The silence in the Archives was thick, charged—like the air before a storm breaks. Blair stood against the pedestal, her chest rising and falling fast, the black-bound book trembling in her hands. Her scent—jasmine and iron, sharp with magic—cut through the dust and decay of the old chamber. And beneath it, something else: fear. Not of me. Of what she’d just read. Of what it meant.
I’d seen the words on the page. “To break it, you must claim the one who signed it—not in hate, but in truth. In love. In bond.”
Claim me.
Not as a prisoner. Not as a symbol of the Contract.
As a mate.
And the worst part?
I wanted it.
Not because of the bond. Not because of the magic. But because of her. Blair. The woman who’d walked into the Fae High Court with fire in her eyes and vengeance in her blood. The woman who’d slapped a lie from Mira’s face without flinching. The woman whose body had arched into mine during the ritual, even as she denied it.
She was a storm in human form. Unpredictable. Unbreakable. And she was bound to me.
And I—Alpha of the Northern Wolf Packs, enforcer of order, keeper of peace—was losing control.
“You’re out of time,” I said again, voice rough. “The Council’s guards will be here soon.”
She didn’t move. Her eyes were wide, dark, searching mine. “You read it. You saw what it said.”
“I saw lies,” I said. Too fast. Too hard.
She flinched. “You don’t believe it?”
“I believe the Contract is alive,” I said. “I believe it’s rewriting itself. But I don’t believe love—real love—can be dictated by a cursed parchment.”
“Then what do you believe?” she whispered.
I stepped closer. The chain between us hummed, warm against my wrist. “I believe in power. In choice. In survival. And right now, your survival depends on walking out of here before Cassian’s men lock you in a cell.”
She closed the book slowly, her fingers lingering on the sigil. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about my mother. About every hybrid who’s been erased. If this book tells the truth—”
“Then you’ll have to make a choice,” I interrupted. “Between revenge and redemption. Between destroying me… and saving us both.”
Her breath caught.
And then—
A howl.
Not from the mountains. Not from the pack.
From inside the Court.
Low. Feral. Wrong.
My spine went rigid. Blair tensed, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt—stolen, I noted, from my weapons wall.
“Rogue,” I said, already moving toward the door. “And close.”
She followed, silent, fast. We slipped into the corridor just as the howl came again—closer now. A werewolf, unbound. Uncontrolled. One who hadn’t shifted under the moon, but under rage. Under pain.
And then—
Chaos.
Shouts. Screams. The crash of breaking glass. The stench of blood and fear.
We moved through the labyrinth, the chain between us tugging with every step. Blair kept pace, her boots silent on stone, her eyes scanning every shadow. She wasn’t just a witch. Not just a fae. She was a fighter. And she trusted her instincts more than she trusted me.
Good.
Because I wasn’t sure I could protect her.
Not from what was coming.
We turned a corner—and there he was.
A massive gray wolf, twice the size of a normal alpha, his fur matted with blood, his eyes wild with madness. He crouched over a fallen guard, jaws dripping red. He hadn’t come to kill. He’d come to destroy.
And then he saw us.
His head snapped up. A growl rumbled in his chest—deep, guttural, unholy.
Blair stepped forward. “We need to—”
“Stay behind me,” I said, shifting into a defensive stance.
“I can help—”
“You’re not a wolf. You don’t know how to fight one.”
“I’m not helpless,” she snapped.
“You’re bound,” I growled. “And if you get hurt, the bond will tear through me like fire. So stay behind me.”
She hesitated. Then stepped back.
The rogue lunged.
I met him mid-air, my shoulder slamming into his ribs, knocking him sideways. He snarled, slashing at my arm. Claws tore through fabric, skin. Pain flared, hot and sharp. But I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.
Not with Blair watching.
He came at me again—faster, wilder. I dodged, rolled, came up with a dagger in hand. I slashed, catching his flank. He howled, spinning, blood spraying the walls.
But he wasn’t slowing.
And then—
Blair moved.
Not behind me.
Beside me.
She raised her hand, fingers splayed, and spoke.
