asked.

He stepped closer. “What about me?”

I held his gaze. “You said we’d face it together. But what if that’s not enough? What if choosing you means breaking everything else?”

He didn’t flinch.

“Then let it break. And we build something new.”

I swallowed hard. “Even if it means losing him?”

“I don’t want to lose Jax,” he said softly. “But I won’t lose you either. I won’t trade one bond for another. I want both. My family. And you.”

His hand brushed mine. Gentle. Careful.

I closed the distance.

“You keep saying the right things.”

“They’re not just words.”

I leaned into him, forehead to chest. His arms folded around me, and for a breath, I let it all go—the pressure, the fear, the ache.

Just us.

“Do you think we can really hold this together?” I asked quietly.

“No. I think we’ll fall apart a dozen times first.”

He pressed a kiss into my hair.

“But I’ll still choose you every time.”

And for the first time since the fire began, I let myself believe him.

56 Sparks On The Mat

The training ring smelled like salt and sweat. Morning heat clung to my skin before I’d even moved. The mat in front of me was empty save for one name called aloud by the instructor:

“Lyra. Jax.”

My body went still.

I saw him across the clearing. Shirt rolled to his elbows, jaw tight, eyes unreadable as he stepped into the center of the ring. He hadn’t looked at me since the trial. Not once.

Until now.

I stepped forward slowly, each footfall echoing louder than it should have. My heartbeat wasn’t steady. Not from nerves. From him.

From what had broken between us.

We faced each other, the rest of the class forming a loose circle around the mat. The instructor called out, “Close-quarters sparring. Full contact. Control your strength.”

Jax raised his brows. “Can you handle full contact, or should I go easy on you?”

I gave him a flat look. “I just led a team through a rogue ambush. I think I’ll survive.”

Something like a smirk flickered on his mouth, but it never reached his eyes.

“Good.”

Then he lunged.

We collided with the rhythm of wolves and memory. His arm wrapped around my waist, mine hooked behind his knee. I twisted, he countered. Our bodies slammed and spun, and the crowd blurred into background noise.

All I could hear was my breath. His breath. The tension in every hit that didn’t quite go for damage. The pauses that lasted a half-second too long.

He swept my legs. I hit the mat and rolled. Got back up.

“You’re hesitating,” he said.

“So are you.”

“Only because I remember how you kissed him.”

The words were low. Aimed like a dagger between my ribs.

I shot forward, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over my hip. He hit the mat with a thud. But he was already rising.

We were inches apart now.

Breath mingling. Sweat between us. Something ancient and raw under our skin.

He didn’t move.

Neither did I.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.

“You did.”

“I still feel the bond with you. I still want—”

His hand gripped my arm. Firm. But not hard.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

My pulse raced.

I didn’t know what this was.

Still love? Leftover heat? Or something that refused to let go?

Before I could speak, the instructor clapped.

“Switch.”

We stepped apart. But Jax’s fingers lingered on mine for just a breath too long.

When I turned away, my chest felt tight. And my wolf was restless.

Because this fight wasn’t over.

Not even close.

I didn’t realize how hard I was shaking until I made it off the mat.

The next spar began without me. I heard the crowd shift, heard the instructor bark names, but the sound faded beneath the thundering pulse in my ears.

I moved to the side of the clearing, toward the tree line, and crouched behind a tall hedge of brush, hands braced on my knees.

My body was fine. A little sore. A little bruised. But nothing compared to the way my chest ached.

The bond hadn’t faded.

It was still there. Just under the surface.

Jax’s heat had left a mark on my skin, but it was the look in his eyes that split me open.

He was still there.

Still hoping.

And gods help me, so was I.

“You did good.”

I looked up. Becca stood a few feet away, arms crossed, hair pulled back tight like she’d been ready to intercept me.

I tried to breathe steady. “I lost control.”

“You held your ground. That’s not the same thing.”

I pressed a hand to my ribs. “I said too much.”

“Or maybe just enough.”

Becca crouched beside me. “Lyra, I don’t know what’s going on between the three of you—and honestly, I’m not sure anyone wants to know. But from the outside, it looks a lot like you’re breaking your own heart trying to hold theirs.”

That made something sharp twist inside me.

“I kissed Ronan,” I said quietly. “Twice now. And I still feel the bond with Jax. I still want… both.”

“You’re not broken, you know.”

I looked at her. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

Becca sat beside me in the grass. “Because no one ever taught you what it means to want for yourself. You were told to follow, to obey, to survive. Now you’re feeling, and it terrifies you.”

