The air in the Council complex had changed.
It wasn’t just the silence—though that was new. No more hushed whispers behind hands, no more sidelong glances at Elara as she passed. No, it was something deeper. A shift in gravity. Like the world had tilted on its axis and no one had told the sun.
I felt it in my bones.
In the way the vampires now stepped aside when she walked through the corridors. In the way the werewolves lowered their heads, not in submission, but in *recognition*. In the way even the Fae—those slippery, oath-bound ghosts—watched her with something like awe.
Elara Shadowline wasn’t just a hybrid anymore.
She wasn’t just a bonded wife.
She was a queen.
And Kaelen—cold, ruthless, untouchable Kaelen Duskbane—had knelt.
I’d seen it. Not with my eyes. But with my wolf. The bond between them had flared so bright during the trial that even the weakest of us had felt it—a pulse of gold so pure it burned. And when she’d stepped in front of that blade, when she’d taken the hit meant for him, the bond hadn’t just flared.
It had *screamed*.
And I’d known then.
They weren’t just fighting for the balance.
They were fighting for each other.
And that made them dangerous.
I stood at the edge of the training yard, arms crossed, watching the younger wolves spar. Their movements were sharp, precise, but their hearts weren’t in it. Too much had happened. Too much had changed. The old rules were crumbling. The Blood Pact was in chaos. Veylan was still out there, wounded but not broken. And the woman who had once been my enemy—my lord’s enemy—was now the one holding the world together.
And I—
I didn’t know where I stood.
Not with the Court. Not with the Council. Not even with my own pack.
Because my heart wasn’t here.
It was with *her*.
Mira.
The Fae ambassador with silver hair and sharper eyes, who had spoken for Elara in the chamber. Who had risked everything with a single word. Who had looked at me across the room and said, *“You owe me a century.”*
And gods, I did.
One night. That’s all it had been. One reckless, moon-drunk night in Prague, centuries ago, when we were both younger, both foolish, both so tired of the games. We’d danced. We’d laughed. We’d kissed. And one kiss with a Fae—it wasn’t just a kiss.
It was an oath.
And that oath had bound me to her for a hundred years.
I’d run from it. Of course I had. I was a werewolf. A Beta. Bound to Kaelen, to duty, to the pack. I couldn’t just vanish into the mist with a Fae woman and leave everything behind.
But she hadn’t forgotten.
And now she was here.
And she wanted to collect.
“Cassian.”
I turned.
She stood in the archway, silhouetted by the low light of dusk. Silver hair like moonlight. Pale skin like frost. Eyes that saw too much. She wore a gown of shimmering gray, the fabric shifting like mist with every step. Fae glamour—subtle, beautiful, *deadly*.
“Mira,” I said, my voice rough.
She didn’t smile. Just stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the stone. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy,” I said. “The Court is in chaos. Veylan is still out there. We’re preparing for war.”
“And yet,” she said, tilting her head, “you find time to watch the training yard. To stand in the shadows. To brood.”
I didn’t answer.
Just crossed my arms tighter, my wolf stirring beneath my skin. She always did this. Always saw through me. Always made me feel like I was the one who was naked, not her.
“You owe me,” she said, stepping closer. “A century. A debt. And I’ve come to collect.”
“You know I can’t just—”
“Leave?” she interrupted. “Disappear? Abandon your duty? Your pack? Your *lord*?”
“Yes,” I said, voice low. “You know what I am. You know what I owe.”
“I know what you *were*,” she said. “But the world is changing, Cassian. Elara and Kaelen—they’ve rewritten the rules. They’ve taken what they want. And you—” She stepped closer, her hand rising to my chest. “—you’re still hiding.”
Her touch burned.
Not with heat.
With *truth*.
My breath caught. My wolf growled. My heart—gods, my heart—pounded like it wanted out.
“I’m not hiding,” I said.
“You are,” she whispered. “You’re hiding from me. From yourself. From what we are.”
“We’re nothing,” I said. “It was one night. A mistake.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me. Not with an oath between us. You know what we are. You know what I feel.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, though I already knew.
She stepped closer, her lips brushing my ear. “You feel it too. The pull. The need. The *truth*. You’ve always loved me, Cassian. Even when you ran. Even when you denied it. Even now.”
My body locked.
Because she was right.
And I hated her for it.
“I can’t,” I said, stepping back. “I have a duty. A pack. A lord who trusts me.”
“And what about *you*?” she asked. “What do *you* want?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
Or maybe I did.
And that was the problem.
She studied me, her eyes sharp, her glamour flickering. For a moment, I saw her—truly saw her. Not the ambassador. Not the Fae. But the woman who had laughed with me under the Prague moon. The woman who had whispered, *“Stay with me,”* and meant it. The woman who had waited centuries for me to stop running.
And I—
I wanted to.
Gods help me, I wanted to.
But I couldn’t.
“I can’t,” I said again, my voice breaking. “I won’t abandon them. Not now. Not when they need me.”
“They don’t need you like I do,” she said, stepping closer. “They have each other. But I—” Her voice dropped. “—I have only you.”
