Chapter 64

Cora

The motel room was dimly lit by the single lamp on the nightstand, casting soft golden light over Kingston’s face as he sat beside me on the bed. Riley was fast asleep in the other bed across the room, curled under a blanket with his little arms wrapped around his stuffed dragon. His breathing was soft and even, completely unaware of the storm raging in my chest.

I couldn’t sleep.

Not with the weight of my wolf’s words echoing inside me.

You are the Moon’s Daughter.

It had sounded powerful. Ancient. Like something I should understand, but didn’t. And what scared me the most was the flicker of truth I felt when she said it, as if the words weren’t just metaphor, but true, meaningful prophecy.

It was a destiny I hadn’t asked for. A title I didn’t want.

“Kingston,” I said softly, turning toward him. “What does it mean? The Moon’s Daughter.”

He blinked, then turned to face me fully. He had been watching Riley—his son—with tear-filled eyes. I don’t believe I could have given him a better gift than this news. He embraced the possibility of being Riley’s father as easily as slipping into a pair of well-worn shoes.

But at the mention of the Moon daughter, his shoulders tensed, and the air in the room shifted, like something sacred was about to be said.

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” he murmured.

“Well,” I whispered, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening before he spoke. “It’s an old prophecy. One whispered more than it’s studied. I didn’t believe in it for a long time.”

My stomach turned.

He reached out, gently brushing his knuckles against my cheek, like grounding himself in me before the truth came out.

“They say the Moon’s Daughter will be born of wolf’s blood and raised among humans,” he said. “That her power will sleep until the world begins to crumble. She is destined to bring balance—or ruin—to both werewolf and humankind. If she succeeds, there will be unity among all.”

I sucked in a breath.

“She’s not chosen,” he added. “She is. A force of nature. Something the Moon made to restore what we broke. And she’ll be more powerful than any Alpha, stronger than any bloodline.”

“Restore what we broke?” I asked. “You mean… the division between species?”

He nodded. “The corruption. The greed. The way strength became something to wield instead of protect. The Moon made a daughter to remind us of her original intent. Unity. Protection. Truth.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

“And you think that’s me?”

“I know it’s you.”

I stood, pacing the small room. “You can’t know that. You barely knew me when we met—”

“I felt it,” he said. “In my bones. I feel it now. And with everything that’s happened—your sealed wolf, your hidden strength, the way people follow you even when they’re afraid. It is you, Cora.”

“But… I’m not strong,” I whispered.

Kingston stood, crossing over to me. “Yes, you are.”

I shook my head. “I was running. Hiding. I killed Zach. I was willing to disappear forever just to keep you and Riley safe. That’s not power. That’s desperation.”

He reached out and took both of my hands in his. “You call it desperation. I call it sacrifice. Courage. You faked your own death, burned everything to the ground, and carried your son across the country just to keep him safe. You have no idea how rare that kind of strength is.”

My throat tightened.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I said.

It was too much responsibility. I would be expected to unite mortal enemies, bring together the oppressed with their oppressors. It was too tall a task for one person, especially someone like me who was still ignorant of the extent of their powers.

“I know,” he said gently. “But the Moon rarely asks. It demands.”

I turned away from him, pressing a palm to the cool windowpane. Outside, the neon glow of the gas station across the parking lot buzzed, casting light across the glass. A whole world lay beyond, a world I was suddenly tasked with protecting and unifying.

I stared into the window, looking for clarity. For peace. For anything that would make this feel less terrifying.

“What if I can’t do it?” I whispered.

Kingston stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Then we face the consequences together.”

“And Riley?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. “What happens to him if this prophecy puts a target on me? On us?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “To protect both of you. To stand between you and anyone who dares come for our son.”

“I don’t want him to grow up in a world that fears him,” I said. “Or worse, expects him to be something because of me.”

“I’ll make sure he’s free to become whoever he chooses to be,” Kingston said softly. “Even if you do not succeed—which in and of itself seems unlikely—I will gladly look after Riley and make sure he only knows a kind world.”

The words settled into my soul like a promise. A tether. I leaned back into his chest, letting myself feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back.

For a moment, we just stood there in the quiet.

Then I asked the question I’d been avoiding.

“What if I fail and make it all worse, like the second half of the prophecy suggested?”

Kingston turned me to face him, his hand curling under my chin to lift my gaze. “You won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I don’t need to,” he said. “Because I know you. And if this prophecy is real—and I believe it is—then it chose the only woman stubborn and brave enough to carry it out.”

I smiled weakly, more tears burning at the edges of my eyes.

He tilted his head. “Do you want to run away again?”

“No.”

“Then stay,” he said. “Let me carry this with you.”

I hesitated. He made it all sound so easy. Perhaps it was.

“Cora,” he said, brushing a thumb under my eye. “Mate to mate. Whatever happens—power, prophecy, fate—I’m with you. Every step.”

I nodded, finally.

“I’m scared,” I said.

“So am I,” he admitted.

“But I’m tired of hiding,” I whispered.

“Then we’ll stop hiding,” he said. “Together.”

Something shifted inside me then. Not just fear, not just grief—but something deeper. A surrender. Not to the prophecy. Not to destiny. But to the bond. To this man who had stood by me through blood and fire and pain. Who had chased me across the country, not out of obligation, but love.

“I want to be with you,” I said.

He smiled softly. “Then be with me.”

I leaned into him, letting his lips brush against mine. The kiss was slow. Intentional. A vow of its own.

When we pulled apart, he whispered, “No matter what the Moon made you for, you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

I rested my forehead against his, letting the peace of those words wash over me.

Whatever the Moon’s Daughter was meant to be, I wouldn’t have to face it alone.