They reached the private wing reserved for the Alpha’s lineage.
The doors shut behind them with a solid, echoing finality, sealing out the distant noise of the Crest Convergence grounds. No chants. No murmurs. No eyes watching.
Just silence.
Amelia felt it crash into her like a wave—the release of pressure she hadn’t realized had been pressing against her chest all night. Her steps slowed, then stopped altogether as the weight of what had happened finally settled.
Ethan was still holding her hand.
Not loosely. Not absently.
Firm. Anchored.
As though letting go might cause the ground beneath them to shift again.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
The private wing was vast but understated—dark wood, stone walls etched with the crests of past Alphas, low lighting designed fo
