Andrew
We didn't stop running until we reached the edge of the southern woods, where the trees grew so thick even the moonlight struggled to break through. I knew this part of the forest well—silent, sacred. Untouched. The kind of place where the wind itself holds its breath.
Jamie stumbled to a halt behind me, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, hair wild from the chase. We were far from the chaos now. Far from Cassian's voice echoing through the stone halls. Far from the possibility of Jamie getting caught.
But not far enough for me to let this go.
He looked up at me with those wide, guilty eyes. "Do you think Ann will be okay?"
I took a breath, grounding myself before answering. "Ann? That girl has handled worse. She'll be fine. She knows how to slip away."
I stepped toward him slowly, every muscle still wired from the adrenaline of finding him there. Almost too late.
"But you," I said, voice low, "have some explaining to do."
Jamie winced. "I know."
He looked down at his hands, then back at me with something close to shame. "I'm sorry I didn't show up at the treehouse. I wanted to. I meant to. I swear, Andy. I was going to explain everything…"
My heart twitched at the sound of that name on his lips. Only two people ever called me that.
He took a step closer, his voice steady despite the weight I could feel pressing down on him. "Ann came by. She saw the chest my grandma gave me- It belonged to my late parents. There was a story she told me… something about my bloodline. About who I really am.
My chest tightened. "I know," I said softly. "I heard you. That day. By the door."
His eyes shot to mine. "You... what?"
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," I said. "But once I heard the word Lunaris, I stayed. I needed to know. But I also knew you weren't ready. So I didn't bring it up. I figured when you were ready... you'd tell me."
He stared at me, speechless. Then continued
"We were just trying to find more clues, more proof—anything to help me survive the Trial. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure I've done everything I can. I can't walk into that chamber blind. Not when… not when I finally have something to live for."
That last line. It broke something in me.
Before he could spiral further, I pulled him into my arms.
His body sagged against mine like he'd been holding himself up for too long. I rested my chin on the top of his head, breathing him in. Wolfsbane, paper, and something soft I couldn't name.
"You'll be fine," I whispered against his hair. "You hear me, Jamie? You will survive this."
He didn't speak for a long time. Just held on tighter.
When he'd calmed, when his pulse was no longer a storm, I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.
"But next time, don't take risks like that without telling me. Promise me, Jamie. No more disappearing acts."
He bit his lip and nodded, a little too cute for his own good. "I promise."
I couldn't help it. I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
Then he asked, "How did you even know where I was?"
I gave a little shrug. "I let my wolf take over. And amid everything… a wolf will always find his mate."
Jamie blinked. "You traced my scent?"
"And thank the Moon I did," I said. "We got there just in time."
His expression softened, and then, slowly, like gravity was pulling him, he leaned into me again. Pressed his forehead to mine. His breath mingled with mine, warm and unguarded.
Then came the words.
The ones I wasn't expecting.
"I love you, Andy."
It was a whisper. A prayer. A vow.
And it gutted me.
Because fuck—I wanted to say it back. It was on the tip of my tongue. It had been for weeks.
But I was still an Alpha. A son of legacy. A leader bound to a pack that believed in destiny and bloodlines, and sacred unions. I was being groomed to marry a perfect Luna, to uphold centuries of tradition. My mark—my bond—was supposed to serve them.
Not me.
But Jamie...
Gods, Jamie was everything I never knew I needed. Every moment I held back felt like betrayal to the boy who'd just told me he loved me. Who stood in front of me now, soft, vulnerable, radiant in moonlight, and said the name no one had dared to use since I lost my mother.
I stared into his eyes and saw no hesitation. Just the truth.
And I knew right then—I would burn this whole damn legacy to the ground if it meant keeping him.
No one had called me that in years. Not since my mother died. Not with that kind of tenderness. That kind of truth.
And maybe that's what undid me.
Because I knew. In that moment, beneath the swaying canopy of trees that had no doubt grown used to sheltering two foolish boys who kept trying to hide their love from the world, I would move mountains for him. Kill for him. Die for him.
The forest might've rolled its metaphorical eyes at us by now. We kept using it like a getaway car in a teenage romance film. But damn it, the trees would forgive us. They always did.
I tilted his chin up gently. "Say it again," I murmured.
Jamie blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I love you."
That was all I needed.
I kissed him—deep, slow, starved like I'd been holding it in for days. Because I had.
He gasped into my mouth, fingers tangling in my shirt like he needed something to hold on to. I pressed him against the mossy trunk of a tree, our bodies aligned like they were carved from the same piece of moonstone.
The kiss turned molten. Tongues, teeth. Soft moans were swallowed in the cradle of twilight.
No hesitation. No holding back.
