I wake to silence.
Not the heavy, guarded quiet that usually follows battle or injury—but something softer. Settled. The kind of silence that doesn't feel empty, just… complete.
Sunlight filters through the tall windows, warm against my skin. The sheets are cool where Samantha should be, her absence immediately noticeable—not like a wound, but like the echo of something that's already moved on with purpose.
She was always like that.
I roll onto my back, one hand resting over my chest as instinct takes over.
The bond is there.
Whole.
Deep.
No longer a sharp tether pulling at me from across the room or the castle, but a constant presence woven directly into my heartbeat. Samantha doesn't need to be here for me to feel her. She's everywhere now. In my blood. In my bones. In the very way my wolf stretches lazily inside me, utterly content for the first time in his long, brutal existence.
Cade exhales, slow and satisfied.
'Marked,' he rumbles. 'Claimed. Ours.'
I huff softly. "You sound pleased."
'As I should. She's finally ours.'
There's no edge to his possessiveness this morning. No tension. No snarling vigilance. Just pride. Deep, ancient pride, like something long denied, has finally been set right.
"She went to the kitchen," I murmured aloud, though I know he already knows.
'Yes. With her people.'
Our Queen does not linger in bed when there is a world waiting.
The title still sends a strange ripple through me—but not discomfort.
Peace.
I sit up slowly, the events of the night replaying not as heat, but as connection. The marking. The certainty. The way her presence had anchored me so completely that the crown itself had finally loosened its grip on my soul.
I was never meant to carry it alone.
And now, I don't have to.
After dressing, I make my way through the corridors, staff bowing instinctively as I pass. Their gazes flicker—curious, knowing. They can scent it on me. On the very air around me.
Mated.
Marked.
No longer Alpha King in the way I once was.
And yet… they look at me with no less respect.
"She's Queen," I murmur to Cade, the thought settling easily now. Naturally. "Alpha."
'As she should be,' he answers without hesitation.
I wait for the sting. The instinctive flare of loss I once feared would come with that realization.
It doesn't come. What I feel instead is relief so profound it nearly brings me to my knees.
The throne never fit me the way it should have. I wore it because I was born into the aftermath of theft and blood and expectation but Samantha was born for it. The kingdom didn't bend for me out of destiny.
It bent for her out of recognition.
—---------
The study door is already open when I arrive.
They're all there.
Callen leans against the desk, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. The twins sprawl in their usual mirrored laziness, identical grins already forming. And Enoch—
Enoch straightens the moment I enter.
He inhales.
Then freezes.
Oh, Moon Goddess.
"Well," he says slowly, voice rich with satisfaction, "that answers every question I was politely pretending not to ask."
The twins burst out laughing.
"Confirmed," one says.
"Verified," the other adds. "I told you."
"Absolutely told you," the other agrees. "You owe me twenty."
I arch a brow, folding my arms. "You're all insufferable."
"Yes," Callen says cheerfully. "But we're right."
They don't bow.
They don't kneel.
They don't need to.
The room hums with approval instead—instinctive, warm, unmistakable.
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. "I've been awake less than an hour."
"And already," Enoch says cheerfully, "you smell like a man who will never know peace again."
Callen snorts. "Welcome to mating."
"I hate all of you," I mutter, though there's no heat in it.
Enoch claps his hands together. "So," he says, entirely too interested, "how many walls were damaged?"
"None," I snap.
The twins snicker.
"Disappointing," one says.
"Tragic, really," the other adds.
I shake my head, unable to stop the laugh that escapes me. It feels good—normal—to be here like this, stripped of ceremony and tension.
The twins stand, circling me like predators with entirely too much interest.
"So," one begins.
"Who bit who first?" the other asks.
I glare.
They grin wider.
Enoch lifts a hand. "Gentlemen, please. Our former king deserves dignity."
Former.
The word lands—and doesn't hurt.
"Former reigning monarch," I correct mildly. "Still very capable of throwing you out a window."
"Ah," Enoch nods. "But would you? Your Queen might disapprove."
The room erupts.
Callen laughs openly now, shaking his head. "They're never going to let this go."
I take my seat, exhaling. "I'm… happy," I say, simply.
The room stills not dramatically, not heavily. Just enough for them to listen.
"I know things are changing," I continue. "I know the kingdom is shifting. And I want you all to know I'm not angry. I'm not threatened."
Callen nods slowly. "Because she's the Alpha."
"Yes," I say. "Because she always was."
No one argues.
No one even looks surprised.
Enoch snorts. "Good. Because if you were upset, I'd have had to knock some sense into you."
I glare at him. "You would not."
"Oh, I absolutely would," he says easily. "King Alpha or not, I refuse to serve a sulking male."
One of the twins grins. "Careful, Enoch. He might demote you."
"To what?" Enoch scoffs. "Luna?"
The room explodes.
I groan. "Do not call me that."
Ever.
Enoch wipes at his eyes. "Come on. Think about it. You'd be great. Very supportive. Very regal."
"I will throw you out a window."
"Worth it."
I point at him. "Choose your next words very carefully."
He holds up his hands, unrepentant. "All I'm saying is…you look happy."
The room quiets, just slightly.
I breathe out.
"I am."
It's simple. Honest.
"I thought I'd feel… displaced," I admit. "After everything. After realizing the throne was never truly mine."
No one interrupts.
"But I don't," I continue. "I feel… lighter. Like the world finally stopped asking me to be something I wasn't born to be."
Callen nods slowly. "Because she was."
"Yes."
The twins exchange a glance, unusually serious.
"She's terrifying," one says.
"In the best way," the other adds.
Enoch smiles to himself. " They all are."
I look at him then—really look.
At the quiet confidence. The way his shoulders relax when Cam isn't even in the room, because he knows exactly where she is. Who she is to him.
"You love her, Cam" I say.
He doesn't hesitate. "With everything I am."
The laughter fades into something softer as Enoch's tone shifts—not somber, but sincere.
"Mating changes you," he says. "Fast. Hard. Doesn't matter how long you've waited."
I meet his gaze.
"I didn't think I'd ever feel this settled," I admit. "This… sure."
Enoch nods. "That's how you know."
Something in my chest tightens—not painfully. Reverently.
My throat tightens.
I think of Cam's laughter. Of how Sam lights up when she's around her. Of the way Enoch grounds her without ever dimming her fire.
"You're a good mate," I say. "And a better Gamma."
His eyes flicker—surprised. Then he nods once. "I won't fail her, both of them."
"I know."
And in that moment, I realized something else.
I should have made him Gamma years ago.
I stand, the weight of leadership still ahead of us, but redistributed now. Balanced.
"I'm not the Alpha," I say. " In the way I once was.But I will fight to protect this kingdom."
They all nod in agreement.
"Speaking of fighting? How about a couple rounds in the training field," one of the twins asked.