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SONYA

T he sunlight filtered through the high windows of the infirmary, soft and golden, casting gentle lines across the white linen sheets wrapped around Sonya’s middle.

She’d forgotten what peace felt like.

Real peace—not just the calm before a fight, but the kind that settled in your chest like a warm drink on a cold night.

The pain was fading.

Her wolf had kicked in a few days ago once the infection had been forced from her blood, and now her body was knitting itself back together at a pace that surprised even the healers.

The worst of it—the puncture wound Roman had left—was nothing but an angry scar now.

Ugly, sure. But a reminder too.

That she survived. That she chose right.

She ran her hand across her stomach absentmindedly, tracing the ridge under the bandages, when she caught the soft knock at the edge of the open door.

Landon.

He stood in the doorway looking almost out of place—clean jeans, a simple black shirt stretched across his chest, hair wind-tossed and damp at the ends like he’d just rinsed the battle off of him.

But his eyes—those warm forest green eyes—held something deeper now.

Something sharper. He wasn’t the same man who’d stepped into this fight weeks ago.

This was a king now.

And he carried it well.

“Told you I’d survive,” she said, smirking as she pushed herself up with a wince.

“And I told you not to throw yourself into the path of a madman’s blade,” Landon replied, voice low but laced with that soft reverence he always gave her—like she was a storm he’d gladly walk into again and again.

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across her frame, lingering at her side where the wound used to be.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like I got impaled,” she deadpanned.

“But better.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.

“The healers said you’re ready to walk.”

“More than ready.” She swung her legs over the edge and let out a long breath.

“I’ve been cooped up in here for too long. The pack’s out there. I can feel the buzz. Something’s shifting.”

Landon didn’t speak at first. He just moved closer, close enough that his hand brushed hers on the mattress.

He didn’t take it, not yet.

His eyes searched hers with something unreadable—hope, maybe, mixed with a little fear.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Things are shifting. We’ve started to rebuild. Pack lines are being redrawn, alliances forged. The rogues are staying… most of them. They chose this life. Chose us. ”

Sonya nodded slowly.

“They needed something to believe in.”

“They still do,” he said.

“Which is why I came.”

She tilted her head, frowning.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t just a social visit?”

He took a deep breath, then dropped to one knee.

Her breath breath caught in her throat as her heart thundered in her ears.

“Landon—”

“I’m not asking for a crown,” he said quickly, voice steady but full of emotion.

“And I’m not asking you to forget everything you’ve been through. You’ve fought harder than anyone here, Sonya. You chose me when it could’ve killed you. You fought for a future most people couldn’t even imagine. So I’m not asking you to be anything for me.”

His hand slipped into hers, warm and calloused.

“I’m asking if you’ll stand beside me. As Luna Queen. Not because the prophecy demands it, not because the pack expects it. But because we built this. Together.”

Sonya’s lips parted, her heart thudding louder and wilder in her chest.

She saw it all then—their future.

Not just the titles, not just the power.

But the way he felt like home.

The way his hand anchored her, gentle and strong.

The way the entire world had shifted because they dared to believe in each other.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled through them.

“Of course I will,” she whispered.

“Landon Graves, you ridiculous, beautiful man… there’s no one else I’d follow into the fire.”

He rose, laughing breathlessly, and wrapped his arms around her like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to.

When they pulled apart, fingers still twined, she stood on shaking legs—shaky not from pain, but from the moment.

“Ready to do this?” she asked.

“Only with you,” he said.

They walked out of the infirmary together, side by side, into the sunlight.

And the cheers started before they even reached the center of the courtyard.

Hundreds stood waiting.

Some in their old pack insignias, others with no markings at all.

Elders. Rogues. Young shifters.

Fighters from every bloodline.

All of them clapped, shouted, howled in triumph.

Landon raised their joined hands high, his fingers locking around hers like armor.

Sonya smiled, eyes scanning the crowd.

Her gaze caught familiar faces—some that had doubted her, others that had stood beside her from the start.

And still, they all knelt.

Not for a king.

Not for a queen.

But for a future they chose.

For a future they bled for.

And finally, for peace.