The northern training yard was silent at this hour—just past dawn, the sky still bruised with twilight, the air sharp with frost and the iron scent of old blood. The dummies stood in their usual formation, their leather hides scarred from drills, their ropes creaking in the wind. I didn’t light the torches. Didn’t need to. My wolf saw well in the dark, and right now, I didn’t want to be seen.
I stripped off my coat, hung it on the rack, and stepped into the yard bare-chested, the cold biting into my skin like teeth. My claws itched. My muscles coiled. My wolf paced beneath my skin, restless, *aware.*
I didn’t go for the weapons first.
I started with the dummies.
Left hook. Right kick. Elbow strike. Spin. Knee to the gut. I moved fast, hard, relentless, each blow landing with a sickening thud. The leather split under my knuckles. The ropes snapped. The dummy toppled, but I didn’t stop. I turned to the next. Then the next. My breath came in sharp bursts, my pulse a steady drum in my ears. I wasn’t training. I wasn’t drilling.
I was *punishing.*
Myself.
For what I’d seen.
For what I *felt.*
For the way my chest had tightened when I’d stepped into Kael’s chambers and found them like that—Parker on the bed, bare, vulnerable, her back pressed to Kael’s chest, his hands on her spine, on her hip, his body caging hers. For the way my wolf had whined, not in submission, but in something worse—*recognition.*
Like it knew.
Like it had been waiting.
Like she wasn’t just *his* queen.
She was *ours.*
I drove my fist into the last dummy, splitting the leather clean through. It collapsed, stuffing spilling like entrails. I stood over it, chest heaving, knuckles split, blood dripping into the frost.
“You’re going to break something,” a voice said from the shadows.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Just wiped the blood from my hands onto my trousers and reached for the swords.
Maeve stepped into the yard, her hood pulled low, her staff tapping against the stone. Her storm-gray eyes—so like Parker’s—flicked to the ruined dummies, then to me.
“You’re angry,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” She leaned on her staff, her voice soft. “You saw them. In the ritual. And it shook you.”
I didn’t answer. Just unsheathed the twin blades—one silver, one iron—and began the forms. Fast. Precise. Brutal. The metal sang through the air, slicing silence into pieces.
“You’re not just his Beta,” Maeve said. “You’re his brother. His shadow. And you’ve always known your place.”
“And I still do.”
“Do you?” She stepped closer. “Because when you looked at them, you didn’t see a commander and his subordinate. You didn’t see a king and his queen.”
I froze mid-swing.
“You saw *family,*” she said. “And it terrified you.”
My breath came fast. My grip tightened on the hilts.
“Why?” she pressed. “Because you’ve spent your life in the shadows, loyal, obedient, *necessary.* But never close. Never seen. And now—”
“Now there’s her,” I snapped, turning to face her. “And she *sees* me.”
Maeve smiled. “Yes. She does.”
“And it’s not supposed to *hurt.*” My voice cracked. “I’m not supposed to *care.*”
“But you do.”
I didn’t deny it.
I thought of the way Parker had looked at me in my quarters, her storm-gray eyes sharp, searching, *alive.* The way she’d trusted me with her truth, with her fear, with the journal that proved Kael had been protecting her since the beginning. The way she’d said, *“Thank you, Dain,”* like I mattered.
Like I was *real.*
And then I thought of Kael—my commander, my king, the man who’d pulled me from the streets when I was a starving orphan, who’d trained me, trusted me, *saved* me. The man who’d never let anyone close—until her.
And now he was changing.
Not just because of the bond.
Because of *her.*
He was softer. Warmer. More *human.* And the Spire—my home, my duty, my life—was shifting beneath my feet.
“He’s losing focus,” I said, voice rough. “Ravel’s still out there. The Council’s fracturing. The werewolf packs are restless. And Kael?” I slammed the blades into the ground. “He’s too busy chasing a woman who still wants to kill him.”
“She doesn’t want to kill him,” Maeve said simply. “She wants to believe she does. But she feels the bond. She feels *him.* And she’s afraid of how much she needs it.”
“And what about *me?*” The words tore out of me, raw, unbidden. “What about *us?* I’ve been at his side for *fifteen years.* I’ve bled for him. I’ve killed for him. I’ve *died* for him. And now—”
“Now you’re afraid he’ll choose her over you,” Maeve finished.
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
And that was the worst part.
“He won’t,” she said. “Kael doesn’t abandon his own.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m losing him?”
