The black SUV hadn't even come to a full stop before Rikae was out the door.
He didn't adjust his cuffs. He didn't check the perimeter. He stood at the edge of the rose garden, his chest heaving as if he'd run a hundred miles instead of driven them. The scent of her, the woodsmoke, the lavender, and the faint, underlying hum of his own soul, hit him like a physical wall.
Lisra was by the well, a wooden bucket in her hand. She froze. The bucket hit the stones with a hollow thud, water spilling out like the months they had wasted.
She didn't scream. She didn't hide. She just stood there, her eyes widening as she saw the man standing in her garden. He wasn't the "Vessel" who had visited her three days ago. This man was vibrating. This man was gold.
"Rikae?" she breathed.
Rikae took a step. Then another. His logical mind tried to calculate a greeting, a way to explain the audio log, a way to apologize for the delete key.
But the Wolf was done with calculations.
A roar ripped from Rikae's throat—not a sound of anger, but a raw, agonizing cry of a predator finding its way back to the light. The sound vibrated the very air between them.
His walk broke. He didn't just move toward her; he ran.
He moved with a blurred, supernatural speed that tore up the frozen grass beneath his boots. He didn't care if he looked desperate. He didn't care if Silas was watching from the road. He was a dying man reaching for the only source of oxygen in the world.
Lisra met him halfway. She didn't recoil from the force of his approach; she threw herself forward, her arms outstretched.
They collided with the force of two stars crashing.
Rikae's arms wrapped around her, pulling her so tight against his chest that her feet left the ground. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent until his lungs burned. The "Ghost Ache" didn't return, instead, it was replaced by a searing, brand-like heat where their skin touched.
The bond wasn't just humming; it was screaming.
"I heard it," Rikae choked out, his voice thick and broken against her skin. "Lisra... I heard Kael. I heard the frequency. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Lisra's hands were in his hair, her fingers clutching his scalp as if she were afraid he would turn back into stone if she let go. She was sobbing, the sound muffled against his tactical coat.
"You came back," she gasped between breaths. "You're warm. Rikae, you're warm again."
"I'm here," he whispered, his eyes blazing a pure, unyielding gold. "I'm not a machine. I'm not the Lead Beta. I'm yours. If you'll have me... I'm yours until the Moon falls."
In the doorway of the cottage, Kael appeared, a shotgun gripped in his hands and tears streaming down his face. He saw the way Rikae was holding his sister, not like a trophy, but like a lifeline. He saw the raw, shaking vulnerability of the most powerful Beta in the North.
Slowly, Kael lowered the weapon.
Rikae didn't see him. He didn't see anything but the woman in his arms. The Wolf in his mind finally lay down, not in a cage, but in the sun, its long winter finally over.
But as they held each other in the center of the garden, a shadow moved in the treeline. Caspian watched through a long-range scope, a cold smile twisting his lips.
"There it is," Caspian whispered to his earpiece. "The 'Gold Standard' has a pulse again. And now that he has a heart... it's finally time to break it."