The Book of Bonds didn’t sleep.
It pulsed.
Even now, as I sat in the archives beneath the stronghold, the silver cover throbbed against my palms like a second heart—slow, steady, alive. The runes flared with a soft, white light, not in response to magic, but to memory. It remembered what I’d done. What I’d become. The first judgment. The first execution of the law. And now, it waited. Not for blood. Not for vengeance. For truth.
I hadn’t slept.
Not really.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lord Vaelen on his knees, stripped of his sigils, his title, his magic—not by my hand, but by the Book itself. He hadn’t been killed. He hadn’t been imprisoned. He’d been unmade. Reduced to nothing but a man, trembling in the silence of his own guilt. And when he wept—those raw, broken sobs echoing through the chamber—I hadn’t felt triumph.
I’d felt… hollow.
Because justice wasn’t supposed to leave you empty.
It was supposed to fill you. To make you stronger. To make you sure.
But all I felt was doubt.
Had I done the right thing? Had I been mercy or cruelty in disguise? Had I become the very thing I’d sworn to destroy—someone who wielded power not to heal, but to break?
“You’re thinking again,” a voice said from the doorway.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t need to.
Kaelen’s scent hit me first—wolf, fire, something darker, something his—before his boots even touched the stone. Then his warmth, pressing against my back as he stepped behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chest to my spine. His breath was hot on my neck, his lips brushing the mark he’d left during the Mating Moon.
“I’m not thinking,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m remembering.”
He stilled. “The last time you said that,” he murmured, “you were about to stab me in the heart.”
A laugh burst from me—sharp, unexpected, tinged with something bitter. “And yet here I am. Still in your arms. Still wearing your mark.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. Just held me tighter, his grip possessive, protective. “You don’t have to carry it alone,” he said, voice low. “Whatever it is. Whatever you’re afraid of.”
My breath caught.
Because he always knew.
Even when I didn’t say it.
“I’m not afraid of carrying it,” I said, turning in his arms, my dark eyes locking onto his golden ones. “I’m afraid of what it means. That I’m not just your mate. I’m not just Blair. I’m… something else now. A judge. A symbol. A weapon.”
He didn’t flinch. Just cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You were always a weapon. You just didn’t know how to aim.” His eyes burned. “Now you do.”
“And if I aim wrong?” I whispered.
“Then I’ll be there to catch you,” he said. “Always.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Because he believed in me.
Even when I didn’t.
—
The stronghold was quiet when we left the archives. Not silent. Never silent. But the usual rhythm—the growls, the howls, the clatter of training weapons—was subdued. The wolves moved through the corridors with a new awareness, their eyes sharp, their steps measured. Some nodded as we passed. Others bowed. One young enforcer—barely more than a pup—stepped aside, his hand over his heart, a silent salute.
And I—
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t look away.
Just met his gaze and nodded back.
Because I wasn’t Blair the rogue. Blair the challenger. Blair the destroyer.
I was Blair.
Kaelen’s mate.
Theirs.
And now—
Something more.
“You’re taking it well,” Kaelen said, his hand warm on the small of my back as we walked.
“Taking what well?” I asked.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the wolves, to the stronghold, to the weight of what we’d become. “The pack. The bond. The Book. Me.”
I stopped, turning to face him. “I didn’t come here to be your mate.”
“No,” he said. “You came to destroy me.”
“And I would have,” I said, stepping into his space. “If you hadn’t been the only one who ever saw me.”
His breath caught.
And for the first time, I saw it—the crack in his control. Not just as Alpha. As a man. A man who loved me so fiercely it terrified him.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Now,” he said, pulling me closer, “we prepare. Because they’re coming.”
“Who?”
“The ones who still believe in the old world,” he said. “The ones who see the new law as weakness. They won’t attack the stronghold. Not yet. But they’ll test the edges. They’ll find a crack. And when they do—”
“We’ll be ready,” I said.
He didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Good.”
—
The messenger arrived at dusk.
Not from the fae. Not from the vampires. Not from the witches.
From the throne.
She wore the silver insignia of the Fae High Court, her cloak lined with protective sigils, her eyes sharp beneath her hood. She was brought to the Council Chamber, where Kaelen and I stood with Riven and Elara, the Book of Bonds resting on the pedestal between us, its cover pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat.
“She says it’s urgent,” the guard said. “A summons. From the Council Elder.”
My spine went rigid.
“Let her speak,” I said.
The woman stepped forward, lowering her hood. “The Elder requests your presence,” she said, voice formal. “At the Fae High Court. Tomorrow at dawn. There is… unrest.”
“Unrest?” Kaelen growled.
“Among the nobles,” she said. “They claim the First Law is too radical. That Blair’s judgment of Lord Vaelen was an abuse of power. That the Book is not a lawgiver, but a weapon.”
My blood turned to ice.
“And the Elder?” I asked.
“She stands with you,” the messenger said. “But she cannot hold them alone. They demand a trial. A reckoning. They want the Book destroyed.”
“They’ll have to go through me first,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his presence a wall of heat and fury.
“No,” I said, stepping in front of him. “They want a trial? Fine. Let them have one.” I turned to the messenger. “Tell the Elder we’ll be there.”
She bowed. “It will be done.”
And then she was gone.
The chamber was silent.
“You can’t go,” Elara said, stepping forward. “They’ll try to take the Book. They’ll try to strip you of your voice.”
“Then I’ll give them a reason not to,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll show them what the Book really is. Not a weapon. Not a curse. A promise.”
“And if they don’t believe you?” Riven asked.
I looked at the Book.
At its pulsing cover.
At the weight of what it carried.
“Then,” I said, “we’ll make them.”
—
That night, I dreamed.
Not of the future.
Not of the Contract.
Of the past.
The Fae High Court. The same marble, the same chandeliers. But colder. Older. And in the center—
My mother.
She stood barefoot, her silver hair glowing, her hands pressed to the trunk of the Contract-tree. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful. And then—
She spoke.
Not to me.
To the Contract.
“You were never meant to bind,” she said, her voice soft, familiar. “You were meant to protect. To shield the weak. To guard the forgotten. To be a sanctuary, not a prison.”
The tree pulsed.
And then—
It answered.
Not with words.
With light.
A pulse of silver, warm and bright, spreading through the chamber, touching every wall, every floor, every soul. And in that light—
I saw it.
The truth.
The Contract hadn’t been corrupted by Cassian.
It had been twisted.
By fear. By greed. By the need to control.
But its heart—its core—was still pure. Still good. Still ours.
And then—
The vision shifted.
Not memory.
Not past.
Future.
The Court was whole. The pack stood at the front, their eyes sharp, their loyalty unshaken. The wolves. The witches. The vampires. Even the fae—some with their masks off, their faces open, their eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen in decades: hope.
And in the center—
Kaelen and me.
Hand in hand. Marked. Claimed. Bound.
But not by force.
By choice.
And beneath us—
The tree.
Stronger now. Brighter. Its roots deeper, its branches wider. And from its trunk—
A new clause.
Etched in silver, glowing with power.
“No bond shall be forced. No magic shall be stolen. No life shall be bound without consent.”
I woke with tears on my cheeks.
Kaelen was already awake, watching me, his golden eyes burning.
“You dreamed it too,” he said.
I nodded.
“Then it’s not just a law,” he said, pulling me close. “It’s a promise.”
And as the wind howled and the stars burned above us—
I knew.
The Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.
—
The journey to the Fae High Court was silent.
No words. No warnings. No last-minute strategies.
Just the rhythmic clop of the shadow wolves’ hooves against the stone road, the cold wind cutting through the carriage, the Book of Bonds resting between us like a sleeping child. Its cover pulsed faintly, a slow, steady rhythm, like a heartbeat. I kept my hand on it, not because I was afraid it would disappear—but because I was afraid it wouldn’t.