It was hot, open-mouthed, desperate.
His fingers dove under my shirt, grazing my skin, and I swore under my breath. "Jamie…"
He answered me with a moan, pushing against me until my back hit the bark of a thick tree. My hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring, memorising. His chest, his ribs, the way he gasped when my thumb brushed the soft line beneath his navel.
Clothes vanished in a blur of limbs and heat.
His skin burned beneath mine, his body arching to meet every grind, every press. He wasn't just kissing me—he was claiming me with every breath, every bite along my jaw.
I flipped us, pinning him against the trunk. "You're mine," I growled, voice feral.
"Yes," he gasped, clawing at my shoulders. "Yes, Andy—please."
I licked a stripe up his neck, and my canines ached to mark him. My wolf screamed for it. But I couldn't—not yet. I needed it to mean something more than lust and adrenaline. I needed him to choose it.
Still, I couldn't stop.
I took him there beneath the trees. Deep, slow, intense. Every thrust is a promise. Every kiss is a prayer. He clung to me like I was the only thing keeping him from breaking.
And maybe I was.
His name spilt from my lips like a chant. And when he came undone, crying out into my mouth, I followed—biting into his shoulder just enough to draw a moan, not enough to claim him.
Not yet.
But gods, I wanted to.
We collapsed together, tangled in sweat and breath and heartbeat.
I kissed his hair. "Jamie…"
He looked up at me with stars in his eyes. "I meant it, you know."
"I know," I whispered.
And one day soon, I'd say it back.
When I was ready to let the world burn for it.
*****
JAMIE'S POV
The moon had barely shifted from its peak when I found myself sprawled on the grass, tangled in limbs and heat, my head resting on Andrew's bare chest. His skin was slick with sweat, rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek. I could still feel him inside—or maybe just the echo of him—the way we moved, the way he held me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The world had narrowed to breath and heartbeat and soft exhale.
I didn't want to leave that space.
But then, something tugged at me.
The book.
My eyes flicked toward the base of the tree, where we'd stashed the Book of Nivorien before... everything. A strange chill passed over me, like a breeze only I could feel, and I jolted upright, breath catching in my throat.
Andrew stirred beside me, his lashes fluttering as he blinked awake. "Jamie?" he rasped, voice husky with sleep. "What's wrong?"
"I... I need to check something." My voice felt distant to my ears, like I wasn't quite present yet. I stood, skin flushed and sore in all the right places, and walked the few steps toward the tree. My hands brushed over the moss and leaves until they found the edge of the leather-bound cover, weathered and humming with a power I couldn't name.
Andrew was sitting up now, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Is that the book?"
I nodded. "The Book of Nivorien."
A beat passed.
"Well," he said, reaching for his pants and slipping them on with a small grunt, "no better time than after amazing sex to dive into ancient horror stories."
I chuckled weakly, the sound not quite reaching my chest. We sat shoulder to shoulder, the moonlight spilling over the pages as I opened the book carefully, like it might bite.
The first few pages were faded, water-stained, and written in a script that swirled like smoke. Most of the illustrations were terrifying—wolves with glowing eyes, circles of fire and blood, bodies half-shifted and caught between. Some pages crackled at the edges, brittle with age. Others seemed newer—almost like they'd been rewritten again and again, as though someone had tried to suppress them but failed.
We turned one page at a time, the silence stretching. And then we saw it.
The Trial of Becoming.
I read the title aloud, and the air shifted.
Andrew leaned in. "That's it?"
The passage was long, chaotic in script, as though whoever wrote it had been rushing—or terrified.
"'Only those of divine blood or chosen fate may survive,'" I read. "'The trial consumes what is weak. It scorches what is unworthy. Only in the breaking shall the truth of the wolf be revealed."
My hands trembled slightly.
There were drawings too—horrific, visceral. Wolves caught mid-shift, writhing in rings of ice and fire. Clawed hands reaching for the sky. A spiral of symbols that looked oddly like the mark burned into the council stones I'd seen once in the Hall of Memory.
Andrew's voice was hoarse beside me. "This... this isn't training, Jamie. This is a purge."
"'And should the bonded fall,'" I continued, barely able to read through my suddenly dry throat, "'so too shall the bond.'"
We both froze.
Andrew stared at the page. "Wait... if you die—"
"Then so might you."
"No," he growled, grabbing the edge of the book like he might rip it apart. "No fucking way."
And then, like punctuation, thunder rumbled low in the distance. The wind moved through the trees. We stared at the page again.
A final line written in thick, red ink:
"Let the moon bear witness to what must be lost before the world is saved."
I looked up at Andrew. He looked at me.
And together, we said it:
"Oh shit."