The North Quarter doesn’t sleep. Not really. Even at this hour, when the fog clings low to the cobbled streets and the torches flicker like dying stars, the city hums—low, restless, hungry. The vampires are awake, moving through the shadows with that unnatural grace, their fangs bared in smiles that aren’t smiles. The werewolves pace the borders, their eyes glowing amber in the dark, heat cycles still humming beneath their skin from the Blood Moon. Witches chant in hidden rooms, sigils flaring with blood and breath. And the fae—oh, the fae—they watch from arches and alleyways, their glamour shifting, their laughter like glass breaking.
And me?
I’m standing in the Undercourt’s east wing, arms crossed, back to the stone wall, watching the only two people in this cursed city who might actually change it.
Blair and Kaelen.
They’re not touching. Not speaking. But they don’t need to. The bond hums between them—low, steady, a thread of red magic only I can see, pulsing with every breath, every heartbeat. It’s different now. Not the violent surge of before, not the desperate clash of wills. It’s… calm. Like a river that’s finally found its course.
And it terrifies me.
Because I’ve seen what happens when vampires love. When they *need*. It doesn’t end in ballrooms or whispered promises. It ends in blood. In fire. In bodies piled high in the snow.
And Kaelen?
He’s not just any vampire.
He’s the last heir of the D’Vaire line. The Lord of the North Quarter. A man who’s spent centuries building walls so high even I couldn’t scale them. And now?
Now he’s letting her in.
And she’s letting him.
I press my palm to the hilt of my blade. My golden eyes scan the corridor—empty, for now. But I feel it. The shift. The tension. The way the air thickens when power is about to collide.
“They’re coming,” I say, voice low.
Kaelen doesn’t turn. Just watches Blair, his black eyes burning into hers. “Who?”
“The Ironclaw Coalition. The Alpha’s demanding an audience. Says Blair’s presence is ‘disturbing the peace.’”
Blair snorts. “Let him try to take me.”
“You don’t know him,” I say. “Garrick Ironclaw doesn’t make idle threats. He’s old. Ruthless. And he doesn’t like witches. Thinks they’re unstable. Dangerous.”
“And vampires?” she asks, lifting her chin. “What does he think of them?”
“Parasites,” I say. “Unnatural. Feeding on the weak.”
Kaelen finally turns. His coat is open, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone, the faint pulse beneath his skin. But it’s not the predator I see. Not the monster who fed on a traitor in the open.
It’s the man.
The one who flinched when she slapped him. The one who let her touch his face. The one who carried her to a hidden chamber and made love to her like it was the first time he’d ever done it right.
And for the first time, I wonder if he’s stronger than I thought.
“Let him come,” Kaelen says, voice low. “I’ll remind him who rules the night.”
“You won’t have to,” I say. “He’s already here.”
The doors at the end of the hall burst open.
And Garrick Ironclaw walks in.
He’s not alone. Five Betas flank him—massive, furred, eyes glowing with the heat of the moon. Their claws are out. Their breath steams in the cold air. And their scents—wolf, blood, dominance—roll through the corridor like a storm.
Garrick himself is a wall of muscle and fur, his silver hair tied back, his face scarred from a hundred battles. His eyes—amber, unblinking—lock onto Blair the moment he sees her.
“You,” he growls. “The witch who’s been stirring up trouble.”
Blair doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t step back. Just lifts her chin, her green eyes sharp, her magic coiled beneath her skin like a serpent ready to strike. “And you’re the wolf who’s been barking from a distance. Finally decided to show your teeth?”
The Betas snarl. One takes a step forward.
I move fast—vampire speed, a blur of black coat and bared fangs. I step between them, my blade drawn, my voice low. “That’s close enough.”
Garrick doesn’t look at me. Just keeps his eyes on Blair. “You’ve disrupted the balance. The bond between you and the vampire—it’s weakening the wards. The collapses, the magic surges, the Blood Moon instability—it’s all because of *you*.”
“Or maybe,” she says, stepping forward, “it’s because your precious balance is built on lies. On blood pacts. On women like my mother, bound against their will, used until they break.”
“We don’t deal in vampire sins,” Garrick snaps. “We deal in consequences. And the consequence of your presence is chaos.”
“Then leave,” she says. “If you’re so afraid of chaos, walk away. Go back to your forests. Your packs. Your *simplicity*.”
