Bastian tries to shift back to human form, probably hoping to use his hands to fight more effectively. But Sera doesn’t give him the chance. Her teeth find his scruff, and she shakes him like he weighs nothing.
Sera, wait,I warn, worried she’s lost herself to rage.
I know her well enough to know she’d never forgive herself for taking a life. That burden should fall to me.
I’m not going to kill him,she responds, surprisingly calm.But he needs to understand what he tried to take from us.
She releases Bastian and backs away, giving him room to retreat. Blood stains his fur from multiple wounds, none fatal, but all painful enough to make him reconsider his approach.
Bastian hesitates for a moment like he’s considering another attack. Then his survival instincts win over his pride, and he turns to flee.
Let him go,Oren orders through pack communication.We have bigger problems.
He’s right. The main Thornridge force is being pushed back by the combined defenders, but there are still pockets of fighting throughout the ceremony grounds. I scan the battlefield and count at least a dozen ongoing skirmishes.
Sera and I are moving to support the eastern flank,I report.
Within minutes, the last Thornridge operative falls or flees as allied forces secure the perimeter. Dorian coordinates cleanup operations while Oren checks for casualties. The defensive positions hold, and the ceremony site remains intact despite the attack.
Veva approaches with Emin beside her, both looking exhausted from the magical support they provided during the battle.
“How many suppressors?” I ask.
“Seven total,” Veva reports. “All destroyed or disabled. They won’t be using that technology against us again.”
“Can they rebuild?”
“Possibly, but it would take months. By then, the Llewelyn wolves will be fully adapted to their restored abilities.”
Sera stands and surveys the battlefield. Bodies of fallen Thornridge operatives lie scattered across the ground, but none of our defenders were killed. Injured, yes, but alive.
“We won,” she says, like she can’t quite believe it.
“You broke a three-hundred-year-old curse and defended your people against a coordinated attack,” I correct. “That’s more than winning. That’s changing history.”
The Llewelyn women start to gather as the shock wears off and understanding sets in. They’re free—not just from the curse, but from the limitations it placed on their wolves, their emotions, and their choices.
Caelan, Sera’s younger sister, pushes through the crowd and throws her arms around her. “Thank you,” she sobs. “Thank you for being brave enough to do what the rest of us couldn’t.”
“I had help,” Sera reminds her, glancing at me.
“You had a partner,” I correct.
The celebration that follows is unlike anything I’ve witnessed. Llewelyn women embrace each other with real warmth instead of formal restraint. They laugh without holding back, cry without shame, and express joy with an openness that would have been impossible before the curse broke.
Sera stands beside me as we watch her pack discover who they really are beneath three centuries of magical suppression. Her hand finds mine, and I feel her happiness through our bond like sunshine after a long winter.
“What happens now?” she asks.
“Now, we help your pack adjust to freedom while we figure out what our future looks like.”
“Our future as a mated pair, or our future as pack historians?”
“Both. Everything. All of it together.”
She leans against my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her. The battlefield still shows evidence of the conflict we just survived, but the celebrating crowd makes it clear that something more important happened here tonight.
“I can feel my wolf so clearly now,” she tells me. “Before, it was like she was behind a wall. I knew she was there, but I couldn’t quite reach her. Now she’s just…here. Part of me in a way she never was before. I couldn’t have fought back against the suppressor otherwise.”
