The Spire had never felt so hollow.
Not after the battle. Not after Ravel’s erasure. Not even after the coronation, when the Storm had crowned them both—king and queen, bond and blood, fire and storm.
Now, it just felt… empty.
Like the heart had been carved out, and no one had bothered to replace it.
I stood at the edge of the eastern battlements, my wolf-gold eyes scanning the moors below, the mist curling around the ancient stones like a lover’s breath. The air was thick with the scent of crushed moonpetal, old magic, and something darker—something I couldn’t name. Not fear. Not grief. Not even regret.
Loneliness.
It clung to me like a second skin, heavier than armor, colder than stone. I’d fought beside Kael for over a decade. Watched him rise. Watched him rule. Watched him break. And now—
Now he had her.
Parker.
Stormborn. Queen. His fated.
And I—
I was just the Beta. The loyal one. The one who stayed behind when the world burned.
My claws flexed at my sides, the tips catching the torchlight. I didn’t shift. Didn’t howl. Didn’t let the wolf take over. I just stood there, my jaw tight, my breath steady, my hands clenched into fists.
Because that’s what I did.
I held the line.
I protected the pack.
I stayed in the shadows.
And no one ever looked back.
“You’re brooding,” a voice said from behind me.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Just kept my gaze on the horizon, where the last light of dawn bled into the mist. “I’m thinking.”
“Same thing.” Lira stepped beside me, her red eyes reflecting the torchlight, her wrists still bound in silver cord. She was thinner than I remembered. Paler. Like she hadn’t slept in days. Or maybe she’d forgotten how.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I said, voice low. “The Council’s still watching. One wrong move, and they’ll lock you up for good.”
“Then let them.” She leaned against the stone, her arms crossed, her head tilted toward the sky. “Better than rotting in that cell. Better than listening to the whispers. Better than knowing I helped destroy the only thing that could have saved us.”
My chest tightened.
She didn’t look at me. Just kept staring at the sky, her expression unreadable. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said, voice quiet. “I thought Ravel was the future. That Kael was weak. That the bond was a flaw.”
“And now?”
“Now I know the truth.” She turned to me, her red eyes locking onto mine. “The bond isn’t a flaw. It’s a weapon. And Parker—she’s not just his queen. She’s the Storm. And I helped try to kill her.”
I didn’t answer.
Just watched her. Watched the way her fingers trembled. The way her breath caught. The way her fangs retracted just a fraction too fast.
She wasn’t lying.
She was breaking.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do.
“You gave them the journal,” I said, voice rough. “You helped expose Ravel. You saved Parker.”
“I didn’t do it for her,” she whispered. “I did it for me. Because I couldn’t live with the lies anymore. Because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror and see a monster.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know.” She looked away. “Maybe I am a monster. Maybe I always was. But if I am—” She turned back to me, her eyes blazing. “—then let me die fighting for something real. Not for power. Not for blood. But for *truth.*”
The wind howled.
The torches flickered.
And the silence between us stretched, thick with something I couldn’t name.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But maybe—
—the beginning of it.
“You’re hurt,” I said, stepping closer. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a gash along her ribs, hidden beneath the torn fabric of her tunic. Silver-edged. Old magic. The kind that didn’t heal fast.
“It’s nothing.”
“Liar.” I reached for her, my hand lifting to the wound. “Let me see.”
She didn’t pull away. Just stood there, her breath shallow, her body tense. I peeled back the fabric, revealing the injury—deep, jagged, already infected with dark magic. My claws flexed. My fangs elongated.
“Who did this?” I growled.
“One of Ravel’s men,” she said, voice tight. “Before I gave them the journal. He didn’t like traitors.”
“No,” I said, pressing my palm to the wound. “He wouldn’t.”
My magic flared—gold and amber spiraling from my hand, weaving through the damaged tissue, sealing the tear, purging the poison. She hissed, but didn’t pull away. Just leaned into my touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked, voice trembling. “After everything I’ve done?”
“Because no one else will.” I didn’t look at her. Just kept my hand on the wound, my magic flowing, my wolf quieting. “Because I know what it’s like to be alone. To be hated. To be used.”
She stilled.
“You think I don’t see it?” I said, voice low. “The way the others look at you. The way they whisper. The way they blame you for everything that went wrong. I know that look. I’ve worn it.”
“You’re not like me,” she said, voice breaking.
“No.” I finally looked at her. “I’m not. But I’ve spent my whole life doing what’s right, even when no one thanked me. Even when no one saw me. And if helping you—” I pressed my forehead to hers, my breath unsteady. “—is the right thing to do, then I’ll do it. Even if it costs me everything.”
Her breath caught.
And then—
—she kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle. Not a thank you.
A *claim.*
Her lips crashed into mine, hard and hungry, her fangs grazing my lower lip just enough to draw blood. My magic flared—gold and amber spiraling around us, binding us, *claiming* us. The bond between us—fragile, new, *real*—pulsed in response, not with fire, not with magic, but with *recognition.*
And I kissed her back.
Not because I trusted her.
Not because I forgave her.
