CHAPTER 158: HEARTBEAT AS ONE

They moved like wolves in perfect rhythm, every touch a conversation, every gasp a shared breath. Athena let go of thought, of control, letting her alphas take over—let them guide her, fill her, consume her.

Lucas positioned her onto her back, his body settling between her legs, the weight of him pressing deliciously against her core. He slid inside her slowly, inch by inch, while Cassius knelt above her, feeding her kisses and stroking her breasts, watching her unravel with patient hunger.

Lucas didn’t rush. He thrust with long, deep strokes, watching her with eyes burning gold.

"She’s squeezing me so tight," he murmured to Cassius. "Like she doesn’t want to let go."

"Don’t let her," Cassius growled, voice fraying. "Not yet."

Athena writhed, panting, her nails digging into Lucas’s back, her mouth reaching blindly for Cassius’s. And when Cassius kissed her again—one hand on her throat, the other tangled in her hair—she felt herself begin to crack open.

But they didn’t let her fall.

Not yet.

Lucas slowed, his movements growing more deliberate. Cassius slid down to her side, fingers moving to circle her clit in slow, punishing rhythm. The combination was too much. Perfect. Devastating.

Her wolf rose again—howling, climbing.

"I can’t—" she gasped. "I’m going to—"

"Then break for us," Lucas said, voice thick with love and dominance. "Fall, goddess. We’ll catch you."

And she did.

She shattered with a cry that echoed through the stone walls, her body pulsing around him, legs trembling, vision white with ecstasy. Lucas followed with a growl, burying himself deep as he came, his heat mixing with hers.

But Cassius wasn’t done.

Not yet.

He pulled her into his arms, kissed her deeply, and whispered, "One more. From me. For me."

She nodded, barely able to breathe.

Lucas stepped aside, breath still ragged, watching as Cassius took his place—hovering above her like a wolf who’d waited centuries. His eyes searched hers, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. Not regret. Not rivalry.

Devotion.

Then he thrust into her with one long, smooth stroke.

She cried out—already sensitive, already spent—but her body welcomed him, craved him. Cassius was rougher than Lucas. Sharper. But this time, he held back just enough to make it last. His rhythm was demanding, but tender. Fast, but worshipful.

"Let me have this," he growled, forehead pressed to hers. "Let me feel like I still belong."

"You do," she whispered. "You always have."

He came with a gasp and a moan of her name, collapsing beside her, pulling her into his arms just as Lucas curled around her from the other side.

And there—sandwiched between them, claimed by both, heart thunderously full—Athena finally slept.

The wind tasted like snow and lightning.

They stood at the edge of the cliff, where the palace gave way to the ancient hunting grounds. Below them, the forest stretched for miles—wild, untouched, sacred. The moon, still swollen and bright from the night before, hovered like an eye watching its chosen ones.

Athena stood barefoot on the stone, her body wrapped in a silver mantle that shimmered like mist, her hair unbound, her breath curling into the night air. On either side of her, Lucas and Cassius stood shirtless, bare to the waist, eyes glowing in the dark, their wolves so close to the surface the air vibrated with their tension.

The bond throbbed between them, raw and alive, but no longer demanding.

Now, it called to be released.

Athena spoke first, her voice soft, carried on the wind.

"I’ve never shifted with you both."

Lucas nodded once. "It’s time."

Cassius’s voice was a low growl. "The bond’s not just skin and heat. It’s blood. Pack. Soul."

She stepped forward.

And with one breath, her goddess form melted away—moonfire erupting around her, swallowing her in light.

Where she stood, a wolf rose.

Tall and regal, silver-white with streaks of black flame curling down her flanks. Her eyes were molten gold, glowing with divine fire. Her paws left sparks in the grass as she moved, and the markings of her name-bond still shimmered beneath her fur—Cassius to the right, Lucas to the left.

A soft growl rolled from her throat—low, commanding, expectant.

Lucas shifted next.

His body bowed under the moonlight, bones snapping and reforming in a smooth, disciplined motion. When he rose, his wolf was a storm: midnight gray with a flash of silver across his muzzle and shoulders, eyes sharp and calculating. He looked at her not with challenge, but deference—and loyalty.

Then came Cassius.

Where Lucas had flowed, Cassius shattered.

His shift was fierce, raw, feral—a beast reborn. His wolf was a dark blur of ash and frost, massive and muscled, his snarl echoing through the trees before fading into a proud silence. His eyes were brighter than fire, and yet they softened when they met hers.

The three wolves stood in a triangle.

Three shadows under the Moon.

For a moment, none moved.

Then Athena stepped forward, nose brushing Lucas’s cheek, marking him with a rumble of approval. He bowed his head, tail sweeping once in acknowledgment.

She turned to Cassius and pressed her snout against his, biting gently at his throat—not a challenge, but a reminder. You are mine. He lowered his head with a deep growl, not out of submission, but respect.

Then they ran.

Together.

Through the high pines, over fallen trees, across the frozen riverbanks where the stars reflected like shattered glass.

They ran without speaking.

Without thinking.

Just instinct.

And in that motion—paws thundering, breath steaming, bodies moving as one—they felt the bond in its purest form.

Athena ran ahead, leading them with regal, fluid grace. Lucas followed just behind to her left, his gait swift and silent, ever her shield. Cassius flanked her right, wilder, occasionally pushing forward to challenge—but never overtaking. Never separating.

The trees seemed to part for them.

The forest recognized her.

Not as predator.

Not even as goddess.

But as Alpha.

Their Alpha.

At a break in the trees, Athena skidded to a stop. Lucas and Cassius flanked her instinctively, ears perked, muscles coiled. But there was no threat—only open space.

The glade was ancient, ringed with stones so old even time had forgotten who placed them there. In the center grew a massive oak, its branches hollowed with the symbols of the Moon.

Athena stepped into it.

Lucas followed.

Cassius came last.

The three wolves stood in the center and lifted their heads.

And howled.

Not a song of loneliness.

Not war.

But unity.

The howl echoed for miles—felt more than heard.

And in its wake, the forest stilled.

The Moon above them pulsed once.

The glade was quiet, wrapped in the hush of first light. Not the hush of emptiness, but of fullness—the breath the world holds after something sacred has passed through.

Morning sunlight bled slowly through the trees, gold slicing through mist. Dew clung to the blades of grass, catching the light like crystals. The breeze whispered low, respectful, almost reverent, and the forest held its silence as if to not disturb the ones lying at its heart.

Athena was the first to stir.

She didn’t wake all at once, but in pieces. A breath. A heartbeat. The flutter of her lashes against her cheeks. The slow awareness of warmth—not the divine fire that surged through her veins in battle, not the cold power of a goddess reborn—but something quieter. Deeper. A mortal warmth, made of skin and closeness and scent.

She was lying between them again.

Lucas behind her. Cassius in front. Their bodies were bare, tangled around hers, skin to skin in a silent echo of everything that had happened the night before. The bond between the three of them wasn’t humming or pulsing anymore—it was purring, content and slow and settled. It curled through her chest like a second heartbeat, answering to the primal call of the Moon, now claimed in full.