*** MARCO'S POV ***
The hallway was quiet—too quiet. My hand lingered on Mia's doorknob longer than it should have. I had just confessed something I'd buried for far too long. But she didn't judge. That was Mia. Gentle even when the world demanded sharp edges.
I stepped out, my heart oddly light, and almost bumped into Max.
She stood there in the golden wash of the hallway light, wrapped in a soft burgundy sweater that clung to her like a second skin, paired with black jeans that hugged her legs. Her hair was in loose waves, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla hit me like a wave of memories. Her eyes—those hazel eyes—looked up at me with something between hesitation and hope.
"Marco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
My breath caught. For all the power I had as a werewolf, nothing ever quite prepared me for the effect Max had on me.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
I nodded silently and gestured toward the balcony at the end of the hallway. We stepped into the open air, where the scent of blooming night-blooming jasmine mixed with the earthy smell of dew-damp wood. The moon hung low and round in the sky, a silent observer.
Max leaned on the railing, her arms folded. "I heard what you told Mia."
I leaned beside her. "I figured you would."
"I didn't know how much it still mattered to you," she said, voice cracking slightly.
"Because I buried it. Because when everything went to hell, I thought we were done. I was angry—hurt. I didn't know the truth. And I let you go."
She turned to me then, eyes glossy. "Marco, I never wanted to hurt you. I was protecting Mia. You know that now, right?"
"I do," I said quietly. "And I was a fool to ever doubt you."
Max stepped closer, her fingers brushing mine on the railing. "Do you still love me?"
I didn't hesitate. "Yes. More than I want to admit. Even after everything. You were it for me, Max. You still are."
Tears slipped down her cheek, and I turned fully toward her, wiping them away with my thumb. Her hand found my chest, resting over my heart.
"I love you too, Marco," she whispered.
Then she leaned in.
The kiss was slow, full of all the things we'd left unsaid—apologies, promises, desire. Her lips tasted like sweet tea and warmth, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer, like if I held her tight enough, time would stop.
When we finally pulled away, breathless, I rested my forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry I let you go," I murmured.
"And I'm sorry I didn't fight harder," she replied.
We stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other, listening to the world breathe around us.
Eventually, Max pulled back just slightly. "Marco… what are we going to do about Mia?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "That's the part that worries me."
"She's pregnant. With Andreis' child. And she hasn't turned yet."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I admitted. "If her body doesn't shift before the baby starts to grow stronger… it could tear her apart from the inside."
Max went pale. "Has Andreis said anything?"
"He knows the risk. But I don't think even he's sure what to do. The timing of her shift has always been tied to instinct, to fate. And now there's this child accelerating everything."
Max's fingers curled around mine again. "We have to protect her. Whatever it takes."
I nodded. "We will. She's our family."
Max smiled at that. "Family."
I kissed her forehead. "I don't know what's coming next, but I want to face it with you. No more secrets. No more running."
"Then we face it together," she said.
The wind picked up slightly, ruffling her hair. We stood there in the moonlight, holding each other, two souls stitched back together by truth and forgiveness.
Neither of us said it aloud—but we both knew.
Something was coming.
And it was going to test us all.