ISLA'S POV
The pain finally stops around dawn.
I'm lying in the bed, completely soaked in sweat, my entire body trembling like I've been struck by lightning. My bones ache in a way that's almost worse than the awakening itself. Every muscle feels like it's been torn apart and reassembled in a slightly different configuration.
And through it all, Cassian hasn't left my side.
He's sitting in the chair beside my bed, and even though I can't see much through my exhaustion-blurred vision, I can feel him there. Watching. Waiting. Guarding.
Mira had been right. The awakening was violent. It was the worst pain I've ever experienced, and I've been beaten, rejected, and exiled. This was different. This was my body rebelling against itself, my wolf clawing its way out of a cage it never should have been trapped in.
And through it all, one thought has been burning in my mind, growing hotter and more insistent:
Cassian knew.
"You used me," I say, my voice hoarse.
He doesn't move. Doesn't deny it. The silence is answer enough.
"That's why you found me in the Rogue Lands," I continue, pushing myself to sit up despite the screaming protests from my body. "Not because you were being kind. Not because you felt some noble need to save me. Because you needed me."
"Yes," Cassian says simply, and the honesty in that single word is somehow worse than a lie would have been.
I turn to look at him, and even through my pain and exhaustion and betrayal, I see the truth in his posture. He's not going to hide from this. Not anymore.
"Tell me," I demand. "Tell me everything."
He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice is measured and careful. "I suspected your identity for years. The Moonborn bloodline was supposed to be extinct, but there were rumors. Whispers. A child born without a wolf but with ancient power moving beneath the surface. When I heard about a wolfless woman being exiled from Silvercrest Pack—a woman named Isla Thorne—I investigated."
"And?" I prompt, because I can hear the weight of confession in his voice.
"And when I confirmed it was you, I went to find you," he says. "Not out of charity, Isla. Out of necessity. I need a Moonborn Luna to break a curse that's been slowly destroying me for thirteen years."
The words land like a physical blow.
"What curse?" I ask, and the question comes out small and broken.
His hand moves to his mask, and his fingers trace the edge of the obsidian with something that looks almost like reverence mixed with revulsion.
"The one that keeps me alive," he says quietly. "And alone."
"Explain," I demand.
He leans back in the chair, and I can see the tension radiating from him. "When I was nineteen, rival packs orchestrated a coup. They attacked the Lycan fortress and slaughtered my entire family. My mother, my father, my sister—everyone I loved was destroyed in a single night. I was supposed to die with them."
His voice is flat now, emotionless. But I can hear the screaming underneath it.
"A blood witch found me in the ruins," he continues. "She was dying from injuries sustained in the attack. She told me I could live if I accepted her curse. I said yes without hesitation. I was a grieving teenager who had nothing left to lose."
"What was the curse?" I ask.
"She bound me to an obsidian mask," he says, and his hand grips the edge of his chair hard enough that the wood creaks. "The mask keeps me alive. It's woven with magic that prevents aging, prevents illness, prevents death. But it also prevents healing. It prevents vulnerability. It prevents me from ever being close to another person without causing them pain."
He stands abruptly and walks to the window, creating distance between us.
"Every time I try to remove it, the curse screams," he says. "Every moment I wear it, I'm slowly dying inside. I'm living a half-life, trapped in a prison of my own survival. And the only way to break it is to bond with a Moonborn Luna. To create a union so complete, so powerful, that it can shatter thirteen years of dark magic."
The revelation sits between us, heavy and impossible.
"So I was right," I say bitterly. "You don't care about me. You care about what I can give you."
"That was true when I found you," he says, turning back to face me. "When I pulled you from the Rogue Lands, my only thought was the prophecy. The curse. What you could become that would save me."
He moves closer, and his voice drops into something raw and honest.
"But somewhere between that moment and now, something changed," he says. "Somewhere between watching you sleep in fever dreams and feeding you your favorite tea and listening to you laugh with Kaia, what I needed and what I wanted became the same thing."
"How can I trust that?" I ask, and I hate how broken my voice sounds. "How can I believe anything you say when you've been manipulating me from the beginning?"
"You can't," he says, and there's something almost like resignation in his tone. "Not yet. But you will. When you feel the bond complete between us. When you understand that what I feel for you has nothing to do with prophecy or curse or destiny, and everything to do with you."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. But I've been lied to before. I've trusted someone before, and it destroyed me.
"The baby," I say suddenly. "You claimed my child. Is that also part of your plan? Is my baby supposed to be some kind of magical heir to complete your grand design?"
Cassian goes absolutely still.
"No," he says, and there's something almost protective in his voice. "The child carries both Moonborn and Lycan bloodlines through you. That makes them incredibly powerful, yes. But I claimed them because I wanted to protect them. Because I wanted them to grow up knowing they have a father who will stand beside them no matter what."
"Why?" I ask. "Why do you even care?"
"Because you care," he says simply. "And somewhere along the way, what you care about became what I care about too."
There's a knock at the door, and Mira enters, but Cassian doesn't move. Doesn't look away from me.
"The awakening is complete," Mira announces. "Isla's wolf is fully emerged. She should be able to shift now if she chooses."
"How long?" Cassian asks, his voice tight.
"Until the wedding?" Mira asks. "Three days, my King."
Three days until I marry this man. Three days until I'm bound to him legally, spiritually, in every way that matters.
"Isla needs rest," Mira says, and there's something knowing in her ancient eyes. "You should leave her, Cassian. Let her process what she's learned."
He nods, though it clearly costs him. He moves toward the door, but I stop him with my voice.
"Cassian?"
He pauses.
"Show me," I say quietly. "Not the full mask. Not yet. But show me something. Prove that you're willing to be vulnerable with me, even if I'm not ready to be with you yet."
For a long moment, he doesn't move.
Then, slowly, he reaches up. His gloved fingers find the edge of the mask, and he starts to lift it just slightly, just enough to reveal the lower edge of his jaw.
What I see makes my breath catch.
Scars. Deep, brutal claw marks that run from his chin down beneath the collar of his shirt. Savage wounds that never fully healed. Marks of a violence so extreme that I can almost feel the pain of receiving them.
"Thirteen years," he says softly. "And they still haven't healed."
He drops the mask back into place before I can see more, but it's enough. It's enough to show me that whatever curse he's under, whatever darkness he carries, it's real and it's suffering and it's slowly consuming him.
"In three days," he says, "when you become my Luna, we'll begin the ritual to break the curse. And when it breaks, Isla, everything will change."
He turns to leave, but he pauses at the door.
"Including what you feel for me," he says quietly. "The bond will complete, and you'll understand. You'll feel everything I've been feeling since the moment I saw you in that cave."
"And if I don't?" I ask. "What if the bond doesn't work the way you think? What if—"
"Then I'll have been a fool," he says. "But I'll have been a fool for love, not for prophecy. And that's something I can live with."
He leaves, and I'm alone with Mira and the weight of impossible truths.
"He loves you," Mira says gently.
"He loves what I can give him," I say bitterly.
"Perhaps," Mira says. "But love that begins with need often becomes love that transcends need. Give him a chance, child. And give yourself a chance too."
She leaves me with my racing thoughts and my aching body and a wolf inside me that's finally, finally free.
And I realize with cold certainty:
In three days, I'm going to marry the Lycan King.
And when I do, my entire world is going to shatter all over again.
But this time, I won't be breaking.
I'll be transforming.