Aiden stiffened.
Not all at once—just a subtle hitch in his breathing, his wolf suddenly alert in a way that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with realization.
"…Wait."
Theron's arm was still around him. Ronan was still leaning against the doorway, far too pleased with himself.
Aiden slowly lifted his head.
"How do you know," Aiden asked carefully, eyes never leaving Ronan, "that Theron is the Moon God?"
The den went very quiet.
Ronan's grin faltered.
Theron froze.
Aiden felt it immediately—the shift in the air. Old. Heavy. Not hostile, but sealed. Like a truth that had been sitting behind a locked door for centuries.
Ronan exhaled and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Ah."
Theron closed his eyes. "Ronan—"
"It's fine," Ronan interrupted gently. "He was going to figure it out anyway."
Aiden's pulse picked up. "Figure what out."
Ronan straightened, posture changing—not alpha, not beta, but something steadier. Older.
"I wasn't just your beta," Ronan said quietly, looking at Theron. "I was assigned to him."
Aiden blinked. "Assigned."
Theron opened his eyes. Gold flared faintly—not power, not threat. Just truth.
"When I stepped away from the sky," Theron said softly, "someone had to remain grounded. Someone who could watch. Anchor. Protect."
Aiden looked back to Ronan, disbelief creeping in. "You're… what. His bodyguard?"
Ronan snorted. "Please. I'd be dead."
Then his voice softened. "I'm his guardian."
Aiden's chest tightened.
"How long," Aiden whispered.
Ronan met his gaze without flinching. "Since his first fall."
Aiden swallowed hard. "You watched him die."
"Yes."
"And come back."
"Yes."
Aiden's hands curled into the furs. "…You knew about me."
Ronan didn't answer immediately.
Theron did. "He knew of you. Not who you were. Not until now."
Ronan nodded. "I felt it when you were claimed. Same resonance. Same pull. Same impossible stubbornness."
Aiden huffed weakly. "Wow. Even my reincarnations are annoying."
Ronan smiled sadly. "Consistently."
Silence stretched again—but this one wasn't sharp. It was heavy with history.
"So," Aiden said finally, voice rough, "you've been babysitting a god for centuries."
Ronan rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."
Theron glanced at him. "You didn't have to tell him."
Ronan shook his head. "He's your mate. Your anchor. Your future." He looked back at Aiden. "And you deserve to know who stands beside you."
Aiden leaned back against Theron, letting that sink in.
"…Okay," he said quietly.
Theron looked down at him. "Okay?"
Aiden nodded. "Okay."
Then, after a beat, "But if you ever keep secrets like that again, I will bite both of you."
Ronan laughed. Theron smiled.
And for the first time since the bond snapped into place, Aiden felt it fully—not just the power, not just the danger.
The den was quiet.
Too quiet.
Aiden woke not to sound—but to movement. The shift of weight. The pull in the bond tightening like a held breath.
Theron stood near the entrance, cloak discarded, moonlight catching in his hair.
Ronan was already outside.
No words were exchanged.
Aiden followed, bare feet silent against the earth.
The clearing was pale with moonlight, silver-drenched and still. Ronan rolled his shoulders once, then looked at Theron—not as beta.
As guardian.
"Don't hold back," Ronan said.
Theron's eyes burned gold.
The first impact cracked the ground.
They moved fast—too fast for normal wolves. Ronan struck like someone who knew every weakness. Theron answered with force that shouldn't exist in a mortal body.
Aiden's breath caught.
This wasn't sparring.
This was testing the edge of the world.
Theron didn't use light.Didn't use divinity.
Just fists. Teeth. Bone.
And still—he nearly tore the night apart.
When Ronan finally hit the ground, chest heaving, Theron stood over him shaking—not from exhaustion, but restraint.
Ronan laughed, breathless. "Still you."
Theron exhaled slowly, power receding. "Still watching."
Ronan's gaze flicked to Aiden.
Aiden hadn't moved.
Hadn't flinched.
His wolf stood tall inside him—tail high, ears forward.
"Good," Ronan said quietly. "Then we're still balanced."
Theron turned to Aiden then—concern flashing across his face.
Aiden just said, softly:
"…You were holding back."
Theron didn't deny it.
And Aiden realized something terrifying and beautiful:
He wasn't protected because he was fragile.
He was protected because he mattered.
Theron didn't collapse.
That was the first thing Aiden noticed.
Ronan had already pushed himself up and disappeared into the trees, giving them space the way guardians always did—close enough to watch, far enough not to intrude.
Theron remained standing in the clearing, moonlight washing over him.
Too still.
Aiden's wolf stirred uneasily.
"Theron?" Aiden said, stepping closer.
No answer.
Only then did Aiden see it—not blood, not wounds—but the strain. Theron's shoulders were rigid, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His breathing was slow, controlled, but wrong—each inhale dragged too deep, like his body didn't remember how to be mortal anymore.
"You're hurt," Aiden said, more statement than question.
Theron finally looked at him.
Golden eyes flickered—just for a second—silver bleeding through.
"No," Theron said quietly. "I'm… coming back down."
Aiden frowned. "From what."
Theron swallowed. His voice dropped. "From being too much."
Aiden's chest tightened.
He stepped closer again—and that was when it happened.
Without warning, Aiden's wolf surged forward.
Not in panic.
Not in fear.
In claim.
Aiden gasped as his body reacted on instinct alone—his scent flaring warm and sharp, cutting through the clearing like a command. His ears flicked forward, tail lifting as his wolf pressed against the bond, pulling.
Theron staggered.
Actually staggered.
He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes snapping wide as the divine pressure bled out of him like smoke stripped by wind.
"Aiden—" Theron rasped.
Aiden froze, startled. "I—I didn't—"
But his wolf didn't retreat.
It anchored.
Aiden felt it then—felt himself become the weight holding Theron to the earth. Not dominance. Not submission.
Balance.
Theron dropped to one knee, one hand braced against the ground, breath finally breaking free of his chest in a shaky exhale.
"…Stars," Theron whispered. "You pulled me back."
Aiden stared at his own hands like they didn't belong to him. "I didn't know I could do that."
Theron looked up at him—really looked.
Not as a god.Not as a king.
As a mate who had just been saved.
"You didn't command me," Theron said softly. "You grounded me."
Aiden's wolf finally settled, tail lowering, ears easing back. The clearing felt… normal again. Night. Crickets. Wind through leaves.
Aiden crouched in front of Theron without thinking, hands hovering uncertainly before resting on Theron's shoulders.
"You scared me," Aiden muttered.
Theron huffed weakly. "I was fighting a guardian who has killed gods."
"That's not what scared me."
Theron stilled.
Aiden swallowed. "You looked like you were slipping away. Like you'd forget how to be here. With me."
Theron leaned forward, resting his forehead against Aiden's chest. The contact was gentle, reverent.
"I won't," he said. "Not while you exist."
Aiden exhaled, fingers threading into Theron's hair. His wolf curled around the bond, satisfied but alert—as if it had just learned something new about itself.
"…Guess my wolf isn't just angry," Aiden murmured.
Theron smiled faintly. "No."
"It's terrifying."
Theron laughed quietly, breath warm against Aiden's skin. "Good."
He shifted carefully, letting Aiden help him up this time—accepting the support instead of resisting it.
And as they walked back toward the den together, Aiden realized something that would take him days to fully understand:
The Moon God didn't descend to save the world anymore.