Jamie's POV
I don't remember the exact moment I lost the strength in my legs, but I remember falling.
And I remember Andrew catching me.
He lifted me in his arms, bridal style, as if I weighed nothing. Like carrying me wasn't a burden but an honour. And in that single motion, he kissed me.
Not a gentle, cautious kiss.
A kiss that anchored me. That claimed me. That reminded the entire world—Alpha or not—we were each other's.
Gasps echoed through the sacred cave. Some shocked. Some relevant.
But I didn't hear them.
All I heard was the sound of our foreheads locking together, breaths mingling, and the soft, barely audible words Andrew whispered against my lips.
"You came back to me."
"Always would."
A silent conversation passed between us, heart to heart, too sacred to be spoken aloud.
Then I noticed her.
The witch. Still kneeling. Head bowed not to me, but to whatever I had become.
It unsettled me.
She stood slowly, reverently, and turned to address the council, her voice echoing with authority.
"The bond between Andrew and Jamie is blessed. Sacred. Chosen not by blood, nor law, but by spirit and destiny."
Murmurs spread among the elders, some nodding with acceptance, others still wearing doubt like armour.
"But remember this," she continued, eyes now burning into mine. "A bond can be blessed… and still be broken. The path they choose will determine its power."
Then she turned, and with a voice quieter—but sharper than steel—she added a final note only Andrew and I truly felt:
"And may the path they choose favour the land."
A message. A warning. A prophecy. I couldn't quite tell.
Alpha Jackson stepped forward then, his voice booming with pride.
"I see now," he declared. "Furstone has a pending Luna."
Cheers erupted around us—some genuine, some uncertain. All I could do was lean further into Andrew's chest, exhausted and quietly overwhelmed.
What none of them noticed was Oona's face.
Still. Pale. Her jaw clenched, her expression unreadable.
And Mealin—standing in the shadows—eyes like flint. Watching. Waiting. Brewing something far colder than silence.
They didn't cheer.
They didn't smile.
They didn't look relieved.
And in the lingering magic of the cave, with the blue flame flickering low behind us, I felt it again:
The trial was over. But the storm… was just beginning.
******
The First Crack
Oona's Chamber
The sound of crashing glass echoed like thunder behind closed walls.
Vials shattered. Shelves overturned. Candles extinguished by flailing winds conjured by Oona's rage.
"How could this be?!" she screamed, her voice feral. "He shouldn't have survived it. He shouldn't have!"
Her long nails dug into the edge of a mahogany desk as she trembled, pupils like slits, hair clinging to her face in sweat-soaked strands.
Behind her, Maelin stood calmly, arms behind his back, watching her fury with a glint of something… unreadable.
"I always knew there was a possibility," he said simply, his tone void of surprise.
Oona spun, eyes ice cold, laughter dry and brittle. "You look too calm for someone whose son's position as Alpha is now at risk."
Maelin tilted his head slightly, almost amused. "You see, Oona… You're not the only one who plays games."
Her rage paused—just slightly.
"I foresaw this. Knew there was a chance the trial wouldn't bend to our will. That the bond might withstand."
He stepped closer, voice dropping into something darker. "So I made plans. A backup no one in Furstone will see coming. A deviant one. But I'll need your mole."
Oona's lips curled slowly, regaining her composure, the gears in her mind spinning again.
"The one who watches Andrew and Jamie?" she asked, voice soft now. Serpentine.
He nodded once.
Oona smiled. "Then let the games begin."
And as the firelight flickered in the room, two shadows twisted together—no longer partners of strategy, but co-conspirators in vengeance.
*******
Jamie's POV
Andrew still carried me in his arms like a prince would carry his most sacred treasure.
I felt the cool night breeze kiss my skin as we stepped out of the sacred cave. It smelled like freedom—like life had cracked open a second chance just for me.
"You know I can walk fine, right?" I murmured with a smirk.
Andrew just snorted, refusing to look at me. Refusing to let go.
Then, just before we turned onto the path that led to the Alpha chambers, I saw her.
Grandma.
She stood just beyond the gathering, wrapped in her shawl, eyes shining with unshed tears. She hadn't been allowed inside the cave—not as an outsider to the trial—but I knew she'd been praying. Waiting.
For me.
Andrew gently placed me down.
I walked into her arms.
No words. Just scent. Just warmth. Just home.
She held me as if she'd never let go. And maybe for a moment, she wouldn't have.
"I'm here," I whispered into her neck.
"I know," she breathed. "The Goddess heard me."
Then I looked at Andrew. The longing in his eyes was soft but impossible to ignore. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.
I turned back to Grandma, a sheepish grin tugging at my lips.
"Do you think… I could stay with him tonight?"
Before I could finish, she waved her hand. "Go. I understand."
I kissed her cheek, told her how much I loved her, and let her go—just for tonight.
Andrew didn't even ask. He picked me up again, bridal style.
"You're not doing this all night, are you?" I laughed.
He shrugged. "No promises."
At the Alpha chamber's entrance, I hesitated. Just a breath. Just a beat.
Andrew looked down. "You okay?"
"Look at us," I said softly. "Being open. Not hiding anymore. It's… strange."
Then I smirked, leaned in, and whispered, "I can't wait to properly see how my Alpha mate's bedroom looks."
Andrew growled low in his throat, eyes darkening.
He climbed the stairs in twos, powerful and eager.
Andrew's Bedroom
It was exactly what I imagined.
Strong, structured. Wooden beams carved with ancient sigils. A fire burning low in a stone hearth. Earth-toned sheets, deep red and gold. The scent of pine and musk—his scent—wrapped around every inch of the room.
He set me down at the edge of the bed, and suddenly, the air between us changed.
This wasn't like before.
This wasn't rushed. This wasn't careful.
This was worship.
He touched me like I was made of starlight. Kissed me like the world ended tomorrow. Whispered my name like a prayer.
And when we finally fell into each other—bodies, breaths, hearts—it was more than sex. It was a vow. A soul recognising itself in another.
Every moan. Every sigh. Every touch said: You are mine. I am yours. We found our way back.
And yet…
Outside the chamber doors, beyond the laughter, the touches, the heartbeats...
Darkness whispered.
Eyes watched.
And somewhere in the distance, a flame flickered—
Not with warmth… but warning.
The bond was blessed.
But peace? Peace was not promised.