Page 20 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

"You always had a choice." Her voice softens with something like pity. "Taking on the curse for Rurik didn't make you a better man. It just gave you an excuse to stop trying to be one at all."

Her words struck me like tangible blows. Behind me, I hear Briar's sharp intake of breath, feel her take a step closer despite everything I've done to push her away. The curse pulses between us, responding to her proximity even now.

"The magic is failing because you've stopped fighting," Angelic continues, frost spreading from her feet as she moves closer. "You accepted the curse as punishment, wrapped yourself in isolation and called it noble sacrifice. But that's not what breaks curses, Ronan. That's what feeds them."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" The question comes out more desperate than I intend. "Let everyone I care about die when it breaks?"

"They're dying anyway." She gestures toward the castle, its dark silhouette barely visible through the trees. "Look at your home, Ronan. Really look. The magic isn't just fading—it's being corrupted. And not just by the curse."

I follow her gaze, really seeing Frostspire Keep through enhanced senses for the first time in years. The magical decay is obvious now—darkness eating away at the foundations, shadows moving where they shouldn't. But there's something else too, something that makes my curse recoil in recognition.

"Rurik," I whisper, the betrayal cutting deep. "He's still... experimenting?"

"The rogue wolves weren't just here to taunt you." Angelic's eyes gleam with otherworldly knowledge. "They're changed. Enhanced. Your brother's work continues, using power he shouldn't have access to. Power that's somehow connected to this place."

Beside me, Briar shivers—from cold or fear or both, I'm not sure. Without thinking, I move closer to her, my body responding to an instinct deeper than the curse. The magic surges between us, and for a moment, the darkness around the castle seems to retreat.

Angelic notices. Of course she notices. "Interesting, isn't it? How the magic strengthens when you stop fighting your heart?"

"It also makes the curse stronger," I argue, but even I can hear the uncertainty in my voice.

"Does it?" She looks pointedly at where Briar stands next to me, unharmed despite the magical energy swirling around us. "Or does it just feel stronger because you're finally feeling something real?"

Rakan's thoughts brush against mine, carrying images from the fight—how my power had grown when protecting Briar, how the curse had seemed to work with me rather than against me.

She's right, brother. The magic is different when she's near.

"The curse feeds on isolation," Angelic says softly. "On fear and guilt and noble suffering. But love?" She smiles, and for once it holds no mockery. "Love transforms. Even the darkest magic can't stand against it forever."

"Unless it kills her first."

"I'm not afraid of dying." Briar's voice is quiet but resolute. When I turn to look at her, her green eyes reflect the same unwavering determination I saw in the library. "What scares me is seeing you quit."

Something breaks inside my chest—a wall I've built so carefully over the years. The curse surges, but it feels different now. Less like chains and more like...hope.

"The choice is yours, Ronan." Angelic begins to fade, her form dissolving into the winter air. "But remember—curses aren't broken by suffering. They're broken by having something worth fighting for."

She disappears, leaving us alone with the silence and the snow and too many dangerous truths. Briar sways slightly, the night's events finally catching up with her. Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms.

"I can walk," she protests weakly.

"I know." But I don't put her down. Can't put her down. The wolf in me needs to know she's safe, and the man... the man needs something else entirely.

As we walk back to the castle, Rakan and my pack flanking us protectively, I feel the weight of Angelic's words settling into my bones. The curse thrums through my blood, as heavy as ever, but somehow different. Or maybe I'm the one who's different.

Because for the first time since taking on this burden, I'm not just enduring it. I'm not just accepting my fate as punishment.

I'm starting to wonder if there might be another way. A better way.

And it starts with the woman in my arms, who refuses to let the darkness win.

Who refuses to let me face it alone.

The curse may feed on isolation, but tonight has proven one thing: I'm not alone anymore. Not unless I choose to be.

The Return and Confrontation

BRIAR

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