The scream tore through the night like a blade, sharp and wrong. Not from pain. Not from fear. From magic. Raw. Uncontrolled. Ancient.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He shifted into a run, his bare feet silent on the snow-dusted stone, blood still slick on his side. I followed, the wolf-fur cloak flapping behind me, my boots crunching in the frost. The bond between us pulsed—hot, urgent, alive—guiding me, tethering me to him. I didn’t need to see the stronghold to know where the scream had come from. I could feel it in my blood, in my bones. The Archives. The same place where I’d found the book. Where I’d seen the truth.
And now—
Something was happening.
We reached the stronghold’s inner gate in minutes, guards snapping to attention as Kaelen passed, their eyes wide at the sight of him—naked, wounded, feral. But no one stopped us. No one dared. He was Alpha. And I—
I was his.
The bond-mark on my neck throbbed with every heartbeat, a constant reminder. Mine. Claimed. Bound.
We burst into the Archives, the heavy stone door swinging open with a groan. The chamber was dim, lit only by flickering sconces and the cold glow of moonlight through the high windows. Dust hung in the air, undisturbed—except for one corner.
The pedestal.
The book—the one with my mother’s handwriting, the one that had shown me the truth—was open, pages fluttering as if caught in an invisible wind. And above it—
A sigil.
Not drawn. Not carved.
Hovering.
Crackling with crimson energy, pulsing like a heartbeat. The same sigil from my locket. From Kaelen’s wrist. From the Contract itself.
And in front of it—
Riven.
He stood frozen, his hand outstretched, his dark vampire eyes wide with shock. His fingers were inches from the sigil, his body rigid, his breath shallow.
“Riven!” Kaelen barked, rushing forward.
But Riven didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the sigil, transfixed.
I stepped closer, my pulse hammering. The air was thick with magic, humming against my skin like static. The sigil pulsed—and then, without warning, it lashed out.
A whip of energy snapped forward, wrapping around my wrist—the one that had borne the chain. I gasped as heat flared, searing, deep. The bond responded, a jolt of connection so strong it nearly dropped me to my knees.
And then—
Darkness.
Not sleep.
Transfer.
I wasn’t in the Archives anymore.
I was—
Elsewhere.
The world reformed around me—stone walls, flickering torchlight, the scent of old parchment and blood. I stood in the same chamber, but different. Older. Colder. And in the center—
The Contract.
But not as I’d seen it in the visions.
It was alive.
The parchment pulsed like a heart, veins of silver and black writhing beneath the surface. Words shifted, rearranged, breathed. And on the pedestal—
My mother.
She was younger here. Stronger. Her hair dark, her eyes blazing with power. She stood over the Contract, her hands pressed to the parchment, blood dripping from her palms. Her lips moved—chanting, whispering, binding.
And beside her—
Kaelen.
Younger. Harder. His golden eyes blazing with fury, a dagger at his throat. Cassian behind him, hand on the hilt. The same scene from the blood memory.
But this time—
I could feel it.
Not just see.
Feel the weight of the blade. The desperation in Kaelen’s chest. The cold calculation in Cassian’s gaze. And my mother—
Her magic.
It wasn’t just power.
It was love.
Love twisted into a curse. Love forged into a weapon. Love buried beneath centuries of lies.
And then—
She looked up.
Not at Kaelen.
Not at Cassian.
At me.
Her eyes locked onto mine—across time, across death, across the veil—and she smiled.
“You found it,” she whispered. “You found the key.”
“Mom—” I reached for her, but my hand passed through her like smoke.
“The Contract isn’t just a prison,” she said, her voice echoing, layered with magic. “It’s a test. A trial of love. And only love can break it.”
“But I don’t know how—”
“You already do,” she said. “You’ve already chosen. You’ve already claimed him. Now you must see.”
And then—
The vision shifted.
Not memory.
Future.
I stood in the Council Chamber, but it was in ruins. The chandeliers shattered. The marble cracked. And in the center—
Kaelen.
He was on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth, his golden eyes dim. Cassian stood over him, a dagger in hand, the Contract glowing in the air above them. And beside me—
Me.
Another version of me—cold, furious, her eyes black with magic. She raised her hand, a sigil flaring to life, and spoke.
“You signed it,” she said, voice hollow. “You enslaved my mother. You destroyed my bloodline. And now—”
She stepped forward, the dagger in her hand—Kaelen’s dagger, the one with the wolf sigil.
“Now you die.”
And then—
She drove it into his heart.
He gasped. Fell. Blood pooled beneath him.
And the Contract—
It laughed.
A sound like tearing parchment, like breaking chains, like a century of lies finally winning.
I screamed—
And then—
I was back.
The Archives. The sigil. Riven still frozen. Kaelen kneeling beside me, his hands on my shoulders, his voice rough with fear.
“Blair. Blair.”
I gasped, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears. My skin burned. My magic crackled beneath the surface, wild, uncontrolled.
“I saw it,” I whispered. “I saw what happens if I don’t choose love.”
Kaelen’s grip tightened. “What did you see?”
“Me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Another version of me. I killed you. I drove the dagger into your heart. And the Contract—” I shuddered. “—it won.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said, voice rough. “Because you’re not that woman. You’re not vengeance. You’re not hate. You’re—”
“I’m afraid,” I whispered, my fingers clutching his arms. “I’m afraid I’ll lose myself. That I’ll become what they made me—what the Contract wants me to be. A destroyer. A killer. A monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You’re the only one who’s ever seen me as a man. The only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m worth saving.”
