Willow hesitated, staring at her.“You’re holding something back.Those women—I know what I saw.”
Ursula’s mouth pressed into a thin line.“Maybe you did.Maybe they’ll matter later.For now, your focus must be on the curse, not ghosts of the past.Trust me when I say their time will come.”
The words only half-settled Willow.She lay back after Ursula left, the taste of ash and copper still thick on her tongue.Images flooded her—Matthew’s sneer, the council’s silent ranks, Libby’s voice begging the Goddess, Liam and Jacob falling.Her tattoo hummed faintly against her skin, as though her mates pressed close, waiting.She thought of Libby’s vow, of her own scream blending with her past self and shivered.The fear of loss was crushing, but beneath it something else stirred—a fierce determination.
She wiped her tears and whispered into the silence, “Tonight, when you come back, we talk.No more running.No more fear.If the Fates chose us, then maybe it’s time I start choosing too.”
The hours crawled by her nerves on a knife’s edge.At first, with Ursula’s help, she prepared the roof top for her discussion with Liam and Jacob that evening.Then, back downstairs, she tried pacing, reading, and then staring blankly at the wall as the city outside roared with its usual noise.Nothing quieted the storm in her chest.At last, she stretched out on the bed again, Hugo pressed against her hip and stared at the ceiling until the shadows began to lengthen.She felt it then—that subtle shift, like the air itself holding its breath.
Even as the world outside dipped toward dusk, the air in the room changed.A hum built low in her stomach, heat spreading outward until her skin tingled, as though invisible threads pulled tight.She pushed back the blankets and stood, her legs trembling but her chin held high.The tattoo on her abdomen flared hot, then cooled and shadows began to curl and shimmer in the air before her.Smoke coalesced, black as midnight, thickening and twisting until it took shape.
Liam and Jacob stood in the room, naked, powerful, utterly real.Willow’s breath caught, her mouth going dry at the sight of them—shoulders broad, bodies carved from strength and survival, eyes glowing faintly with recognition and hunger.They looked as though they had been waiting centuries just to stand before her again.
A wicked part of her wanted to just let them stay as they were, temptation incarnate.Every inch of her screamed to close the distance, to touch, to claim.But she forced herself to move, to find focus.Snatching up the two pairs of shorts Ursula had left folded on the chair, she crossed the room and pressed them into their hands.“Here.Put these on.We need to talk.”Her voice was steady, but her pulse thundered in her ears.
They accepted the shorts slowly, reluctantly, as if the thought of covering themselves was the true offense.Their eyes never left hers and what she saw there stole her breath.Hunger, yes, but something deeper, something urgent and unspoken.From the look in their eyes, Willow knew they had something they needed to say too.And for the first time since the nightmare, she was ready to listen.
****
Liam’s wolf surgedthe instant his feet touched solid ground.He could feel Jacob’s fury vibrating in the air beside him, their mate’s scent clinging like a lifeline, warm and real.After centuries of half-existence, after endless years of waiting, they were here—and the need to set things right nearly overwhelmed him.
“Enough,” Jacob snapped, his voice edged with steel as he paced a line across the room.“We wasted too much time in that void.We’re not letting her go through another moment of this curse without fighting back.We will end this.”
Liam nodded, his own chest heaving.“We will make it right.For us.For her.For the ones who will come after.This ends with us.”
He turned toward Willow, his voice firm, unyielding.“And you will not give yourself to Marcus.That is something we will never allow.Do you understand, love?That is not an option.Not in this life, not ever.”
Jacob growled in agreement, his hands clenched into fists.“We’ll fight him, burn the world down if we have to.But you will never belong to him.You are ours.Always.”
They expected her to argue.To shout back, to rage at the unfairness of it all, to throw her walls up as she had before.They braced for it, hearts pounding, wolves straining at the leash.
But she didn’t.
Silence stretched.They looked at each other, confusion flickering between them, then turned back to her.Willow hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken—until she did.
She stepped forward, slowly, purposefully and laid a hand on each of their chests, right over their hearts.The heat of her touch seared through him, branding him more deeply than any mark of fate ever could.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, but her voice was steady.“I’m sorry.I have been fighting this, fighting you, when the truth is...I can’t.Hell, I don’t even want to.I miss you even when you’re standing right here, especially knowing that it is temporary.If the Fates believe this is best, who am I to fight them?Who am I to fight you?”She gulped, her gaze lifting between them.“I choose you.Both of you.Always.”
For a heartbeat, Liam couldn’t breathe.The weight of centuries seemed to ease off his chest in one glorious rush.Jacob’s jaw tightened, his eyes shining with a raw emotion Liam had only seen a handful of times before.
They moved at once, but Willow lifted her hands, stopping them inches before she would have been enveloped in their arms.“Not yet,” she whispered, her lips trembling into a smile.“Come with me first.”
“Anywhere,” Jacob said hoarsely.
“Always,” Liam added, his throat tight.
She led them through Ursula’s home, up the narrow stairwell and out into the rooftop garden.Magic shimmered faintly around the edges of the space, cloaking it from sight, muffling sound.Candlelight flickered along the walls, casting warm glows over the riot of flowers and herbs.A low table was set with food and wine, music humming softly from unseen speakers and in the center lay a massive pallet bed draped with blankets and cushions, decadent and inviting.
Liam’s chest clenched.She had done this—for them.
“I wanted...”Willow faltered, then squared her shoulders.“I wanted our first night to be ours.Chosen.Not stolen.Not cursed.Just us.”
Jacob brushed her cheek reverently.“Sweet, you have no idea what this means.”
“Then show me,” she whispered, her gaze darting between them.“Show me what it means to be yours.”
The air thickened with desire, with the undeniable pull of bond and fate and love reborn.Liam claimed her first kiss, slow and reverent, tasting of wine and promise.Jacob followed, fierce and tender in turn, until Willow was gasping, her body pressed tight between them, the night air trembling with heat.
