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Chapter 12: The Contract is Burning

They were back in New York. Day 28.

The penthouse felt different now. Not cold. Lived-in. Ava's shoes by door. Her oat milk in fridge. Her pack hoodie on couch.

Ethan's side of closet had space cleared for her dresses.

And on coffee table, in black folder, the contract.

*FAKE DATING AGREEMENT - 30 DAYS - $100,000 - BETWEEN ETHAN BLACKSTONE AND AVA MILLER*

Clause 7 highlighted: No kissing on mouth.

They had broken it. Not mouth. But forehead. Hand. Almost everything except mouth.

Clause 12: No falling in love.

They had broken that too. Badly.

Ava sat on floor, in his t-shirt, reading it for last time.

Ethan stood by fireplace. Real fireplace, rare in Manhattan. He hadn't lit it in three years. Since crash.

"You read it again," he said.

"Day 28," Ava whispered. "Two days left. Then you pay me and I go back to Queens. To Chen's. To Maya's couch maybe."

"Is that what you want?" Ethan asked, voice even.

Ava didn't answer. She traced his signature. Strong, black.

"I don't know what I want anymore," she said honestly. "Two weeks ago I wanted $100k to save my dad's house. Now dad's house is saved - you paid hospital bill - and I... I have pack hoodie and Goddess mark and a wolf who lets me ride him."

"You have me," Ethan said quietly.

Ava looked up. Ethan in sweatpants, barefoot, hair messy, holding a lighter.

"I have you for two more days," she said.

"No," Ethan said. He walked to coffee table, picked up contract, all pages.

He held it over fireplace.

"Ethan, what are you doing? That's legal - "

"I know what it is," he said. "It was protection. For both of us. So no one got hurt. But we got hurt anyway. Or... we got something else."

He clicked lighter.

Paper caught. Gold edges, like her mark. Burning.

Ava gasped. "Ethan!"

He dropped burning pages into fireplace. Fire flared, eating $100k, eating Clause 7, eating 30 days.

They watched it burn.

"Contract is burning," Ethan said softly. "So tell me, Ava Miller, no contract, no Goddess, no pack watching - what do you want?"

Ava stood, heart pounding louder than fire.

"I want - " She stopped.

She wanted to say: I want to stay. I want to learn to howl right. I want to make bad pancakes forever. I want you.

But old fear - human girl, billionaire King - held tongue.

Ethan stepped closer, firelight on his face, amber eyes soft.

"I'll go first," he whispered. "I want you to stay. Not as fake Luna. Not as paid girlfriend. As real. As mine. I want to tear up that check for $100k and write new one. For life. Unlimited. Bad deal for you, because you get stuck with wolf who sleeps on floor unless you let him in bed."

Ava laughed, tears starting.

"Ethan - "

"I love you," he said, simple. No Alpha voice. Just man. "I think I loved you when you stood up at gala in cheap dress. I know I love you now when you choose me over normal life. I love you, Ava. Human Luna. My human Luna."

Ava's mark flared, bright gold, visible through t-shirt, lighting room like second fireplace.

She touched it, then touched his face.

"I love you too," she whispered. "I think I loved you when you carried me out and didn't ask for thanks. I know I love you now when you burned $100k to keep me."

Ethan's hands shook.

"Can I?" he asked, eyes on her mouth. First time asking.

Clause 7 gone. Burned.

Ava nodded.

Ethan kissed her.

Not forehead. Not hand.

Mouth. Real. Slow at first, like asking, then deeper, like answer. Like home.

Ava tasted coffee, fire, cedar, him. She made small sound and clutched his shoulders, pulling closer.

His wolf growled, happy, inside both of them.

When they broke, both breathing hard, Ava pressed forehead to his.

"So," she whispered, lips swollen. "Do I still get $100k?"

Ethan laughed, loud, free, first real laugh since crash.

"You get everything," he said. "House, pack, company, my terrible howling. Everything is yours."

"Everything?" Ava teased, kissing him again.

"Everything," Ethan growled, picking her up, carrying her to bedroom - no pillow wall anymore, just bed, big, theirs.

And on fireplace, contract turned to ash, gold dust mixing with air, while outside, New York kept flashing, and inside, billionaire Alpha King finally, after three years of cold, was warm again.

Because human Luna said yes.