The music from the courtyard drifted up like smoke—laughter, clinking glasses, and the joyous howls of wolves who believed the worst was behind them. On the balcony, the night had turned to ice.
I stared at the photograph trembling between Ryan's fingers. The infant's face was unmistakably mine: the same curve of cheek, the same stubborn set of the mouth even in sleep. The handwriting on the back blurred as my eyes filled.
"No." The word left my throat raw. "This is a trick. Scarlett's last lie."
Ryan's voice was gentle, but it cracked like thin ice. "Scarlett kept this locked behind three blood wards. She wasn't trying to protect it; she was hiding it. The DNA report is signed by the Royal Archive itself. Your sequence matches the Silver Eclipse line, Aria. Perfect match. There's no forgery good enough to fool that seal."
I shook my head hard enough to send my hair whipping across my face. "I was rogue. I was nothing. I scrubbed toilets in New York to feed my son. I begged for scraps. Royals don't do that, Ryan."
Damon stepped closer, voice low. "They do when their blood is bound the day they're born."
My gaze snapped to him.
"The seal," Damon said. "Every direct heir of the Silver Eclipse is bound at birth so the Usurper's hunters can't scent them. It suppresses the Lycan essence until the twenty-fifth moon after their first shift. You turned twenty-five last winter, Luna. That's why you suddenly tore through silver chains like paper. That's why Scarlett's best enforcers couldn't lay a hand on you. Your blood was waking up."
Ryan reached for me, cupping my cold cheek with a hand that still shook from the revelation. "You were never weak, Aria. You were sleeping. And now the entire continent is about to feel the earthquake when you open your eyes."
Below us, a child laughed. Fireworks bloomed gold and crimson over the treeline. The pack was drunk on victory and wine and the illusion of safety.
Damon's next words killed every spark of celebration still flickering in my chest.
"The Usurper King has spies in every council, every pack, every human city. The moment he learns the lost princess breathes, he will send the Royal Guard. Not rogues. Not mercenaries. The Guard. They will burn Crimson Hollow to bedrock and salt the earth so nothing ever grows here again. We are six hundred against sixty thousand. We cannot win that war."
Ryan's arms dropped to his sides. He turned to the balustrade, knuckles white on the stone as he looked down at his people—his family—dancing beneath paper lanterns.
I saw the exact second the Alpha in him broke.
"I swore I would never run again," he whispered. "I swore I would die before I let anyone take you from me." His laugh was bitter, soaked in helpless rage. "But I can't ask them to die for a crown most of them have never even heard of."
Silence stretched, thin and sharp as garrote wire.
Then I drew a slow breath that tasted of gunpowder and moonflowers.
"We leave tonight," I said.
Both men turned to me.
I was already moving, stepping past them into the shadowed corridor. My voice did not waver. "We take Leo and we disappear before dawn. The pack wakes up to an empty Alpha suite and a letter saying we needed time alone after everything. They'll be confused. They'll be angry. But they will live."
Ryan caught my wrist. "Aria—"
"There is no choice, Ryan." I met his eyes, fierce and ancient and suddenly, terrifyingly regal. "I will not trade six hundred innocent lives for my birthright. Not tonight."
Damon exhaled, a sound of reluctant pride. "Where do we go?"
"North," Ryan answered before I could. His voice had steadied; the Alpha was back, making the hard decision because his Luna had already made the harder one. "The Oracle of the Frostfang Ranges. If anyone knows where the true Lycan King was exiled, it's her. She owes me a blood debt from the war."
I nodded once. "Then we have six hours until the moon sets. Pack light. Only what we can carry on foot until we reach the safe house in Ironridge."
We moved like ghosts through the sleeping Pack House. Servants had been given the night off; the corridors were dark and echoing. In our private suite, Leo lay curled on his small bed, one arm flung over the stuffed wolf Ryan had won for him at the midsummer fair. Moonlight painted silver across his eyelashes.
I knelt, brushing his curls back. He stirred, mumbling in his sleep, and burrowed closer to my hand.
My heart cracked clean in two.
"I ran once to save my son," I whispered against his forehead, pressing the softest kiss there. "I will run again to save my people."
Ryan watched from the doorway, a duffel bag already slung over his shoulder. His eyes were red but dry now, tears burned away by resolve.
Damon appeared with two more packs and a set of keys. "Truck's fueled. We'll abandon it at the old mill and go on foot from there. Scent trails die in the river."
I lifted Leo into my arms. He weighed nothing and everything. The child sighed, tucked his face into my neck, and slept on, trusting me the way only children can.
I met Ryan's gaze over our son's curls.
"Lead the way, Alpha," I said quietly.
Ryan reached for my free hand, threading our fingers tight.
"Always, my Luna."
Together, the four of us slipped out a side entrance where the shadows were deepest. Behind us, the Pack House glowed with light and music, oblivious. Ahead, the forest waited—black, endless, and ancient.
As we crossed the tree line, the celebration fireworks reached their grand finale. Gold and crimson and violet flowers exploded across the sky, illuminating for one heartbreaking instant the three of us vanishing into darkness.
The last light died.
The forest swallowed us whole.
And under the indifferent moon, I began the long journey home to a kingdom that had spent twenty-five years trying to kill me.