The silence after Kaelen leaves is heavier than stone.
Not peaceful. Not empty. Full. Full of everything we didn’t say. Everything I didn’t admit. The way my body arched into his kiss, the way my heart raced when he whispered “Say you’re mine”, the way my fingers clutched his shirt like I was afraid he’d vanish if I let go. I told him I wasn’t his prisoner. I demanded to be treated as his equal. And then—
I gave him exactly what he wanted.
Again.
I press my fingers to my lips. They’re still swollen. Still tingling. Still his. The mark on my collarbone pulses, warm and insistent, a constant reminder of the bond, of the claim, of the truth I can’t outrun.
I’m not free.
Not from the Spire. Not from Vexis. Not from the Council.
And not from him.
But maybe—just maybe—I don’t want to be.
—
Kaelen returns at dusk.
He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t announce himself. Just walks in like he owns the room—like he owns me—and sets a small wooden box on the table. His storm-gray eyes are shadowed, his jaw tight, his scent sharp with tension. Pine. Iron. Smoke. And beneath it—
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
“What is it?” I ask, voice low.
He doesn’t answer. Just opens the box.
Inside—
A crystal vial.
Dark red liquid swirling inside.
Blood.“Vexis’s,” he says. “Drawn from the Blood Pit. Tested by Orin. It’s laced with a memory suppressant. A slow-acting one. Used to erase hybrid identities. To turn them into thralls.”
My stomach turns. “He was using it on the prisoners.”
“Not just them.” He closes the box. “On you.”
I freeze. “What?”
“The needle Mira used. It wasn’t just a paralytic. It was laced with the same compound. Low dose. Enough to cloud your judgment. To make you doubt. To make you question the bond.”
“That’s why I—”
“You weren’t weak,” he interrupts, voice rough. “You weren’t broken. You were poisoned. And I didn’t see it.” His hand clenches into a fist. “I should have. I should have known.”
“You couldn’t have.” I lift my chin. “You were fighting thralls. You were saving me. You did what you had to.”
“And now?” He steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “Now that you know? Now that you know she used Council medicine—stolen, altered, weaponized—will you still trust her?”
“I never trusted her.”
“Then why did you hesitate?”
My breath hitches.
Because he’s right.
When Mira appeared in the tunnels, when she smiled and called me sister, when she said she had Kaelen’s blood in her veins—part of me wanted to believe her. Not because I thought she was telling the truth. But because I wanted to believe that I wasn’t the only one who could matter to him. That I wasn’t the only one who could hurt him. That I wasn’t the only one who could break him.
And that terrifies me.
“I don’t need your protection,” I say, voice sharp. “I don’t need your blood. I don’t need your truth.”
“No?” He leans in, his breath hot on my skin. “Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you run when you had the chance? Why didn’t you vanish into the tunnels and let the war burn without you?”
“Because I have a mission.”
“And what if your mission is gone?” He steps back, opening the box again. “What if the ledger isn’t enough? What if the Council discredits it? What if Vexis walks free? What if you walk free—and realize you don’t know who you are without the hate?”
My breath stops.
Because he’s not just asking.
He’s knowing.
He sees me. Not the mask. Not the fire. Not the vengeance. Me. The girl who watched her mother die. The woman who spent her life believing she had to be harder, colder, more—because if she wasn’t, she’d be taken. Used. Broken.
And now—
I don’t know how to stop.
“I’m not done,” I whisper.
“Then fight,” he says, closing the box. “But fight with your eyes open. Fight with your truth. Not with poison. Not with lies. Not with her.”
—
He leaves again.
Not because I asked.
Because he knows I need space.
I spend the night awake, my back burning, my magic flickering, my mind racing. I replay every moment—Mira’s smile, the needle, the way my body went numb, the way I fell. I think of the Oracle’s warning: Trust no one. Not even your blood. I think of Orin, of his quiet strength, of the way he gave me the schematics, of the way he looked at me when I asked if he betrayed my mother.
And then—
At dawn, the news comes.
Not through whispers. Not through shadows.
Through the Spire’s central crystal—a massive, pulsing orb embedded in the Council Hall, used to broadcast official decrees, executions, and scandals.
My name flashes across it.
Lady Selene, mate of Kaelen Dain, accused of treason.
Then—
A video.
Not live. Not recent.
A recording.
