The night air was sharper than usual.
It cut through my hoodie and curled against my spine, but it wasn't the cold that made my hands shake.
It was her.
Again.
Dwyn stood at the ledge like she was born to hold the night together. Her braids shimmered under the stars, and the city behind her looked dim in comparison. She hadn't noticed me yet. Or maybe she had—she always seemed to feel me before I spoke.
Dal stilled.
He'd been clawing for hours. Days. Weeks.
But now, in her presence, he simply watched—silent, reverent. Like a starving thing finally seeing sunlight.
"Seriously?" she said without turning. "You too?"
I stepped forward. "Didn't know you'd be up here."
Lie.
She didn't call me out. Just gave a soft snort that wasn't quite a laugh. "We keep doing this, Jaerin. Circling each other like wolves too afraid to bite."
I swallowed hard. "Maybe I'm afraid I'll sink in too deep to claw back out."
She finally turned.
Silver eyes—moon-wrought and cutting.
"What's so terrifying about feeling something real?"
Everything.
But I didn't say that. Not yet. Not until I could breathe.
The silence stretched. My pulse was too loud.
"I felt it the first time I saw your video," I said. "Didn't want to. Told myself it was nothing. My wolf didn't listen."
She blinked slowly.
I stepped closer.
Close enough to see the flecks of night sky in her irises. Close enough that if I reached, I could touch her. Feel the hum of the bond singing under her skin.
But I didn't reach.
"I don't trust the Moon," I said finally, voice like splinters in my throat.
That made her blink. She tilted her head. "Why?"
I looked past her, toward the edge of the city. Toward memory.
"My mom..." I started. "She died when I was twelve. Rogue attack."
Dwyn stilled.
"She was everything to my father. Or so I thought. The kind of love that made other wolves jealous. Soul-deep. Bond-tethered. All of it." I laughed, but it was hollow. "She died protecting me. And less than a year later..."
I exhaled.
"He remarried. Moved on like the Moon had hit reset. Like that kind of love was disposable. Replaceable. And then my supposed mate rejected me, she didn't want to be with a beta, someone who's life is monitored, an Idol."
Her breath caught.
"And I realized then," I said, voice low, rough, "that fate didn't mean forever. That mates weren't sacred. That even the strongest bond can be rewritten with time and silence."
Dwyn said nothing.
She didn't need to.
I felt her watching every word fall from my mouth.
"So when I felt it with you," I admitted, "I didn't trust it. I didn't want it. Because if I give in—if I let myself fall into this—what happens when fate decides it's done with us?"
Stillness.
And then, quietly, "You think I'd let go that easily?"
I looked at her then. Really looked.
Dwyn Duskthorn.
Seemingly untouched by fear, even after rejection and leaving her pack.
She met my gaze without blinking. "I don't believe love should be a wound you wait to reopen. I don't care what the Moon says. I choose who I give myself to. And if that's you, Jaerin... I don't plan on walking away."
Dal whimpered inside me. Broke.
I reached out then. Just a little. Just enough to brush her fingers.
Sparks.
Not metaphorical.
Real.
The bond surged like lightning between us.
I whispered, "I want to choose you, Dwyn. But I'm scared that once I do... I won't survive losing you."
She leaned forward, just a breath away. "Then don't lose me."
And maybe it was foolish.
Maybe it was too soon.
Too raw.
But when I looked at her in that moment, I didn't see fate or danger or death.
I saw something I hadn't in a long, long time.
Hope.
I closed the space between us.
Not with a kiss.
Just with touch.
My forehead to hers. A promise made in silence.
No more running.
No more pretending.
Just this.
Her.
Us.
The Moon be damned.
Dwyn hadn't moved. Neither had I.
Our foreheads were still pressed together, breaths mingling in the hush. No cameras. No spotlights. Just skin and truth and two wolves whose lives had spun too far from center.
Eventually, she eased back. Just enough to look at me fully.
"I was born during a storm," she said. "My birth mom didn't survive the labor."
I straightened slowly, meeting her eyes again. The silver in them didn't shimmer this time—it burned, steady and soft.
"She was pack?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No. She was... something else. My dad knows, but no one would talk about it. Not even him. He loved her, I think. Fiercely. But when she died, he buried everything about her, like loving then losing her was too painful for him."
A long pause.
"Cecil raised me," she continued. "My stepmother. She never treated me like I didn't belong. Not once. And then she had the triplets—Viora, Liora, Fiora. Absolute chaos gremlins. But they're mine. All three."
The warmth in her voice made my chest ache.
"They call me their alpha sister," she said with a quiet smile. "Like they think I hang the stars every night."
"And your dad?" I asked.
She went still. "He treated me like I'm the center of his universe alongside the triplets. Which is why it hurt when the pack started treating me like I was a blemish. Like I didn't belong."
I felt something dark twist in my gut.
"They were afraid of what I was," she said simply. "Still are. Then came the rejection."
My body tensed without permission.
"His name was Kael," she said softly. "Beta's son. Everyone assumed I'd end up with him. The Moon did too, apparently. But he chose Mera. My best friend at the time. Chose her after I'd already felt the bond pull. After my wolf had already curled against his."
Dal snarled quietly in my chest. I didn't try to calm him.
"She wasn't a friend," Dwyn continued, eyes on the sky now. "She was just better at playing nice. Easier to accept. Easier to love."
I shook my head. "They didn't deserve you."
Her gaze dropped to mine, curious and cautious. "What about you?"
I exhaled. Sat down on the low ledge, legs stretched out, arms resting on my knees. "My parents were pack royalty. Not in title—but in expectation. My father's line traces back to the first warriors of Silverfang. My mother... she was fierce. But soft. She believed the bond was sacred. I used to watch the way she looked at my dad and think, 'That's what fate looks like.' "
Dwyn sat beside me, silent.
"She died protecting me when rogues broke through the border," I said flatly. "I was twelve. She threw herself into the fight without hesitation. Took a claw through the ribs meant for me."
Her breath caught. She didn't interrupt.
"And less than a year later," I said, voice thin, "my father remarried. The kind of quiet, pretty, submissive wolf the Elders approved of. Said it was time to 'move forward.' Said she would help both of us 'heal.' "
I looked down at my hands.
"I never forgave him. Not for moving on. But for letting me believe love could be that easy to rewrite."
Dwyn reached for my wrist. Not possessive. Just grounding. "Is that why you ran from this?"
I nodded once. "I didn't want to feel it with you. Because if I did—if I let myself believe you were mine—then I'd never survive losing you."
Her voice was quiet. "But what if you never lose me?"
I looked at her.
Really looked.
Dwyn wasn't fragile. She was forged. Tested. Still standing.
"I don't know how to be soft with this," I said honestly. "I don't know how to not be afraid."
She leaned her head against my shoulder. "Then don't be soft. Be real."
A silence fell. Not heavy.
Just full.
"I'm glad it's you," she whispered. "Even if it's complicated."
"Me too," I murmured. "Even if I'm still terrified."