Not in English. Not in fae.
In blood magic.
Her voice was low, guttural, ancient. The air shimmered. A sigil flared to life in the air between us—crimson, pulsing, alive. And then—
A whip of pure energy, crackling with power, lashed out, wrapping around the rogue’s neck.
He screamed—human this time. A voice I recognized.
Draven.
One of my enforcers. Missing for weeks. Presumed dead.
But not dead.
Corrupted.
“Blair, stop!” I shouted. “He’s one of mine!”
But she didn’t stop. The sigil tightened. Draven collapsed, writhing, his form shifting back to human—naked, bloody, broken.
And then—silence.
She lowered her hand, breathing hard, her chest heaving. The sigil faded. The chain between us pulsed—hot, heavy.
I stared at her. Not at the rogue. Not at the blood.
At her.
She’d used forbidden magic. Blood magic. The kind that drained life. The kind that could kill.
And she’d done it without hesitation.
“You saved him,” I said, voice low.
She wiped blood from her lip—her own, from where she’d bitten it during the spell. “I stopped him. That’s not the same thing.”
“You could’ve killed him.”
“I could’ve,” she agreed. “But I didn’t.”
I stepped closer, my arm burning, my pulse roaring. “You’re not what I expected.”
She lifted her chin. “You keep saying that. Maybe you should stop expecting and start seeing.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
But then I remembered.
The Council. The rules. The law.
And the punishment for using forbidden magic in the High Court.
“You used blood magic,” I said. “That’s a death sentence.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then arrest me.”
“I should.”
“But you won’t.”
I stepped into her space, the chain between us tightening. My blood dripped onto the stone. Hers was steady, strong, defiant.
“No,” I admitted. “I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you saved one of my pack,” I said. “And because if I arrest you, Cassian will use it to destroy us both.”
She searched my face. “That’s not the only reason.”
No. It wasn’t.
The real reason?
I couldn’t bear the thought of her in chains. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty.
Because of her.
Because when she’d raised her hand, when she’d spoken that ancient tongue, when she’d faced down a rogue wolf with nothing but magic and courage—
She’d looked like a queen.
And I—Alpha, warrior, enforcer—had wanted to kneel.
“We need to go,” I said, turning away before she could see the crack in my armor. “Before more guards come.”
She followed, silent this time. We moved through the corridors, the chain between us a tether I no longer wanted to break. Draven limped behind us, wrapped in a stolen cloak, his eyes hollow with shame.
When we reached the suite, I barred the door. Blair went straight to the hearth, lighting the fire with a snap of her fingers. No spell. No blood. Just will.
Impressive.
“Sit,” I said, pulling a chair to the fire.
“I’m not injured,” she said.
“I am.”
She turned, her gaze dropping to my arm. Blood soaked through the sleeve, dark and thick. Her breath hitched—just slightly. But I heard it.
“Let me see,” she said.
“I can handle it.”
“You’re losing blood.”
“I’ve lost more.”
She crossed the room in three strides, her fingers gripping my wrist. “Don’t be an idiot. Let me help.”
I hesitated. Then pulled off my tunic, baring the wound—three deep gashes, already closing, but slow. Too slow.
She knelt beside me, her fingers brushing my skin. A jolt. Not pain. Heat. Desire. The bond pulsed, warm, insistent.
“You’re healing,” she said, voice low. “But it’s not fast enough.”
“Werewolf,” I reminded her. “We heal on our own.”
“Not from cursed claws,” she said. “I saw the way he moved. That wasn’t just madness. It was poison. Dark magic. It’s slowing your regeneration.”
I hadn’t wanted to admit it. But she was right.
“Then fix it,” I said.
She reached into the pocket of her uniform, pulling out a small vial of amber liquid. “Witch’s balm. It’ll help.”
She uncorked it, dipped her fingers in, and began to apply it to the wound.
Her touch—soft, deliberate—sent fire through my veins. Not just from the balm. From her. Her scent. Her warmth. The way her hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned in.
And then—
Her thumb brushed the inside of my elbow.
A pulse. Sharp. Electric.
