"I'm the key to breaking your curse."
Min SUGA didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
The forest pulsed with silence. The kind that came before a storm or a scream. His eyes locked on hers, and something primal shifted behind them.
"Explain," he said.
Not demanded.
Not begged.
Just... a quiet command from someone used to carrying things alone.
"When I was born, the Silverhollow elders performed a soul rite. Said I had 'unusual blood.' I thought it was just politics—pack hierarchy bull. But then they started hiding things. Keeping me from rituals. Blocking my access to full shift cycles."
She swallowed.
"I thought I was broken. But it turns out… I'm not. I'm just different."
SUGA's voice dropped an octave.
"Different how?"
"My bloodline traces back to the Moon Priestesses."
"The extinct Moon Priestesses?" he cut in, brows raised.
"Yeah, well. Surprise."
He paced, silent for a beat. She let him. He was calculating now, piecing it together. The legend. The curse. The mate bond. Her.
"They say the Moon Priestess line was destroyed because it threatened the balance of Alpha power," she said. "Because they could rewrite bonds. Undo curses. Shift the rules of fate."
"And you're telling me," he said slowly, "that the Silverhollow Council has been keeping you under lock and key… because you're capable of doing what no wolf ever could?"
She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Because suddenly, the sky cracked.
A soundless shatter. Like the moon flinched.
Luna gasped, grabbing her chest. Her heartbeat was burning—no, branding—a heat that spread through her ribs like a flare.
SUGA reached her in seconds.
"What's happening—Luna—look at me."
His hands gripped her arms, grounding her, and that's when he saw it.
Her eyes—no longer silver.
Glowing white. Moonlight white.
"The bond," she gasped, "it's trying to complete—"
And then she collapsed into him.
Not unconscious.
Not broken.
Just… in between.
SUGA caught her with a strength that didn't come from muscles—but desperation. His hands trembled as he lowered her to the ground, eyes wide, breath ragged.
"Don't you dare die on me," he whispered. "Not you. Not now."
And then—like the damn universe was mocking him—his mark burned to life.
A crimson brand on his collarbone, shaped like a crescent moon caught in fire.
The Alpha Mark.
The final seal of the mate bond.
And the last lock on his curse.