The world reformed in a burst of golden light—no longer the sterile silence of the Lost Archives, but the cold, gilded opulence of the Fae High Court. Marble floors stretched beneath us, veined with silver like frozen lightning. Chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling painted with celestial battles, their crystals catching the light in fractured rainbows. The air smelled of old parchment, ozone, and something deeper—betrayal.
We weren’t just *seeing* the past.
We were *in* it.
Kaelen stood beside me, his presence solid, his hand gripping mine. The bond pulsed between us, warm and steady, a lifeline in the shifting illusion. His golden eyes scanned the chamber, alert, feral. “This isn’t memory,” he murmured. “It’s a trap.”
“It’s both,” I said, my voice low. “The blood pact doesn’t just show truth. It tests it. And it’s testing *us*.”
And then—
We saw *him*.
Cassian.
He stood at the center of the chamber, robed in black and silver, his long silver hair gleaming under the chandeliers. But this wasn’t the Cassian I knew—the smug manipulator, the silver-tongued liar. This was something older. Darker. His eyes glowed with a cold, unnatural light, and in his hands, he held the Contract—not as parchment, but as a living, writhing thing of shadow and silver thread.
And kneeling before him—
Me.
Not me.
Another version. Cloaked in black, her face shadowed, her hands bound in chains of pure fae glamour. Her voice, when she spoke, was hollow, stripped of warmth, of humanity.
“You promised,” she said, voice trembling with rage. “You said if I destroyed him, the Contract would release my bloodline. That my family would be restored.”
Cassian smiled. “And so it shall. But first, you must fulfill your end. The Alpha must die. By *your* hand. Not in battle. Not in justice. In *vengeance*.”
“I came here to break the Contract,” she said. “Not to become your weapon.”
“You already are,” he said, stepping closer. “You always were. The Contract doesn’t just bind bodies. It feeds on hate. On pain. On the desire to destroy. And you—” He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. “—you are *perfect*.”
My stomach twisted.
Because I knew that hunger. That rage. That voice whispering in the dark: *Destroy him. Break them all. Let the world burn.*
It was still in me.
And if I wasn’t careful, it would consume everything.
Kaelen squeezed my hand. “Don’t look away,” he said, voice rough. “You have to see it. The choice. The cost.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, pulling him with me.
The illusion shifted—like smoke, like shadow—and suddenly, we were in the Blood Cells beneath the Court. Stone walls. Iron bars. The scent of rust and fear. And in the center—
Kaelen.
Bound. Bleeding. His golden eyes dim with pain. And Cassian, standing over him, a dagger in hand—my mother’s dagger, the one with the crescent moon sigil.
“You signed it,” Cassian hissed. “You let them enslave her. You let them erase her. And for what? A few more years of peace?”
Kaelen didn’t flinch. “I did it to protect my pack. To stop a war.”
“And now,” Cassian said, “you’ll die for it.”
He raised the dagger.
And then—
I stepped in.
Not the other me.
Me.
Blair. The woman who had kissed him in the baths. Who had claimed him in the audience chamber. Who had looked into his eyes and whispered, *“I want you.”*
I knocked the dagger from Cassian’s hand, the blade clattering across the stone. He snarled, turning to me, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You don’t belong here,” he spat. “This is *her* moment. Her vengeance. Her destiny.”
“No,” I said, stepping in front of Kaelen, shielding him with my body. “My destiny isn’t destruction. It’s *choice*.”
“Choice?” he laughed. “You think love is choice? You think *mercy* is strength? Look at him.” He gestured to Kaelen, slumped against the wall. “He signed the Contract. He bound himself to me. He let your mother die. And you—” His voice dropped to a whisper. “—you’re going to save him?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “Because I’m not you. I’m not vengeance. I’m not hate. I’m *love*. And that’s the one thing you’ll never understand.”
He lunged.
But before he could reach me, the illusion shattered.
—
I gasped, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears. The Lost Archives snapped back into focus—floating books, pulsing runes, the vial between us, now dark, drained. Kaelen was beside me, his hands on my shoulders, his voice rough with fear.
“Blair. Blair.”
I turned to him, my fingers clutching his arms. “I saw it. I saw what he wants. He’s not just trying to break the bond. He’s trying to turn me into *him*. A weapon. A destroyer. A slave to hate.”
Kaelen didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
“You’re not him,” he said, voice rough. “You’re not hate. You’re not vengeance. You’re *truth*. And that’s why he’s afraid of you.”
I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his scent—pine, smoke, wild earth—anchoring myself in the real. The bond pulsed beneath my skin, steady, deep, alive. The mark on my neck throbbed faintly, a constant reminder. Mine. Claimed. Bound.
And then—
It burned.
I gasped, pulling back. The mark on my neck flared crimson, hot as fire. The bond between us twisted, not with desire, but with pain—sharp, sudden, wrong.
Kaelen growled, his golden eyes blazing. “The bond’s under attack.”
“Cassian,” I said, my voice tight. “He’s not waiting. He’s already moving.”
