The cabin felt too small, too warm, too alive around her.
Aria's wrist still rested in Ronan's hand, his touch cooling the burn beneath her skin like he carried winter in his palms.
Or maybe she was the one burning.
Her breath trembled.
"Older than yours?" she whispered. "How is that even possible? I'm just—"
"Human?"
Ronan's voice was quiet, but the word landed like a stone between them.
He held her wrist more firmly, though his touch stayed gentle.
"No," he said. "You're not."
The fire snapped loudly, making Aria flinch. Ronan's grip tightened instinctively, his body shifting closer as if shielding her from even the cabin walls.
She swallowed. "My whole life… I've never been anything special."
Ronan's eyes softened—barely, but enough to steal her breath.
"You survived a storm that kills wolves," he said. "You walked into our territory without triggering our defenses. And the bond responded to you instantly. That alone should have killed you."
Her stomach twisted. "Killed me?"
He inhaled sharply—frustrated, pained, afraid.
"The mate bond is violent. Overwhelming. Humans usually can't handle even a fraction of it."
His voice dropped, roughened.
"But you… your body awakened instead of breaking."
Awakened.
The word settled in her chest like a rising echo she didn't yet understand.
Aria pulled her wrist back slightly. Ronan let go—but reluctantly—his fingers trailing for half a second too long.
As soon as he released her, the burn roared back to life.
Aria gasped, clutching her arm. "It's—Ronan, it's worse—"
He grabbed her wrist again immediately.
The pain vanished.
Every man in the room watched them with wide eyes, but none dared speak.
Ronan stared at their joined hands, jaw tightening.
"The bond is anchoring to you," he murmured. "Trying to claim you fully."
"Claim me?" Her voice shook. "What does that mean?"
He lifted his gaze, and she swore the air thickened between them.
"It means…"
He swallowed.
"It means you're becoming mine."
Aria's heart slammed against her ribs.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "This can't be happening. This—this night was already ruined, then I nearly died, and now—"
Ronan's voice cut gently through her panic.
"Look at me."
She did.
His eyes were colder than the snowstorm outside—but inside that cold lived a terrifying warmth meant only for her.
"You're not in danger because of me," he said. "You're in danger because of what you are."
Aria opened her mouth—then froze.
A pulse.
Not from her heart.
Not from Ronan's touch.
From her skin.
Her wrist glowed.
Softly at first, then brighter, like moonlight bleeding through her veins.
She stumbled back, eyes wide.
"Ronan—!"
He caught her before she could fall, arms steady around her. His grip was strong but careful, anchoring her to him as the glow intensified.
The room gasped.
One man whispered, "Moonblood…"
Another crossed himself in fear.
Aria's pulse roared in her ears.
"What's happening? Ronan, what's happening to me?!"
He held her firmly, voice shaking for the first time since she met him.
"Your mark," he said. "It's appearing."
The light twisted into a shape—circular, ancient, formed of thin branching lines like frost spreading across glass. It hovered just beneath her skin, moving with her pulse.
Aria stared, trembling.
"I—I don't understand."
Ronan cupped her wrist with both hands, lowering his forehead to hers before he could stop himself. His breath trembled against her skin.
"You're Moonborn," he whispered.
"Descended from the First Luna. The only bloodline older than the Alphas."
Aria's world tilted again.
"No," she whispered. "My family—my parents—they're normal. Completely normal."
Ronan shook his head slightly.
"They hid you. They must have. Moonborn are hunted. Even by wolves."
Aria's throat closed.
Hunted.
Just like tonight.
Ronan pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his voice quieter, harsher, desperate:
"Aria… this is why the bond didn't kill you."
He touched her glowing wrist gently.
"This is why you survived."
The light flared brighter.
Ronan inhaled sharply.
"No," he muttered. "Not yet—not here."
"What?" she asked, terrified.
"The bond is trying to complete itself." He stepped closer, holding her steady. "It's too early. You're not ready."
Her pulse raced. "Ready for what?"
He swallowed.
"The Marking."
Aria's breath vanished.
"The what?"
The glow intensified, spiraling up her arm. Every wolf in the room bowed their head instinctively—even those who didn't understand why.
Ronan tightened his hold on her, his voice a whisper of command and confession.
"Aria Hale…"
His thumb brushed her wrist, and the light pulsed in answer.
"If this completes tonight… you become mine forever."
Her heart thrummed painfully.
"Forever?" she breathed.
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't choose this. Neither did you. But destiny doesn't ask permission."
A tremor ran through her arm. She gasped, leaning into him without meaning to. He caught her, one hand sliding to her lower back to keep her from collapsing.
Her skin shimmered.
The mark brightened.
And then—
A sharp knock—no, a slam—shook the cabin door.
Ronan's head snapped up, his eyes glowing pure blue.
"Not now," he growled.
The knock came again, harder. Snow fell from the roof.
A voice snarled through the wood:
"Give us the girl."
Aria froze.
Ronan stepped in front of her instantly, blocking her from sight, his growl vibrating the floorboards.
His wolf was very close now—she felt it.
"Over my dead body," Ronan snarled.
The mark on Aria's wrist blazed white.
And the world outside the cabin
went silent.
As if even the storm was afraid.