My chest ached.
Because I believed her.
And that was the worst part.
“Then ask me for something else,” I said. “A favor. A service. Anything but this.”
She shook her head. “It’s not a favor. It’s not a service. It’s a debt. And I won’t be denied.”
“Then take it,” I said, my voice raw. “Take the century. Take my loyalty. Take my service. But don’t ask me to leave.”
“I’m not asking,” she said. “I’m telling. You will come with me. Tonight. Or I will tell the Council what you are. What we are. And they will destroy you.”
My wolf snarled.
But I held it back.
Because she wasn’t bluffing.
And I couldn’t risk it.
Not now.
Not when Elara and Kaelen were so close to stopping Veylan.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”
She didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Meet me at the old cathedral. Midnight.”
Then she turned and walked away, her gown shimmering like mist, her presence fading like a dream.
And I—
I stood there, my fists clenched, my heart breaking.
Because I knew.
This wasn’t just about a debt.
This was about a choice.
And I didn’t know if I was strong enough to make it.
—
The old cathedral loomed at the edge of the city, its spires clawing at the sky like broken bones. The moon was high, casting long shadows across the cobblestones, the air thick with the scent of rain and old magic. I stood at the base of the steps, my hands in my pockets, my wolf restless beneath my skin.
I shouldn’t be here.
I *couldn’t* be here.
But I was.
Because I’d made a promise.
And because I was weak.
The door creaked open.
She stood there, silhouetted by candlelight, her silver hair glowing, her eyes sharp. She didn’t speak. Just stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.
I hesitated.
Then stepped inside.
The interior was vast—stone walls, stained glass, rows of pews covered in dust. Candles flickered in the darkness, their light dancing across the floor. And at the center—
A circle.
Etched into the stone. Runes of Fae magic. Oaths. Truth. Memory.
“What is this?” I asked.
“A binding,” she said, stepping into the circle. “To seal the debt. To make it real.”
“You don’t need this,” I said. “I gave you my word.”
“Words are wind,” she said. “But magic—magic is truth.”
She held out her hand.
“Join me.”
I didn’t move.
“Mira, I can’t—”
“You *can*,” she said. “You just won’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” she said. “You love me. I love you. And you’ve spent centuries running from it. But tonight—” Her voice dropped. “—tonight, you stop.”
My chest ached.
Because she was right.
And I was tired.
Tired of fighting. Tired of hiding. Tired of pretending I didn’t feel what I felt.
Slowly, I stepped into the circle.
She didn’t smile. Just took my hand, her skin cold, her grip firm. “Repeat after me,” she said.
And then she spoke.
Words in the old tongue. Fae magic. Oaths. Promises. And as I repeated them, something shifted.
Not just in the air.
But in *me*.
The bond between us flared—not with fire, not with need, but with *recognition*. Like a door opening. Like a truth being spoken aloud for the first time.
And when the final word was spoken, the runes flared silver, and she pulled me into her arms.
Our lips met.
Not like before.
Not like that reckless, moon-drunk night in Prague.
This was different.
Deeper.
Truer.
Her mouth moved against mine, soft, slow, *devouring*. Her hands slid into my hair, pulling me closer, her body pressing to mine. And the bond—oh, the bond—flared, not with demand, not with magic, but with *completion*.
When we broke apart, our breaths tangled, our foreheads touching, she whispered—
“You’re mine.”
And I didn’t argue.
Just pulled her closer, my arms tight around her, my heart beating against hers.
Because she was right.
I *was* hers.
And I always had been.
“I can’t stay,” I said, my voice rough. “I have to go back. To the Court. To Kaelen. To duty.”
She didn’t pull away. Just pressed her lips to my jaw. “Then go. But know this—” Her voice dropped. “—you belong to me now. And I won’t let you go again.”
I didn’t answer.
Just held her, my face buried in her hair, the scent of frost and moonlight filling my lungs.
And for the first time in centuries—
I didn’t feel like I was hiding.
I felt like I was home.
—
I returned to the Court at dawn.
The corridors were quiet, the air thick with tension. I moved swiftly, my boots clicking against the stone, my mind still caught in the echo of her voice, the warmth of her lips, the truth of the bond.
And then I saw them.
Elara and Kaelen, standing in the training yard, their presence a wall. She was in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her body pressed to his. He held her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling.
And I—
I didn’t feel jealousy.
I didn’t feel anger.
I felt *hope*.
Because if they could find each other—if he could learn to love, to trust, to *choose*—then maybe I could too.
Elara turned, sensing me. Her green eyes met mine, sharp, knowing.
“Cassian,” she said.
“My lady,” I said, bowing.
She didn’t smile. Just studied me. “You were with her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I said.
“And the debt?”
“Paid,” I said. “In full.”
She nodded. “Then you’re free.”
“Not free,” I said. “Bound. But willingly.”
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her hand rising to my shoulder. “Then fight for her like you fight for us. Because the world needs more than power. It needs *love*.”
I didn’t answer.
Just nodded.
Because she was right.
And for the first time—
I believed it.