Chapter 14
Bolton
She’s still trembling beneath my hands.
Not from fear. From aftermath.
The shift has drained her. The first one always does—it’s like being cracked open from the inside, like your soul grew wings overnight and had to claw its way through muscle and bone to fly.
But Maya’s eyes are sharp. Her chin is up. Her hands are unsteady, but her gaze doesn’t waver.
The circle around us is still hushed, like the forest itself is holding its breath.
Cassie doesn’t say a word. Just gathers herself up—barefoot, bloodied pride clinging to her like smoke—and stalks into the trees.
Shoulders squared, chin high, trying to salvage what’s left of her image.
No one follows. Not even her so-called friends.
They stay rooted to the sidelines like they don’t want to catch whatever she’s bleeding.
Maybe I should feel bad.
I don’t.
Not when I remember how she planned all of this—cornered Maya, counted on her breaking down in front of the whole pack like it was entertainment.
She got a show, all right. Just not the one she thought she’d direct.
And she’s not getting my sympathy.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
She didn't lose because Maya was stronger.
She lost because Maya didn't stop when she was expected to.
She rose.
I tighten my arms around her, grounding us both. Her skin is damp with sweat, her pulse still racing beneath mine. She’s trembling, every line of her body raw with the shock of what just happened. But she doesn’t pull away.
Slowly, I lower my forehead to hers, closing the space that fear and fire tried to wedge between us. Her fists are curled against my chest, but I feel them loosen, just a little, and one slips free, fingers threading around the fabric of my shirt like an anchor.
Still burning. Still shaking.
But she’s here.
And she’s mine.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She blinks once, then twice—like she’s tuning back in to her own body. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I think so?”
I smile. It’s not much. Just this cracked, breathless thing. But it’s genuine. “You shifted.”
Her eyes widen, and then she laughs—short, stunned, a little wild. “Yeah,” she says, like she only just remembered. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t just shift,” I tell her. “You dominated a trained wolf before even knowing what you were capable of.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“No,” I say. “That’s supposed to be history.”
“You okay?” I whisper.
A soft voice cuts across the clearing with the precision of a blade.
“Maya.”
I turn my head, startled. Maya goes still beside me.
From the shadows beyond the ring, Elena Ortiz steps forward.
She’s out of place among the torchlight and bristling ranks of the pack, but she carries herself with quiet force—as if her presence itself is a challenge to centuries of custom.
Dark hair winds loose around her shoulders, streaked with silver and moonlight, her face pale with tension. But her eyes—her eyes are steady.
“Mom?” Maya breathes.
The circle shifts again, this time with a ripple of murmurs. Heads swivel. Someone swears under their breath. Those who recognize Elena stare wide-eyed. Those who don’t still feel it—the weight of her.
Elena stops just at the edge of the circle but she doesn’t step inside.
“You did it,” she says, her voice raw and proud and scared all at once. “You found your wolf.”
Maya takes a step toward her—but falters. “You’re here?”
“I told myself I was keeping you safe. But safety isn’t the same as truth.”
A silence spreads again. No one moves.
Elena lifts her chin. “The girl who stood in this ring and shifted tonight… she is both her parents. And you’d all do well to remember who her father was.”
I see Alpha Sharpe at the edge of the torchlight, watching her, unreadable.
Then Elena’s gaze finds her daughter again. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”
Maya nods once—just once—then turns back toward me, wiping at the edge of her eye with the back of her hand.
Behind us, Alpha Sharpe steps forward again. The crowd shifts like wind-blown grass—some heads bowed, some turned. But they’re all watching us.
“Let the witnesses bear truth,” the Alpha says. “The challenge has been answered. The wolf has awakened. The Luna has risen.”
My breath catches.
So does Maya’s.
There’s no noise in the circle. Just stillness. Recognition.
My father’s voice slices through the hush.
“Bolton.”
I look at him. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Is this your mate?”
My wolf surges forward behind my ribs, pacing. Hungry. Sure.
“She is.” My voice doesn’t shake.
Maya’s eyes snap to mine. I feel her breath catch—but I don’t look away.
“And have you marked her?”
Everyone hears it. Everyone waits.
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
My father raises an eyebrow. Barely. But it’s there.
“Then complete the bond,” he says simply. “The Goddess bears witness beneath this moon, and the pack stands ready.”
Maya turns sharply. “Wait—what?”
I squeeze her hand. “The final step in a mate bond.”
She looks around the circle. “Right now? As in—in front of everyone?”
Dax coughs somewhere behind me. Possibly trying not to laugh. I don't blame him.
I lean closer. “It’s not as public as it sounds. It’s just… a mark. A bite at the base of the neck. It seals the tie. Forever.”
She blinks.
Then tilts her head just slightly. “Forever?”
“If you want it,” I say, watching her closely. “Only if you want it.”
She breathes in. Out. And then—slowly, deliberately—she turns her back to me, pulling her hair away from her neck.
The pack gasps again.
Without a word, I step closer.
I lower my head to the warm curve where her neck meets her shoulder. The skin is damp from effort and radiating the unique, fierce scent that belongs to Maya and no one else.
When I bite, I do it carefully—just enough pressure to break the surface. Just enough to bind us.
Heat flashes through me. Through her.
It hums under my skin like lightning ready to strike.
When I pull back, Maya shudders—but not in fear.
In relief.
My mark glows faintly—silver and gold threads laced into the shape of a crescent moon, just like her father’s pendant.
When she turns to face me, her skin is glowing. Her eyes are molten.
She doesn’t look human anymore.
She looks chosen.
My father steps forward one last time. “It is done.”
The crowd erupts—not in chaos, but in collective breath. There are howls. There are stunned cheers. There are new questions—dozens of them.
But none of them matter right now.
Right now, it’s just me and her.
Maya squeezes my hand. “So… that’s it?”
I grin. “Not quite.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Of course not.”
“You still need to mark me.”
Her eyes widen slightly. Then—shockingly—she smirks. “Publicly?”
I laugh, the sound low and real. “Not unless you want to give the pack a show.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let’s go home.”