"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
The confidence in her voice steadies me more than any reassurance could. She's not hoping. She's deciding. Claiming this outcome like it's already done.
Exactly what I need to hear.
We sit in the destroyed cabin as dawn approaches. What connects us pulses with anticipation, building stronger with each passing minute. Outside, I hear movement—my brothers preparing the stone circle, Calder checking the ceremonial items, the women ensuring the compound is secure.
Finally, the first hints of light touch the horizon.
"It's time," I say.
We stand together. I take her hand, lacing our fingers. The mate bond flares in response, eager and ready.
We walk out of the cabin and through the compound. The forest path to the stone circle is familiar now, worn by generations of Hayes clan ceremonies. Morning mist clings to the ground, making everything feel dreamlike. Unreal.
But this is real.
The stone circle appears through the trees, ancient stones standing sentinel in the clearing. Torches burn at each cardinal point despite the approaching dawn. Calder stands in the center, ceremonial knife gleaming in his hands. My brothers form a circle around the perimeter—Eli, Beau, Sawyer, all of them in human form, all of them ready to witness this.
The women stand with them. Cilla catches Maren's eye and nods once, welcoming her officially into the clan.
Calder's gaze meets mine as we enter the circle. "The ley lines are at peak convergence. This is the moment."
I look at Maren. She looks back at me, chin lifted, ready.
"Last chance to change your mind," I say quietly.
"Not a chance." Her fingers tighten around mine. "Let's do this."
We step into the center of the stone circle. The ley lines pulse beneath my feet, power thrumming through the earth. The ceremonial knife catches torchlight, ancient and sharp and waiting.
Calder raises his hands. The air itself seems to hold its breath.
My fingers tighten around Maren's.
The ceremony begins.
CHAPTER 9
MAREN
The stone circle hums beneath my bare feet.
Dawn light filters through the trees, turning the ancient stones silver-grey. Torches burn at each cardinal point, flames guttering in the morning breeze. Calder stands before us, the ceremonial knife gleaming in his hands, and I'm acutely aware of every person watching. Jonah's brothers form the outer circle—Eli, Beau, Sawyer, all in human form. The women stand with them. Cilla catches my eye and nods once, and something in my chest loosens slightly.
Welcome to the clan.
Jonah's fingers tighten around mine. He's solid now, fully here, and the faint shimmer that marked his connection to the shadow realm has faded. The battle yesterday anchored him, forced him to choose. He chose this. Chose me. Chose to stay.
"Last chance to change your mind," he'd said moments ago.
"Not a chance." My voice hadn't wavered. "Let's do this."
Now we stand in the center, and the ley lines pulse beneath us. Power thrums through the earth, ancient and wild, waiting. The ceremonial knife catches torchlight, and Calder raises his hands.
The air itself seems to hold its breath.