But because for the first time in my life—
I wasn’t alone.
When she pulled back, her red eyes were wide, her breath unsteady, her fangs retracted. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispered.
“No,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t. But you’re getting it anyway.”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. Just leaned into me, her head resting against my chest, her body trembling. I didn’t pull away. Just wrapped my arms around her, holding her like I’d never let go.
Because maybe I wouldn’t.
“You can’t stay here,” I said, voice low. “The Council won’t protect you. Not after what you’ve done. Not after what you’ve been.”
“Then where do I go?”
“With me.” I pulled back, my hands framing her face. “The northern pack. My pack. They don’t know about you. Don’t care about the past. All they care about is loyalty. And if you’re willing to earn it—”
“I am,” she said, cutting me off. “I’ll do anything. Fight. Serve. Bleed. Just… don’t leave me here.”
My chest tightened.
“Then you’re not alone anymore,” I said, voice rough. “Not if I can help it.”
She didn’t answer.
Just pressed her forehead to mine, her breath mingling with mine, her heart beating against my chest.
And for the first time in years—
I let myself hope.
We didn’t go back through the Spire. Not through the corridors, not past the Council chambers, not where the whispers would follow us like shadows. We took the hidden passage—the same one Kael and Parker had used the night before, the one carved into the stone, sealed with blood and memory. I placed my palm against the ward, my blood mingling with the ancient sigil, the door dissolving into mist.
And then—
—we stepped into the night.
The world outside was different. The air was thick with the scent of pine and frost, the sky a tapestry of stars, the moon a silver sliver above the mist-shrouded valleys. In the distance, the northern pack’s territory rose from the shadows—wooden longhouses, torch-lit watchtowers, the great hall where the Alphas met under the full moon.
“They’ll smell me,” Lira said, voice quiet. “A vampire. A traitor. They’ll tear me apart before I can explain.”
“Then I’ll explain for you.” I stepped beside her, my hand lifting to the small of her back. “You’re with me. That’s all they need to know.”
She didn’t argue. Just stayed close, her body pressing to mine, her breath steady. We moved through the forest like shadows, our boots silent against the earth, the wind carrying our scent ahead of us. I could feel the pack’s presence—close, watchful, wary. But I didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. Just kept walking, my head high, my claws sheathed, my fangs retracted.
And then—
—we reached the gate.
The guards stepped forward—two Betas, their wolf-gold eyes sharp, their claws extended. “Dain,” one said, voice tense. “You’re not due back for days. And who’s this?”
“Lira,” I said, stepping in front of her. “She’s with me.”
“A vampire?” the second guard snarled. “You bring a *vampire* into our territory?”
“She’s not here to fight,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “She’s here to *live.* And if you have a problem with that—” I let my fangs elongate, my claws tear free of their sheaths. “—you can take it up with me.”
Dead silence.
The guards didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at me, their eyes wide, their scents sharp with alarm.
And then—
—the Alpha stepped out of the shadows.
Tall. Broad. Silver scars across his chest. His wolf-gold eyes locked onto mine. “You’ve always had a soft spot for strays, Dain,” he said, voice rough. “But this one’s dangerous.”
“So am I,” I said, stepping forward. “And she’s not here to harm us. She’s here because she has nowhere else to go. Because she’s tired of being used. Because she wants to *belong.*”
He didn’t flinch. Just studied her—her pale skin, her red eyes, the silver cord still binding her wrists. “And if she turns?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.” I didn’t look away. “But she won’t. Because I trust her.”
“You trust *no one,*” the Alpha said, voice quiet.
“Until now.”
The silence stretched.
And then—
—the Alpha nodded. “One week. If she’s still here after that, she earns her place. But if she so much as *breathes* wrong—”
“She won’t,” I said. “And if she does, I’ll be the one to end her.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. Just stepped aside. “Then welcome to the pack, Lira. Try not to get killed.”
She didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, her head high, her red eyes blazing. “I’ve already survived worse,” she said, voice low, dangerous. “And I’m not leaving.”
I didn’t smile.
Just stepped beside her, my shoulder brushing hers, my presence a wall of heat and power.
Because she wasn’t alone anymore.
And neither was I.
We didn’t go to the longhouse. Not yet. Instead, I led her to the edge of the forest, where the river cut through the valley, its waters black under the moonlight. I knelt, tearing the silver cord from her wrists, then dipped them into the water, washing away the residue of the prison, the pain, the past.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, voice quiet.
“Yes, I did.” I looked up, my wolf-gold eyes locking onto hers. “You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re not a pawn. You’re not even just a survivor.” I reached for her, my fingers brushing the edge of her jaw. “You’re *free.*”
Her breath caught.
And then—
—she kissed me again.
Slow. Soft. Reverent.
And I kissed her back.
Not because I had to.
Not because I was supposed to.
But because for the first time in my life—
I wanted to.
The river whispered. The wind howled. The bond between us—fragile, new, *real*—pulsed in the dark, not with fire, not with magic, but with *future.*
And I knew—
The war wasn’t over.
But I wasn’t fighting it alone anymore.
And that was enough.