He growls—a deep, guttural sound that shakes the stone. “You think I’m afraid? I’ve torn out the throats of men twice your size. I’ve faced down werewolf kings and vampire lords. And I’ll *end* you if you threaten the peace again.”
“She’s under my protection,” Kaelen says, stepping beside her. His voice is low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Try to take her. I dare you.”
Garrick turns to him. “You think this bond makes you strong? It makes you *weak*. A vampire tied to a witch? A lord bound by magic he can’t control? You’re not a ruler. You’re a *joke*.”
Kaelen doesn’t react. Just watches him, his black eyes endless, his presence a wall of cold, controlled power. “And you’re not a king. You’re a bully. And bullies don’t last long in my city.”
“Your city?” Garrick laughs. A sharp, broken sound. “This is *neutral* ground. The Undercourt belongs to all species. Not just your kind.”
“And yet,” Kaelen says, stepping closer, “you’re the one who came here. You’re the one making demands. You’re the one threatening *my* woman.”
“She’s not yours.”
“No,” Kaelen says. “She’s *hers*. But she’s chosen me. And I won’t let you take her.”
“Then you’ll die with her.”
“Maybe.” Kaelen’s fangs extend. “But I’ll take you with me.”
The Betas lunge.
I move fast—my blade flashing, my body a blur. I take one down with a slash to the throat, another with a kick to the ribs. Blair doesn’t hesitate—her magic flares, wild and uncontrolled, a wave of red energy slamming into the third Beta, sending him crashing into the wall. The fourth goes for Kaelen, but he’s faster—vampire speed, a blur of black coat and bared fangs. He snaps the wolf’s neck with a single twist.
And then—
Stillness.
Four Betas on the ground. One dead. Three groaning. Garrick standing over them, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing.
And Blair.
She’s not afraid. Not trembling. Not backing down.
She’s *alive*.
Her magic hums beneath her skin, coiled tight, ready to strike. Her green eyes burn with fire. Her body is tense, but not with fear—with *power*.
And Kaelen?
He’s watching her. Not the Alpha. Not the threat.
Her.
Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.
“You see now?” I say, stepping beside Kaelen. “She’s not a liability. She’s a force. And if you try to take her again, we won’t stop at four.”
Garrick doesn’t answer. Just looks at Blair. And for the first time, I see it—*respect*. Not fear. Not hatred. But the grudging acknowledgment of a warrior.
“You’re strong,” he says, voice low. “Stronger than I expected.”
“And you’re predictable,” she says. “Come here with threats. Leave with bodies. Is that how you solve everything?”
He doesn’t flinch. Just turns to Kaelen. “This isn’t over.”
“No,” Kaelen says. “It’s just beginning.”
Garrick grabs the surviving Betas and drags them out, their boots scraping on the stone, their groans fading into the fog.
Silence.
And then—
Blair turns to me. “You didn’t have to fight for me.”
“I wanted to,” I say. “You’re not just his. You’re *ours*. And I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She almost smiles. “You’re a good Beta.”
“I’m not just a Beta,” I say. “I’m a friend.”
Kaelen steps closer. His hand finds hers beneath the cloak, fingers threading through hers. The bond screams—a surge of heat, of scent, of need. I look away. Give them a moment.
But I feel it.
The shift.
The way the air changes when two people stop fighting and start choosing each other.
“You were magnificent,” Kaelen says, voice rough. “Facing him. Fighting for us.”
“I wasn’t fighting for *us*,” she says. “I was fighting for *me*.”
“Same thing.” He leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “You’re not just mine. I’m yours.”
My breath catches.
And then—
She kisses him.
Not violently. Not angrily.
Softly.
Like a promise.
Like a beginning.
The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied.
Like a promise.
Like a curse.
Like the beginning of something neither of us can stop.
And I—
I stand watch.
Because someone has to.
Because the world doesn’t stop just because two people finally see each other.
And because I know—
Garrick Ironclaw won’t be the last to come for her.
Malrik is still out there.
Lira is still alive.
And the final vote looms—seven days away.
But for now?
For now, they have this.
A moment.
A breath.
A choice.
And I’ll protect it.
With my life.
The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied.
Like a promise.
Like a curse.
Like the beginning of something neither of us can stop.