When he finally pulls back, his smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Come on, Sweets." He takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. "Let's go plot the downfall of an empire."
We walk together.
Side by side.
Hand in hand.
The afternoon sun is warm on my face. The campus is busy with students heading to afternoon activities, and more than a few of them stare as we pass—at the pack Alpha holding hands with the crazy Omega, at the obvious intimacy between us, at the way we move in sync like we've been doing this for years instead of days.
Let them stare, whisper, and wonder how someone like me ended up with someone like him.
I don't care anymore.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don't care what anyone thinks. Don't care about the judgment, the speculation, the constant assessment of my worth by people who've never bothered to know me.
Because Sage knows me.
Reallyknows me.
He's read my letters. Seen my darkness. Witnessed my chaos and my counting and my madness.
And he's still here.
Still holding my hand.
Still looking at me like I hung the moon and he's just grateful to be standing in the light.
This is real.
This is happening.
This is actually my life now.
The realization settles into my chest like a warm ember.
Not burning—just glowing.
Steady.
Hopeful.
"Sage?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm excited."
He glances at me, eyebrow raised. "About the pack meeting?"
"About everything." I squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against mine. "About the audition. About the plan. About... about seeing what happens next."
His smile widens.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." A giggle escapes—not manic this time, just happy. "Is that weird? I'm never excited. I'm usually just... surviving. Enduring. Waiting for the next bad thing to happen."