I swallowed hard. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

“He looked at me like he still believed in us.”

“Then maybe it’s not over. Or maybe it is. But either way, you deserve to face it with clarity—not guilt.”

The wind blew through the trees. I stared at the canopy, light flickering like scattered gold.

“He asked me not to say it unless I meant it,” I whispered.

“Did you?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I wasn’t sure.

And that might’ve hurt more than anything.

57 Third Point of View

(Third-Person — Ronan)

Ronan stood at the far edge of the practice field, arms folded, jaw locked tight as he watched Lyra disappear behind the tree line.

He had seen the whole thing.

The way she and Jax moved—like magnets with teeth. The strike and sweep of limbs, the heat that pulsed between them. The words that drifted out too faint for most to hear, but not him.

I still feel the bond with you.

He’d heard it. He’d felt it in his spine like a second hit.

And he’d stood still.

Jax had kissed her once, sure. But what they just shared on that mat wasn’t leftover emotion. It was current. It was alive.

It was everything Ronan had tried to bury.

He turned away from the crowd before anyone noticed his expression shift. Before his control frayed completely.

He walked fast, slipping behind the storage cabin, letting the door shut behind him with a hollow thud. The air inside was stale. Empty. Safe.

He leaned his back against the wall and breathed.

Just breathed.

He had told Lyra he’d choose her. That he would be steady, patient. That they could survive this. But he hadn’t expected it to burn this much.

It wasn’t just jealousy.

It was doubt.

Not in her.

In himself.

He could fight a dozen wolves, track rogues through the ice-ridden mountains, and lead field units without breaking.

But standing still while she looked at someone else like he was still hers?

That was the kind of pain Ronan hadn’t trained for.

He sank down onto the floor, arms braced over his knees. His wolf shifted inside him, restless and half-wild, wanting to do something—to challenge, to mark, to claim.

But Ronan knew better.

Lyra was not a prize.

She was not a claim to be made.

She was fire. And shadow. And choice.

And if he meant what he said—that he would choose her no matter what—then he had to let her burn. Even if it scorched him.

The door creaked.

Ronan lifted his head. Jason stepped in, eyes sharp.

“You saw?” Jason asked.

Ronan didn’t nod. Didn’t have to.

Jason leaned against the opposite wall. “He’s hurting too, you know.”

“That doesn’t make this any easier.”

Jason studied him. “You still in it? Even knowing it might tear you both up?”

Ronan looked at the floor for a long moment, then back up.

“Yeah.”

His voice was hoarse, but steady.

“Yeah. I’m still in it.”

Because love wasn’t supposed to be easy.

And if Lyra was still deciding—still feeling it all so sharply—then maybe that meant she hadn’t walked away yet either.

And maybe that was enough.

For now.

58 what we dont say

It started with Becca giving me that look again.

We were halfway through cooldown stretches, the sun starting to drop behind the ridge, casting everything in long gold shadows. I was sore, drained, and still floating somewhere between guilt and confusion after sparring with Jax.

“He’s still here,” she said under her breath.

I followed her line of sight. Jax stood near the water trough, arms braced on either side, head down like the weight of the day was finally catching up.

“So?” I muttered, grabbing my canteen.

Becca turned to face me fully. “So go talk to him. Or I swear to the Moon I’ll drag both of you into the storage room and lock the door until you say something.“

I blinked. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And before I could object, she whistled.

“Jax!”

He looked up. His gaze snapped to mine like he already knew. Like he’d felt it coming.

Becca smiled sweetly. “Lyra has something to say.”

Then she was gone.

And I was left standing under the stretch of sky with my stomach flipping and my heart in my throat.

Jax didn’t move. Not right away. But after a long moment, he pushed off the trough and walked toward me.

Each step pulled tighter at the knot in my chest.

We stopped a few feet apart. Close enough to smell the forest on his skin. Close enough to feel the heat still rolling off him.

“Becca,” he said dryly.

I nodded. “Becca.”

A silence stretched.

“You gonna say something?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

He snorted, low and bitter. “I want a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I’ll get them.”

I winced. “I didn’t mean to rip everything apart.”

“But you did.”

“And I can’t fix it by pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Then don’t pretend. Just say it. Say what you want, Lyra. Not what you think we need to hear. Not what keeps the peace. What you want.”

I swallowed hard.

“I want… both of you. I want the part of me that burns when I look at you. I want the bond that didn’t snap but still pulls. I want Ronan too. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Jax shook his head, stepping back like it physically pained him. “You can’t split a bond in half and expect it not to bleed.”