My breath caught.
And then—
Riven gasped.
He stumbled back, his hand flying to his chest, his eyes wide. “I—” He looked at me. “I saw it too.”
Kaelen turned. “What?”
“The vision,” Riven said, voice strained. “It pulled me in. I saw her—your mother. I heard her. She said… she said the Contract was never meant to control hybrids.”
My pulse spiked. “Then what was it for?”
“To protect them,” Riven said. “To hide them. To keep them safe from those who would exploit their magic. But Cassian twisted it. Used it to enslave. And now—” He looked at Kaelen. “—it’s trying to complete its original purpose. Through you two.”
“By making us mates,” I said.
“Not just mates,” Riven said. “True mates. Bonded in truth, in love, in sacrifice. Only then can the Contract be rewritten. Only then can the prison be broken.”
Silence.
Kaelen looked at me. His golden eyes held something I hadn’t seen before.
Not just desire.
Not just need.
Hope.
“Then we do it,” he said. “We go back in. Together.”
My breath caught. “It’s dangerous. The vision—it’s not just a memory. It’s a test. A trap. If we’re not strong enough—”
“Then we’ll be stronger,” he said, standing, pulling me with him. “We’ve already faced the Contract. We’ve already defied Cassian. We’ve already claimed each other.” He reached for my hand, our fingers intertwining. “Now we face the truth. Together.”
I looked at him—really looked at him. The man who had signed the Contract under duress. The Alpha who had saved his enforcer. The predator who had kissed me like I was the only thing worth hunting.
And I realized—
I didn’t just want to save him.
I wanted to see him.
Not just as my mate.
But as my equal.
“Then let’s do it,” I said.
—
We sat across from each other on the floor, the sigil still hovering above the pedestal, pulsing with crimson light. Riven stood back, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. But his presence was a comfort. A witness. A reminder that we weren’t alone.
“Our blood,” I said, voice low. “Our bond. Our truth.”
Kaelen nodded. We pressed our palms together, our blood mingling, the air between us shimmering. I closed my eyes and began to chant—words in a language I didn’t know, ancient, guttural, pulled from some deep well inside me.
The sigil flared.
The room blurred.
And then—
Transfer.
This time, we went in together.
The chamber reformed—same stone, same torchlight, same cold. But now, we stood side by side, our hands still clasped. And in the center—
The Contract.
But it wasn’t just parchment anymore.
It was alive.
The silver veins pulsed, the black ink shifted, and then—
It spoke.
Not with sound.
With thought.
“You have returned,” it whispered, the voice layered, ancient, hungry. “The challenger and the signatory. The destroyer and the bound.”
“We’re not here to destroy,” I said, voice steady. “We’re here to see. To know.”
“To claim,” it corrected. “To fulfill. To break.”
“Then show us,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. “Show us the truth.”
The Contract pulsed.
And then—
Memory.
Not just mine.
Not just his.
Ours.
My mother, kneeling before the Contract, blood on her hands. But this time, we saw what she saw. Felt what she felt. The weight of her magic. The depth of her love. The certainty of her choice.
“I bind you,” she whispered, pressing her blood to the parchment. “Not in hate. Not in vengeance. But in love. In hope. In truth.”
And then—
She looked at us.
Across time. Across death. Across the veil.
“You are not enemies,” she said. “You are not prisoner and captor. You are not destroyer and savior.” Her voice echoed, layered with magic. “You are two halves of the same soul. And only together can you break the chains.”
The vision shifted.
Not past.
Not future.
Now.
We stood in the Archives, but it was different. Brighter. Warmer. The sigil above the pedestal wasn’t crimson.
It was gold.
And around us—
People.
Wolves. Fae. Vampires. Witches. Standing together. Not as enemies. Not as rivals. As allies.
And in the center—
Us.
Kaelen and me. Hand in hand. Marked. Claimed. Equal.
“This is what could be,” my mother’s voice whispered. “If you choose love. If you choose each other. If you choose truth.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from pain.
From the unbearable weight of being seen.
“I don’t want to destroy you,” I whispered, turning to Kaelen. “I never did.”
He looked at me—golden eyes blazing, fierce, alive. “Then don’t,” he said. “Choose me. Not as your enemy. Not as your jailer. As your partner.”
And then—
We kissed.
Not hard. Not desperate.
Soft. Slow. Aching.
Our lips met, gentle, searching. One hand cupped my jaw, the other gripped my wrist, the one that had borne the chain. The bond pulsed—hot, heavy, alive.
And the Contract—
It screamed.
A sound like tearing parchment, like breaking chains, like a century of lies collapsing in on themselves.
We broke apart.
The vision faded.
And we were back.
The Archives. The sigil. Riven watching, silent, still.
But something had changed.
The Contract on the pedestal—
It was blank.
No words. No ink. No silver veins.
Just empty parchment.
And the sigil above it—
It wasn’t crimson anymore.
It was gold.
“It’s done,” I whispered.
Kaelen looked at me, his chest rising and falling fast. “The Contract—”
“It’s broken,” I said. “Not destroyed. Transformed.”
He reached for me, pulling me into his arms. “Then what now?”
I looked up at him—really looked at him. The man who had been my enemy. My captor. My jailer.
And now?
Now he was my mate.
And I—
I was his.
“Now,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest, over his heart, “we build something new.”
He didn’t speak.
Just kissed me.
And as the bond pulsed between us—hot, heavy, alive—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.