The stronghold was quiet after Cassian’s retreat, but it wasn’t the calm of peace—it was the stillness before the storm. The wolves moved through the halls with a new purpose, their eyes sharp, their steps careful. They had seen the truth. They had felt the bond. They had watched me break Cassian with nothing but a growl and a grip. And now, they followed—not because I commanded them, but because they *believed* in us.
But I didn’t feel like a leader.
I felt like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling at his back, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.
Because Blair had chosen me.
Not out of duty.
Not out of strategy.
Because of love.
And I—
I didn’t know how to hold it.
Not without breaking it.
Elara was weak, her body still poisoned from the cuffs, her magic drained. Blair carried her to the infirmary herself, refusing help, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing. I followed, silent, watching the way her fingers trembled as she laid Elara on the cot, the way her breath hitched when the old witch winced in pain.
“She needs blood magic,” Elara said, her voice weak. “To purge the venom. To restore her strength.”
Blair didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll give it.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “It’s too dangerous. The venom’s still in her system. If your magic clashes—”
“I don’t care,” she snapped, turning to me. “I won’t let her suffer. Not after what Cassian did. Not after what *you*—”
She stopped.
But I heard it.
The unspoken word.
Allowed.
And she was right.
I had let Cassian take her.
I had let him use her.
I had stood by while he twisted her pain into a weapon.
And now, Blair was going to risk herself to fix it.
“Then I’ll help,” I said, stepping closer. “The ritual requires skin contact. Sustained. And if she collapses—”
“You’ll catch her,” she said, her voice softening. “I know.”
She didn’t look at me.
Just pulled a knife from her belt and sliced her palm open.
Blood welled—crimson, rich, *alive*—and she pressed her hand to Elara’s chest, just above her heart. The moment the blood touched skin, the air in the chamber *crackled*. The runes on the walls flared blue, pulsing with ancient magic. Elara gasped, her body arching off the cot, her fingers clutching the sheets.
“It’s working,” she said, voice strained. “Keep going.”
Blair’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her face paled. Her knees trembled. I stepped in, catching her before she fell, my arms wrapping around her waist, my chest to her back. She didn’t pull away. Just leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder, her blood still flowing, still healing.
“You’re losing too much,” I said, my voice rough. “Stop. Let me—”
“No,” she whispered. “She’s not done. The venom’s still in her veins. I can *feel* it.”
I tightened my grip, my fangs aching, my wolf rising. The scent of her blood—storm and iron—wrapped around me, thick, intoxicating. The bond pulsed beneath my skin, hot, heavy, *alive*. And beneath it—
Something else.
Fear.
Not for Elara.
For *her*.
Because if she kept this up, she’d collapse. If her magic failed, the backlash could kill her. And if she died—
I wouldn’t survive it.
“Blair,” I said, my voice breaking. “You have to stop.”
She turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto mine. “And if I do, she dies. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I said, my chest tight. “But I can’t lose you.”
Her breath caught.
And then—
She kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Desperate.
Her mouth crashed onto mine, hot, demanding, possessive. Blood smeared between us, warm, slick. Her free hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head down. The bond *screamed*, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper—something *primal*. The runes on the walls flared brighter, the magic rising, swirling around us like a storm.
And then—
Elara gasped.
We broke apart.
She was sitting up, her eyes wide, her skin no longer pale, but glowing with health. The venom was gone. Her magic was restored. And she was *smiling*.
“It worked,” she said, her voice strong. “The blood magic—it’s pure. Unbroken. And the bond—” She looked at us, her gaze sharp, knowing. “—it’s stronger than ever.”
Blair sagged against me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I caught her, lifting her into my arms, her blood still dripping from her palm. She didn’t protest. Just curled into my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt, her body trembling.
“You reckless, brilliant woman,” I said, my voice rough. “You could’ve died.”
“But I didn’t,” she whispered. “Because you were here.”
I carried her to the cot, laying her down gently. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing slow, steady. The cut on her palm was already healing, the flesh knitting closed. But she was weak. Drained. And I—
I couldn’t leave her.
“I’ll watch her,” Elara said, sitting up. “Go. Attend to your pack. The Council’s summons is in two days. You need to be ready.”
“I’m not leaving her,” I said, sitting beside the cot, my hand covering hers.
Elara studied me—her gaze sharp, assessing. Then she nodded. “Good. She needs you. Not just as her mate. As her *anchor*.”
“I don’t know how to be that,” I said, my voice low. “I’ve spent my life controlling. Commanding. Protecting. But this—” I looked at Blair, her face peaceful in sleep. “—this is different. I don’t know how to hold her without breaking her.”
Elara didn’t answer.
Just reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small vial—clear glass, filled with liquid silver. The same sigil glowed on its surface—crimson, pulsing, *alive*.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A memory,” she said. “From your past. From the night you signed the Contract.”
My spine went rigid.
“I didn’t think anyone had proof,” I said, my voice tight.
“Your proof was taken,” she said. “But mine wasn’t. I hid it. For her.” She held out the vial. “When she wakes, give it to her. Let her see the truth. Not just of the Contract. Of *you*.”
I took the vial, the glass cool in my palm. “Why now?”