Dark. Grainy. But clear enough.
Kaelen.
In his chambers.
His shirt unbuttoned. His chest bare.
And Mira.
On her knees.
Her lips pressed to his stomach. Her hands on his hips. Her eyes closed, her face flushed with something that looks like ecstasy.
And him—
His head tilted back. His eyes closed. His hands in her hair.
Not pushing her away.
Not stopping her.
Touching her.
The video cuts. A voiceover—smooth, cold, deliberate.
“The Alpha of the Northern Packs, bound by duty to Lady Selene, was seen in an intimate encounter with Mira Solen, Fae-Vampire hybrid and Council advisor, just hours before the attack on Lord Vexis’s estate. Was this betrayal premeditated? Was the assault a cover-up? Or is the so-called ‘mate’ nothing more than a pawn in a deeper game?”
My breath stops.
My magic flares—red-gold flame that licks up my arms, searing the air.
And then—
Laughter.
Not mine.
From the corridor.
Soft. Sweet. Victorious.
I don’t think.
I just move.
—
I find her in the East Garden—a secluded courtyard of black roses and silver thorns, bathed in the cold light of dawn. She’s sitting on a stone bench, her platinum hair cascading over one shoulder, her violet eyes gleaming with something sharp and dangerous. She’s not in armor. Not in blood-stained silk.
She’s in white.
Pure. Innocent. Untouchable.
And she’s smiling.
“Zara,” she says, voice like silk over steel. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“You’re dead,” I say, stepping forward, fire dancing in my palms. “You were disgraced. Exiled. You don’t belong here.”
“And yet, here I am.” She tilts her head. “The Council sees me as a victim. A woman used by a powerful Alpha. A woman who tried to warn them about your instability. About your lies.”
“You forged that video.”
“Did I?” She smiles. “Or did I simply reveal the truth? The truth that he touched me. That he let me worship him. That he whispered my name in the dark?”
“He was drugged.”
“And yet, he didn’t stop me.” She rises, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who can read a man’s body? You think you’re the only one who can feel the heat between them? He wanted me. Just for a moment. Just for a breath. But he did.”
My magic flares—hot, violent, hungry.
“You don’t get to do this,” I say, voice low. “You don’t get to twist the truth. You don’t get to use him. You don’t get to use me.”
“And yet, I am.” She steps closer, her scent flooding me—jasmine, blood, something darker. “You think the Council will believe you? A hybrid witch with a forged identity? A woman who attacked a Council member? A woman who’s been seen burning her way through enforcers, screaming his name like a madwoman?”
“They’ll believe the ledger.”
“They’ll say it’s forged.” She smiles. “Just like your claim. Just like your bond. Just like your love.”
“It’s not love,” I snap. “It’s the bond.”
“Is it?” She tilts her head. “Then why do you care? Why are you here? Why are you shaking?”
My breath hitches.
Because she’s right.
And I hate that.
“You’re jealous,” she says, stepping closer. “You’re afraid. You’re broken. And you know what?” She leans in, her breath cold on my skin. “He’ll never love a half-breed. Not truly. Not like he could love me. Not like he could love a woman of pure blood, of power, of grace.”
Fire erupts in my veins.
Not magic.
Rage.
I raise my hand.
Fire roars to life—red-gold flame that sears the air, forcing her back.
“You don’t know him,” I say, voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know the bond. You don’t know what we’ve survived. And you don’t know what I’ll do to anyone who tries to take him from me.”
She doesn’t flinch.
Just smiles.
“Then prove it,” she whispers. “Burn me. Kill me. And give them exactly what they want—a monster. A killer. A witch who can’t control her fire.”
I freeze.
Because she’s not wrong.
If I kill her, they’ll say I’m unstable. Dangerous. Unfit to be his mate.
If I let her live, they’ll say I’m weak. Insecure. Jealous.
And either way—
She wins.
—
I don’t burn her.
I don’t touch her.
I just turn and walk away.
But I don’t go back to the chambers.
I go to the training yard.
I need to move. To fight. To burn.
The yard is empty—just the scent of steel and sweat, the echo of blades, the cold mountain wind biting through my tunic. I draw my dagger, the moonsteel catching the light, and begin to move.
Not a form. Not a drill.
A storm.