“I’m already bleeding.”

His eyes locked on mine. Furious. Heartbroken. Wanting.

“Then why does it feel like you’re still running the other direction?”

“Because if I step toward one of you, I feel like I’m betraying the other. And I can’t breathe when I’m torn in two.”

“Then stop choosing.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Stop trying to choose. Stop trying to fix this like it’s a test you can pass. Just… be in it. Let it hurt. Let it twist. But stop pretending that one of us has to win.”

My voice cracked. “And what if it doesn’t work? What if this—all of it—breaks us anyway?”

Jax stepped forward, close enough that our shadows touched.

“Then at least we broke it honestly.“

He reached up, fingers brushing my cheek.

“I don’t hate you. I never could. But if you’re gonna love both of us, Lyra… you better stop acting like you’re not brave enough to mean it.”

And then he walked away.

Leaving my heart a little fuller.

And a lot more wrecked.

59 The Final Trial

The air crackled with expectation.

By dawn, the entire pack had gathered outside the arena. Some perched on rocky ledges overlooking the wide circular ground, others sat on logs or crouched in the grass, buzzing with quiet conversation. The sun had barely broken over the hills, but the air was already heavy with tension.

Today was the final pack-wide trial.

And somehow, I was still here.

I stood near the entrance to the field, shoulders rolled back, hair tied tight, nerves barely concealed under a calm exterior. Behind me, Becca tightened her gloves with quiet precision. Jason gave me a nod, his usually sarcastic demeanor replaced by a focused steel.

Ronan and Jax hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday—not really. But they stood near, each radiating heat and storm in different directions. We hadn’t resolved anything, not fully. But they were here. Still choosing to stand beside me.

Alpha Kane stepped into the center of the ring, his voice booming without needing to raise it.

“Today is the final trial of this year’s leadership prep. You will face physical, mental, and tactical challenges. Teamwork is not optional. Trust is essential. And hesitation could be dangerous.”

He looked around. His eyes rested on me for a beat longer than the others.

“Let this test reveal who leads not from instinct alone, but with purpose.”

He stepped back. And with a sharp whistle, it began.

---

The first challenge was terrain navigation.

We were released into the forest in pairs, ordered to reach five checkpoints across rough terrain within two hours. I was paired with a lean, skeptical warrior named Mara who clearly wasn’t thrilled to be with me.

“Don’t fall behind,” she muttered as we sprinted through the trees.

I didn’t. In fact, I overtook her by the third checkpoint, barking a warning just in time to save us both from triggering a snare trap. She didn’t say thank you. But she stayed closer after that.

By the time we reached the final marker, soaked in sweat and scratches, I felt a shift. Not in her. In me.

I wasn’t just surviving.

I was leading.

---

The second challenge hit harder.

We were herded back into the arena. This time, it wasn’t just physical. Each candidate had to make a judgment call based on a scenario. Lives, territory, and reputation were all on the line in the simulation.

When my turn came, Kane himself read the scenario: A rogue wolf had crossed into pack land. He had a wounded pup with him. He was not attacking but refused to surrender.

“Do you order your patrol to capture, negotiate, or allow passage?”

I hesitated.

A wrong answer could signal weakness. But brutality wasn’t strength either.

I met Kane’s eyes.

“I negotiate. I show that we are strong enough to listen before we strike. But I send backup to watch from the ridge in case it turns.”

The arena was silent.

Then Kane nodded. “Noted.”

---

The final challenge broke more than bodies.

Group combat. Five teams. One objective: defend your base while attempting to seize control of others.

I was assigned to lead one unit. My team included Tate, Becca, Jason, and Mara.

And both Jax and Ronan were on the opposing side.

Tate trembled. Mara rolled her eyes. Becca smirked. “They’re going to come for you hard.”

I set my jaw. “Then we hit harder.”

We fought. Gods, we fought.

Dirt flew. Tactics clashed. I led with every ounce of strategy I had left—feints, cover shifts, flanking movements. We lost ground. We gained it back. At one point, Jax tackled me into the mud, growling with such intensity it stole my breath—but his hands were careful, his eyes full of warning and longing.

“You’re not getting out of this easy,” he whispered before letting me go.

Ronan came later. Silent. Precise. He pinned Jason and came for our flag—only to stop short when I stepped into his path. Our eyes met. He didn’t strike.

And neither did I.

But my team swept in behind me and held the line.

We didn’t win.

But we didn’t lose either.