Because now, it was real.
The law wasn’t just written.
It was recognized.
And the world would test it.
Kaelen sat across from me, his face unreadable, his golden eyes dark. Riven and Elara were beside him, their silence heavier than any speech. I wanted to reach for him. To touch him. To say something—anything—that would make this feel like a beginning, not an ending.
But I couldn’t.
Because the truth was—
I wasn’t sure I was ready.
I’d come to destroy the Contract.
And instead—
I’d become its judge.
And that changed everything.
—
The Fae High Court rose from the Edinburgh skyline like a blade of black stone, its spires piercing the clouds, its windows glowing with cold fae light. The gates groaned open as we approached, the air thick with glamour, with poison, with the scent of old lies. Wolves lined the path, their eyes down, their claws retracted. Fae nobles watched from balconies, their faces masked, their eyes sharp.
And in the center—
The Council Elder.
She stood at the top of the grand staircase, robed in silver and blue, her long hair gleaming, her face calm, her eyes sharp. No Cassian. No Mira. Just her. And behind her, a dozen fae nobles, their expressions unreadable.
“Alpha Vire,” she said as we stepped from the carriage. “Blair of the Bloodline. You return.”
Kaelen didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. His hand gripped mine, steady, possessive.
“We do,” I said, stepping beside him. “And we bring the law.”
She didn’t react. Just gestured to the Council Chamber. “Then speak.”
—
The Council Chamber was a vast stone hall, lit by torches that flickered like dying stars. The delegation stood at the far end—Elder in the center, the nobles behind her. No masks. No veils. Just faces. Open. Watchful. Waiting.
Kaelen and I stood together, hand in hand, the bond humming between us. The wolves of the pack lined the walls, silent, watchful, their loyalty a quiet promise in the air. Riven and Elara stood at our side, the Book of Bonds cradled between them.
“The Book is not a weapon,” I said, my voice steady, cutting through the silence. “It is not a curse. It is the heart of the new Contract. And if you doubt its truth—” I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the stone—“then let it speak.”
Elara opened the Book.
The runes flared.
And then—
I spoke.
Not with magic.
Not with memory.
With my voice.
“No bond shall be forced,” I said, my voice ringing through the chamber. “No magic shall be stolen. No life shall be bound without consent.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.
It was waiting.
And then—
The Elder stepped forward.
Her eyes were sharp, but not cold. Not hostile. Curious.
“And if someone breaks this law?” she asked.
“Then they answer to us,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his voice a low growl. “To the pack. To the bond. To the truth.”
She didn’t flinch. Just looked at me. “And you? What do you gain from this?”
“Nothing,” I said. “No power. No title. No revenge. I gain the knowledge that no one else will suffer as my mother did. That no one else will be bound against their will. That love—real, chosen, free love—will finally have a chance.”
The Elder studied me.
And then—
She nodded.
“Then let it be written,” she said, turning to the others. “Let it be sealed. Let it be law.”
The nobles murmured. Some nodded. Some looked uncertain. But none spoke against it.
And then—
The Elder stepped forward, her hand outstretched.
Not to Kaelen.
Not to the pack.
To me.
“Blair of the Bloodline,” she said, her voice echoing through the chamber. “You have healed the Contract. You have spoken the first law. And now—” her eyes burned—“you have our word. It will be honored. It will be protected. And if anyone dares to break it—” she turned to the others—“they will answer to us all.”
The chamber erupted.
Not in anger.
Not in protest.
In cheers.
The wolves roared. The witches raised their hands. The vampires bowed. Even the fae—some with their masks off, their faces open, their eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen in decades: hope.
And I—
I stood there, my hand in Kaelen’s, the bond humming between us.
Because the Contract was broken.
But our bond?
That was just beginning.