Spins. Thrusts. Cuts. Every motion sharp, precise, lethal. My magic flares—just beneath my skin, just enough to ignite the blade, to make it burn with red-gold fire. I don’t think. Don’t feel. Just move.
And then—
Footsteps.
Not soft. Not hesitant.
Heavy.
I don’t stop.
Don’t turn.
Just keep moving.
“Zara.”
Kaelen’s voice.
Low. Rough. Concerned.
“You saw it,” I say, not stopping. “The video.”
“It’s fake.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I need to fight.” I spin, the blade slicing through the air. “Because I need to burn.”
“Then fight me.”
I freeze.
Turn.
He’s standing at the edge of the yard, his storm-gray eyes locked on me, his body coiled like a spring. No shirt. No armor. Just black trousers, his chest bare, the scars from the Blood Pit still fresh, still raw.
“You don’t want to do that,” I say, voice low.
“No?” He steps forward, claws extending, fangs baring. “You think I don’t know what you’re feeling? You think I don’t know the fire in your veins? The need to destroy? The fear that she’s right?”
“She’s not.”
“Then prove it.” He moves—fast, silent, a shadow in the dark. “Fight me. Not as my mate. Not as my equal. As my enemy. As the woman who came here to burn the Council to the ground. As the one who doesn’t need me. As the one who can walk away.”
My breath hitches.
Because he’s not just challenging me.
He’s freeing me.
So I do.
I lunge.
Fire roars from my blade, searing the air, forcing him back. He dodges—fast, graceful—then counters, claws slashing, fangs bared. I spin, the blade singing, fire licking at his skin. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull back. Just fights.
Not to win.
To see.
And I let him.
I fight like I’ve never fought before—wild, furious, free. No control. No restraint. Just fire and fury and the truth of who I am. He matches me—every strike, every dodge, every breath. We move like storm and fire, like wolf and witch, like two halves of the same soul.
And then—
I see it.
Not his strength.
Not his power.
His fear.
In the way his eyes watch me. In the way his body tenses when I get too close. In the way his claws retract just before they could draw blood.
He’s not fighting to win.
He’s fighting to keep me alive.
So I stop.
Lower the blade.
Step back.
“You don’t have to protect me,” I say, voice raw.
“I’m not.” He lowers his claws. “I’m fighting you. Because you’re the only one who can break me. And I’m the only one who can break you.”
My breath hitches.
“And if I walk away?” I ask.
“Then I’ll follow.” He steps closer, his hand lifting to my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “And if you burn the world, I’ll stand in the ashes with you. And if you choose to hate me, I’ll love you anyway.”
My heart stutters.
“You don’t get to say that,” I whisper.
“I do.” His hand slides to my neck—not choking, not hurting. Claiming. “Because you’re mine. And no matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you run—you’ll never belong to anyone else.”
“I don’t belong to you.”
“Liar.” He leans in, his lips hovering over mine. “You’re already mine. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”
And before I can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving me trembling in the shadows, my body humming with the ghost of his touch, my mind screaming one word—
Yes.
—
That night, I dream of fire.
Of him.
Of a mark burning into my skin, of fangs at her throat, of a voice whispering, “You’re mine.”
I wake drenched in sweat, my heart racing, my body aching.
And in the silence, beneath the fury and the fear and the mission—
I feel it.
The truth.
The bond.
And the fire that will either consume us both…
Or make us unbreakable.
—
The next morning, I pack.
Not to run.
Not to hide.
To fight.
Leather armor. Moonsteel dagger. Bloodwine flask. The ledger, wrapped in fireproof cloth.
And the vial—Vexis’s blood, proof of the poison, proof of the lie.
When Kaelen walks in, I don’t look at him.
Just keep packing.
“You’re leaving,” he says, voice low.
“No.” I close the bag. “I’m going to war.”
He doesn’t argue.
Just steps behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his breath warm on my neck.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He turns me, his storm-gray eyes locking onto mine. “But I want to. Because you’re not alone. Because you’re not broken. Because you’re mine.”
My breath hitches.
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll follow anyway.” He pulls me into him, one arm around my back, the other cradling my head, shielding me. “Because this isn’t just your war. It’s ours.”
And for the first time, I believe it.
The bond hums between us—steady, strong, unbroken.
And I know—
This isn’t the end.
This is the beginning.
Of the truth.
Of the fire.
Of us.