When the whistle blew, and Alpha Kane walked out again, he looked at the entire arena.

“This wasn’t about perfection. It was about pressure.”

Then his eyes landed on me.

“And pressure reveals who we are.”

He didn’t say I passed.

He didn’t have to.

I stood taller, mud in my hair, bruises blooming beneath my skin, and felt something in me settle for the first time in weeks.

I wasn’t the outcast anymore.

I wasn’t the omega in hiding.

I was pack.

The celebration began before the sun even set.

Drums echoed in the valley, low and rhythmic, rolling like thunder through the trees. Fires lit up around the clearing, flickering gold and red as laughter spilled into the evening air.

For once, it wasn’t tense. It wasn’t about proving myself.

It was joy.

I stood by the edge of the central fire, breath caught in my throat as packmates I’d barely spoken to now greeted me with nods, smiles, even claps on the shoulder. Mara handed me a drink with a quiet, “You earned it.” Jason shoved a plate into my hands with a crooked grin. “Finally not just the mysterious girl from the mountains, huh?”

Even Tate—who once couldn’t look me in the eye without flinching—raised his cup in silent respect.

Something in my chest began to melt.

The tension I’d carried since I crossed the border.

The ache of being the outsider.

It was changing.

Becca leaned in close. “They see you now, Lyra. Not the rank. Not the rumors. You.“

Before I could answer, Alpha Kane’s voice rose over the drums.

“Silence.”

And the pack listened.

He stood by the fire in full Alpha form, shoulders broad, power radiating off him like heat. His eyes found mine.

“Step forward.”

My feet moved without thought. Every eye followed me as I walked into the circle of light.

“This pack has rules,” Kane said, his voice deep and measured. “But above all, it has instinct. It knows when someone belongs.”

He turned toward me. “Lyra. You crossed into this territory as an omega cast out. But you did not cower. You worked. You fought. You led.”

His voice dropped, more personal now.

“You showed us that leadership is not born of rank. It is earned in fire.”

My throat tightened.

Kane raised a carved wooden bowl filled with ash and earth. “With this ritual, you will be formally bound to the pack. Not as an outsider. Not as a castoff. But as one of us.“

He dipped his thumb into the bowl and pressed it to my forehead.

It was cool. Heavy. Grounding.

“Do you accept us as your pack?”

I swallowed hard. “I do.”

“Then we accept you.”

The fire roared higher. Wolves around us howled in unison, the sound raw and powerful. I felt it echo through my bones, through my wolf.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was trying to belong.

I did.

Ronan and Jax stepped into the circle last. Ronan met my eyes, proud and quiet. Jax grinned faintly, and for once, there was no bitterness in it.

They both placed their hands on my shoulders, silent but strong.

I closed my eyes, breathing it in.

I was still unsure of where my heart would land.

But I knew who I was now.

I was Lyra.

I was pack.

60 The Pull of Fire

I woke to pain.

Not the kind you can grit your teeth through. Not a bruise or sprain. This was deeper. A clawing ache that started low in my spine and pulsed outward in waves of molten heat.

At first, I thought I was sick. My skin burned, drenched in sweat. My wolf thrashed beneath my skin, wild and desperate. My breathing came in shallow gasps.

Then I felt them.

Two sparks. No—not sparks. Infernos. One to the north, the other to the east. Both tethered to something deep inside me, pulling like magnets dragged across bone.

Ronan. Jax.

My heat had started.

And it wasn’t just overwhelming. It was devastating.

I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t speak. My body pulsed with need, but not just physical—instinctual. Primal. The mate bond surged through me like lightning striking the same place over and over again.

I tried to scream, but only a strangled sob came out.

The cabin door slammed open.

“Lyra!”

Ronan.

He rushed to my side, eyes wild, nostrils flared, his wolf right beneath his skin.

“It’s started,” he rasped. “I can feel it—I feel you.”

I reached for him, barely conscious of it. Just a whisper of my fingers against his arm and he shuddered like he’d been punched.

Then Jax was there.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes locked on mine, blazing with heat and something darker—need.

Ronan snapped his head toward him, growling. “Don’t.”

“You think I can help it?! I feel it too!”

The air in the cabin became thick with tension, their growls vibrating through the floor. My body trembled. Their proximity made it worse. Or maybe it was better. I didn’t know anymore.

“She’s in pain,” Jax said tightly. “We need to do something.”

Ronan’s voice broke. “She’s not ready.”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

A sharp knock came from the doorway, followed by Jason’s voice. “We need to move her. Now. Other wolves are starting to scent it.”