—
We left the Archives in a blur of motion, the door groaning shut behind us, the sigils sealing once more. The stronghold was quiet—too quiet. No wolves in the corridors. No voices in the halls. Just silence, thick and suffocating.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, my hand on the dagger at my belt.
“The Moon Festival,” Kaelen said, his voice low. “They’re still gathered in the courtyard. But something’s wrong.”
And then—
We heard it.
A scream.
High-pitched. Terrified.
From the courtyard.
We ran.
Down the winding stone stairs, through the torch-lit corridors, the bond between us tugging with every step. The scream came again—cut off abruptly. And then—
Laughter.
Smooth. Cold. Familiar.
Cassian.
We burst into the courtyard—and froze.
The bonfires were out. The drums were silent. The pack stood in a tight circle, their heads bowed, their claws retracted, their fangs hidden. And in the center—
Cassian.
He stood beside a stone pedestal, his hand resting on a silver cage. Inside—
Elara.
Her silver hair was matted with blood. Her wrists were bound in silver cuffs that hissed against her skin. But her eyes—sharp, defiant—locked onto mine the moment I stepped forward.
“You came,” she said, voice weak but steady.
“Of course I came,” I said, stepping forward, my fingers tightening on my dagger. “I thought you were safe.”
“I was,” she said. “Until he ambushed me in the infirmary. Knocked out Riven. Took me before anyone could react.”
My blood ran cold.
Riven.
Was he alive?
Cassian smiled. “You should thank me, Blair. I’ve given you a gift.”
“A gift?” I spat. “You kidnapped my mentor. You violated the Stronghold. You—”
“I’ve given you a *choice*,” he said, stepping forward. “One final chance to do the right thing.”
“And what’s that?” Kaelen growled, stepping in front of me, his presence a wall of muscle and fury.
“Break the bond,” Cassian said. “Sever it. Let the Contract rewrite itself. Return to the way things were.”
“Never,” I said.
“Then she dies,” he said, pressing a finger to the cage. The silver flared, and Elara screamed, her body convulsing as the venom burned through her.
“Stop it!” I shouted, lunging forward.
Kaelen grabbed my arm, holding me back. “It’s a trap,” he said, voice low. “He wants you to break the bond. He wants you to destroy us.”
“I don’t care,” I said, my voice breaking. “I won’t let him hurt her.”
Cassian smiled. “Then choose. Her life. Or your love.”
And then—
Elara spoke.
Weak. Faint. But clear.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t give in. Don’t let him win.”
“Elara—”
“Listen to me,” she said, her voice stronger now. “The bond isn’t just magic. It’s *truth*. And truth is worth any cost.”
Cassian snarled, pressing his hand to the cage again.
Elara screamed.
And I—
I stepped forward.
Not to attack.
Not to beg.
To claim.
I turned to Kaelen, my dark eyes locking onto his golden ones. “I choose you,” I said, voice steady. “Not because of the bond. Not because of magic. Because of *love*.”
And then—
I kissed him.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Violent.
My hands fisted in his hair, yanking his head down. My mouth crashed onto his, hot, demanding, possessive. A growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating through my bones. The bond between us burned, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper—something primal.
And the courtyard—
It erupted.
The wolves roared—approval, loyalty, truth. The silver cage cracked. The sigils on Cassian’s robes flared—and then splintered.
He screamed.
Not from pain.
From fear.
Because he saw it.
The bond wasn’t just unbroken.
It was stronger.
And then—
Kaelen pulled back, his lips wet with my blood. His eyes glowed gold. His chest rose and fell fast.
“You want a choice?” he said, stepping toward Cassian. “Here’s mine.”
He lunged.
Not for the cage.
For him.
His hand closed around Cassian’s throat, slamming him against the stone pedestal. The cage shattered. Elara collapsed to the ground, the cuffs dissolving into ash.
“You’re done,” Kaelen growled. “No more games. No more lies. The Contract is broken. And if you come near her again—”
“You’ll what?” Cassian choked. “Kill me? You can’t. I’m Council.”
“Then I’ll exile you,” Kaelen said. “And if you ever return, I’ll rip your heart out myself.”
He dropped him.
Cassian stumbled back, his eyes filled with hate.
But he didn’t fight.
Because he knew.
The game was over.
I rushed to Elara, dropping to my knees beside her. “I’ve got you,” I whispered, working at the cuffs. “I’ve got you.”
She winced as the silver burned her wrists. “You didn’t give in,” she said, voice weak. “You chose love.”
“I chose truth,” I said. “And truth is stronger than fear.”
She smiled. “Then it’s working. The Contract—it’s not just broken. It’s *transformed*.”
Kaelen stepped beside me, his hand warm on the small of my back. “We should go,” he said. “Before he brings reinforcements.”
I nodded, helping Elara to her feet. “Where?”
“Home,” he said. “My pack. My den. My life.” He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “If you want it.”
I smiled. “I want it.”
And as we walked out of the courtyard, the bond between us stronger than ever—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.