“Because she’s starting to trust you,” Elara said. “But trust isn’t enough. She needs to *know* you. To see the man behind the Alpha. And you—” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “—you need to let her.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stared at the vial, the sigil pulsing like a heartbeat.
And then—
Blair stirred.
Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched. Her dark eyes fluttered open, dazed, unfocused. I leaned over her, my hand cupping her jaw. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
She blinked up at me, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Told you I’d be fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I said, my voice rough. “You’re reckless. You’re stubborn. You’re *mine*.”
Her smile widened. “And you love me anyway.”
My chest tightened.
Because I did.
Not just because of the bond.
Not just because of the magic.
Because she was *Blair*. The woman who had walked into the Fae High Court with nothing but a forged name and a hunger for vengeance. The woman who had looked at me and seen a man, not a monster. The woman who had kissed me like I was the only thing worth saving.
And I—
I was hers.
Completely.
“I do,” I said, my voice breaking. “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything.”
Her breath caught.
And then—
She reached up, her fingers brushing the mark on my neck—the one she’d left when she’d bitten me during the fight in the training yard. It was faint, already healing. But it was there.
“You still have it,” she whispered.
“I didn’t let it heal,” I said. “I kept it. As a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“Of the first time you didn’t fight me,” I said. “The first time you took what you wanted.”
Her breath hitched.
And then—
She kissed me.
Not hard. Not desperate.
Soft. Slow. Aching.
Her lips moved against mine, gentle, searching. One hand cupped my jaw, her thumb brushing my cheek. The other gripped my wrist, the one that had borne the chain.
And the chain—
It pulsed.
Not with magic.
With connection.
I pulled her closer, my arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her slightly. Her legs wrapped around my hips, her body pressing into mine. The kiss deepened, our tongues meeting, slow and sweet and real.
And then—
Elara cleared her throat.
We broke apart.
She was watching us, her silver eyes sharp, her lips curved into a faint smile. “As touching as this is, you two have work to do. The Council’s summons is in two days. You need to be ready.”
Blair groaned, burying her face in my chest. “Do we have to?”
“Yes,” I said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “We have to face them. Not just for the pack. For the truth.”
She sighed. “And how do we do that? With declarations? With fights? With another public kiss?”
“With proof,” I said, reaching into my coat and pulling out the vial. “Elara gave me this. It’s a memory. From the night I signed the Contract.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re going to show it to me?”
“I *want* to show it to you,” I said. “Not because I have to. Because I trust you. Because you deserve to know the truth.”
She didn’t answer.
Just held out her hand.
I uncorked the vial and poured a single drop of silver liquid onto her palm. The moment it touched her skin, the air in the chamber *crackled*. The runes on the walls flared blue, pulsing with ancient magic. Blair gasped, her body arching off the cot, her fingers clutching mine.
And then—
Memory.
Not hers.
Mine.
The Fae High Court. The same marble, the same chandeliers. But colder. Older. And in the center—
Me.
Younger. Bound. Bleeding. My golden eyes blazing with fury. Cassian stood over me, a dagger at my throat, his voice smooth, final.
“Sign,” he said. “Or your pack dies.”
I didn’t flinch. “You kill them, I’ll burn your court to ash.”
“And in doing so, you’ll break the truce,” he said. “Start a war. And your wolves will die screaming.” He pressed the dagger harder. “Sign. Or watch them burn.”
I looked at the Contract. The quill. The blood.
And then—
I signed.
Not because I wanted to.
Not because I believed in it.
Because I had no choice.
The vision faded.
Blair gasped, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with tears. “You didn’t sign it willingly.”
“No,” I said, my voice rough. “I signed it to save my pack. To stop a war. And I’ve spent every day since hating myself for it.”
She didn’t speak.
Just pulled me into her arms, holding me like I was the only thing keeping her alive.
“You’re not a monster,” she whispered. “You’re not a traitor. You’re a man who made an impossible choice. And I—” Her voice broke. “—I love you for it.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I kissed her.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Violent.
My hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. My mouth crashed onto hers, hot, demanding, possessive. A growl rumbled in my chest, vibrating through my bones. The bond between us burned, a pulse of heat, of magic, of something deeper.
And the infirmary—
It went silent.
When I pulled back, my lips were wet with her blood. My eyes glowed gold. My chest rose and fell fast.
“You don’t get to say that,” I said, my voice raw. “You don’t get to love me like I’m worth saving.”
“Why not?” she whispered.
“Because I’m not,” I said. “I signed the Contract. I let them enslave your mother. I let them erase your bloodline. And I—” My voice broke. “—I don’t deserve you.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just reached up, her fingers brushing the mark on my neck. “You kept this. You kept my bite. You kept the one thing that proves I chose you. Not because of duty. Not because of magic. Because I *wanted* to.”
My breath caught.
“So don’t tell me you don’t deserve me,” she said, her voice fierce. “You *do*. Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re the Alpha. Because you’re *mine*. And I’m yours. And that’s all that matters.”
I didn’t speak.
Just pulled her into my arms, holding her like I’d never let go.
And as the runes on the walls pulsed, the bond humming between us—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our story?
That was just beginning.