My breath caught.
Her eyes flicked to mine. “Did that hurt?”
“No,” I said, voice rough.
She didn’t pull away.
She kept working, her fingers gliding over my skin, the balm cooling the burn. But the heat between us only grew.
“Why did you save him?” I asked. “Draven. You didn’t know him. You didn’t owe him anything.”
She didn’t look up. “I didn’t save him for him. I saved him for you.”
My chest tightened.
“You think I care that much?”
“I think you’d carry his death like a scar,” she said. “And I’ve seen enough scars in my life.”
I stared at her. The woman who’d come to destroy me. The woman who’d read the book that said she had to claim me to break the Contract.
And yet—here she was, tending my wound, her fingers gentle, her voice soft.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said again.
She looked up, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Then stop pretending you know me.”
And just like that, the tension snapped.
I stood, pulling away. “You should rest. We’ll deal with Draven in the morning.”
She didn’t argue. Just nodded, moving to the bed. She sat on the edge, her boots still on, her posture tense.
“Kaelen,” she said, before I could turn away.
“Hmm?”
“You’re not what I expected either.”
I didn’t answer.
But as I stood by the fire, watching the flames, I let myself feel it.
The truth.
She’d come to destroy the Contract.
But she was destroying me.
Not with vengeance.
With something far more dangerous.
With hope.
—
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
Werewolves don’t need much. But that night, I stayed awake, listening to her breathe, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she finally drifted into restless sleep. The chain between us pulsed, steady, slow. The bond was calm—for now.
But I knew it wouldn’t last.
Because tomorrow, I had to test her.
Not for the Council.
Not for Cassian.
For me.
Because if she was going to break the Contract, if she was going to claim me as her mate, she couldn’t just be strong.
She had to be unbreakable.
And the only way to know that?
Was to break her myself.
—
At dawn, I woke her with a single word.
“Up.”
She groaned, rolling over. “It’s not even—”
“Now,” I said, already dressed, my arm wrapped in fresh bandages. “We’re going to the training yard.”
She sat up, blinking. “Why?”
“Because you need to prove you’re not a threat.”
“I already did. I saved Draven.”
“That was mercy,” I said. “I need to see strength. Control. Power.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want to fight me?”
“No,” I said. “I want to see what you’re made of.”
She stood, stripping off her uniform down to a thin undershirt and trousers. My breath caught—just slightly—at the sight of her skin, smooth, pale, marked with old scars. A warrior’s body. A survivor’s body.
“Then let’s go,” she said.
The training yard was empty at this hour, the stone slick with dew. I led her to the center, where the scent of old blood and sweat still lingered in the air.
“What now?” she asked.
“You’re going to fight,” I said.
“With you?”
“No.” I raised my voice. “Draven.”
From the shadows, he stepped forward—bent, bruised, but alive. His eyes locked on Blair. Not with gratitude. With rage.
“You humiliated me,” he snarled.
She didn’t flinch. “I saved your life.”
“You used blood magic on me. That’s a death sentence.”
“And yet, here you are,” she said. “Alive. Breathing. Free.”
He lunged.
I didn’t stop him.
She didn’t either.
She sidestepped, fast, graceful. He swung again. She ducked. Then—
She struck.
Not with magic.
With her fist.
It connected with his jaw, hard. He staggered. She didn’t let up. A kick to the ribs. A sweep to the legs. He went down, hard.
And then—
She stood over him, breathing hard, her eyes blazing.
“I could’ve killed you,” she said. “But I didn’t. So if you want to keep breathing, you’ll stay down.”
He did.
I stepped forward. “That was impressive.”
She turned to me. “Was that the test?”
“No,” I said. “That was the warm-up.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then what—”
Before she could finish, I shifted.
Not fully. Just enough.
My claws extended. My eyes burned gold. My voice dropped to a growl.
“Now,” I said. “You fight me.”
She didn’t hesitate.
She raised her hands.
And the air between us crackled.
And in that moment, I knew.
She wasn’t just strong.
She was mine.
And the world would burn before I let anyone take her from me.