“Because you’re not just losing a commander.” She stepped closer, her voice low. “You’re gaining a family. And family changes everything.”
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small, silver locket—the same one Kael had shown Parker. “This belonged to Elara. She gave it to Kael the night before they killed her. But she didn’t just give it to him.”
I stared. “What are you saying?”
“She gave me one too.” Maeve opened the locket. Inside was a tiny portrait—of a young woman with storm-gray eyes and a fierce smile. “She knew. She knew you’d all find each other. She knew the bond would awaken. And she knew—”
“That we were supposed to protect her,” I finished, voice breaking.
Maeve nodded. “And we will. All of us. Not just Kael. Not just me. *You.*”
Silence.
The wind howled through the yard, carrying the scent of frost and old magic. The torches flickered to life, their flames blue with warding runes.
“You’re not alone, Dain,” Maeve said. “You never were.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned and walked back to the armory, my boots echoing on the stone, the weight of her words pressing down like stone.
But I wasn’t alone.
And that changed everything.
The Spire was waking.
The corridors hummed with quiet tension, the scent of blood-wine and vampire politics thick in the air. I moved through the lower levels like a shadow, my steps silent, my senses sharp. The attack at the gala had shaken them. The mark on Parker’s neck had terrified them. And now—
Now the whispers were louder.
“She’s compromised.”
“The bond has clouded her judgment.”
“She’s no longer fit to serve.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t slow. Just kept walking, my jaw set, my claws itching.
And then—
—I saw *her.*
Lira stood at the end of the corridor, her crimson gown swirling like blood in water, her red eyes blazing. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched me, her lips curled in a slow, venomous smile.
I kept walking.
She didn’t stop me. Just let me pass, her scent—blood and roses—filling the air behind me like a curse.
Good.
Let her watch.
Let her fear.
Because when the storm broke, I wouldn’t be the one standing in the shadows.
I reached Kael’s chambers and knocked—once, sharp.
“Enter,” his voice came, low, rough.
I pushed the door open.
The room was dim, the fire in the hearth crackling with blue flame. Kael stood at the balcony, his coat gone, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, his back to me. His posture was rigid, unreadable. But I knew him. I’d fought beside him. Bled beside him. And I could see it—the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the stone railing, the faint tremor in his hands.
He was struggling.
“You wanted to see me,” I said, stepping inside.
He didn’t turn. “Did you tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“About the locket.”
I stilled. “She has one too.”
He finally turned, his gold-flecked eyes sharp, searching. “Maeve gave it to you.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Elara didn’t just give them to us. She gave them to *all* of us. To you. To Maeve. To me. She knew. She knew the bond would find Parker. She knew we’d have to protect her. And she knew—”
“That we were her family,” I finished.
He nodded. “And now I’m failing them.”
“You’re not failing anyone.”
“Aren’t I?” He stepped forward, his voice low, dangerous. “Ravel’s still out there. The Council’s turning against us. And Parker—”
“Parker’s stronger than you think.”
“She’s *hurting,* Dain.” His voice broke. “She came here to destroy me. To burn the Council to the ground. And now—”
“Now she’s finding her truth,” I said. “And it’s not easy. But she’s not alone. *We’re* not alone.”
He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time in years. Not as his Beta. Not as his soldier.
As his brother.
“You saw us,” he said. “In the ritual.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I saw the bond.” I stepped closer. “I felt it. Not just between you. But in the air. In the stone. In the very pulse of the Spire.”
He didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “It’s changing everything.”
“It already has.” I met his gaze. “But that’s not a weakness. It’s a *rebirth.*”
He was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out the locket. Opened it. Showed me the tiny portrait—Elara, young, fierce, her storm-gray eyes blazing with defiance.
“She knew,” he said, voice rough. “She knew we’d find each other. That we’d protect her daughter. That we’d become something *more.*”
“And we will,” I said. “All of us.”
He closed the locket, his fingers trembling. “Then I need you. Not just as my Beta. As my *brother.*”
My breath caught.
Not from surprise.
From the weight of it.
From the truth.
“You have me,” I said, voice steady. “Always.”
He nodded. Then turned back to the balcony, his silhouette sharp against the pale morning sky.
“Ravel’s going to move,” he said. “And when he does, we’ll be ready.”
“We will,” I agreed. “But not just to fight. To protect. To *build.*”
He didn’t answer.
But I knew he heard me.
Because as I turned to leave, one thought echoed in my mind—
She’s not just his queen.
She’s ours.
And I would die before I let anyone take her from us.