That’s when I realized I could hear them. Outside. Growling. Pacing.

The heat wasn’t just affecting them. It was affecting everyone.

They tried to carry me between them, but my legs buckled. My head lolled. My wolf surged forward, desperate for relief, for claiming.

By the time we reached the pack infirmary, chaos was unfolding. Several unmated males had been restrained. Windows had to be shut. Doors sealed. And through all of it, I felt like I was burning alive.

The doctor rushed forward. “She needs to be sedated.”

“No!” Ronan growled. “She needs her mate.“

“And which one of you is that?” the doctor snapped.

Silence.

Both.

Neither backed down.

I curled in on myself, shaking, my skin too hot, my bones too raw.

And then Kane arrived.

His presence cut through the tension like a blade. “Get the Elders. Now.”

---

It didn’t take long. The Elder Hall was always on standby for something like this. But when the silver-haired sage named Elder Marek stepped forward, even Kane gave a nod of deference.

“What you’re dealing with,” Marek said, examining me with a gaze that saw far more than just skin, “is rare. Not unheard of. But rare.”

Kane folded his arms. “She’s bonded to both sons.”

Marek nodded. “Yes. She is. And her wolf is demanding what the body cannot resolve.”

“So what’s the solution?” Kane asked, voice rough.

“The claiming must be done by both. Or not at all.”

The silence that followed was stunned.

Ronan turned toward him. “That’s… allowed?”

“It is blessed,” Marek said simply. “In ancient lines, the bond can split and double, weaving through more than one soul when the heart holds space for both. You may not understand it. But your wolves do.”

Jax looked down at me, his hands clenched at his sides.

“She won’t survive another day like this.”

“Then make your choice,” the Elder said. “Or let her die from it.”

---

They stood over me. Fire and shadow. Storm and stone.

And I knew, through the haze of agony, that something irreversible was about to happen.

I just hoped I would still be me on the other side of it.

The air was thick with heat, with the storm of everything we’d held back for too long. I lay between them, their presence anchoring me, even as my heart raced like it was trying to escape my chest.

Ronan hovered above me, his amber eyes flickering with restraint and reverence. Jax knelt at my side, his fingers brushing my ribs with a gentleness I hadn’t expected from someone so wild.

My wolf had gone still—not gone, not quiet, just… waiting.

Waiting for the moment that would make us whole.

I reached for them both. My fingers curled into Ronan’s shirt, and I found Jax’s hand and squeezed. My breath hitched.

“I want this,” I whispered. “I want you. Both of you.”

Ronan bent his head, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was reverent and grounding. His hand slid to my hip, holding me like I was something precious. Jax kissed the base of my throat, just beneath my jaw—slow, warm, and possessive.

Their touches weren’t rushed. They weren’t frantic. They were deliberate. Every breath shared, every stroke of skin, was a promise.

Clothes fell away in pieces, and so did the last of our hesitation.

I gasped when Ronan moved against me, his lips on my chest, his hand cupping the back of my neck. Jax traced his hand down my thigh, murmuring my name against my skin like a spell.

We moved together, slowly at first, instinct guiding the rhythm we found. There was no chaos now. No confusion.

Only need. Only bond.

As Ronan moved within me, he held my gaze, eyes wide and wet. His forehead pressed to mine, and the moment our wolves aligned, I felt it—his fangs lengthening, breath hitching.

“Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Mark me.”

His bite was swift. Sharp. A bloom of heat, then peace. The moment he sank his fangs into the curve of my neck, I felt my wolf surge forward in joy.

The bond snapped into place.

And I felt his love crash into me like a tide.

He eased away, letting Jax take his place. Ronan held my hand the entire time, his eyes locked with mine as Jax kissed his way down my stomach.

Jax was fire. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t hesitate. When he entered me, I cried out, clutching his back, overwhelmed by the sheer rawness of the feeling.

My bond with Ronan didn’t dim.

It welcomed Jax.

Our wolves wove tighter with every movement, every kiss, every growl of approval.

When Jax leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, he whispered, “Mine.”

I bared my throat.

“Do it.”

His fangs sank into the opposite side of my neck, and light exploded behind my eyes.

I screamed—not from pain, but from completion.

Ronan pressed his hand to my chest.

Jax buried his face in my throat.

And I was theirs.

Both of them.

Marked. Chosen. Claimed.

Our bond pulsed like a second heartbeat between us.

As I slipped into sleep, tangled between them, all I could feel was peace.

My heat was over.

But our story was just beginning.