They didn't plan it.
There was no promise, no poetry, no illusion that this would save them.
Only the quiet certainty that if they let go now, there would be nothing left to hold onto later.
Rowan stayed.
Not as the Alpha's son. Not as her executioner.
Just Rowan.
He cleaned the blood from Elara's face with trembling hands. Every touch sent sparks through the bond—sharp, aching, unbearable.
"You shouldn't touch me," she whispered.
"I already did," he replied. "I crossed that line the moment I bit you."
The Moon was high when it happened.
They clung to each other like survivors of the same shipwreck, desperate and shaking. There was grief in every kiss, fear in every breath.
When Elara cried, Rowan held her tighter.
When Rowan broke, Elara whispered his name like a prayer.
After, they lay tangled together on the cold stone floor, silver light washing over their skin.
Elara noticed the blood first.
Silver.
Staining the sheets beneath her.
Rowan saw it too.
The Moon turned red.
Selune came at dawn.
She did not knock.
"The Moon accepts your union," the Oracle said calmly.
Rowan sat up, fury blazing. "You orchestrated this."
Selune tilted her head. "I allowed what was inevitable."
She faced Elara. "Do you want the truth, child?"
Elara nodded.
"The prophecy was never broken," Selune said. "It was misunderstood."
She raised a finger.
"One heart must shatter."
Another.
"One blade must fall."
A final finger.
"One grave must be shared."
Rowan stepped forward. "You're lying."
Selune smiled sadly. "The Moon never lies. It only omits."
She leaned close to Elara and whispered:
"You will love him enough to end him.
Or he will love you enough to become the monster."
When Selune left, the chamber felt colder.
Elara pressed a hand to her chest.
Something inside her was already breaking