The silence after the Council vote is louder than any scream.
Not peace. Not victory. Tension. Thick, coiled, ready to snap. The runes on the ceiling still glow—faint, pulsing, like a heartbeat beneath stone—but the chamber feels hollow now. The Oracle has retreated into shadow. The Vampire Elder has vanished, his crimson eyes burning with promise. Vexis was dragged away, his laughter echoing down the corridors, low and wet and wrong. And the Fae representative? She didn’t leave. Just sat there, her violet gaze locked on me, her lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
And then—
She spoke.
Not to the Council.
To me.
“You think you’ve won,” she said, rising from her throne. “But you’ve only lit the fuse. The Purity Edict may fall, but the bloodlines will not mix without war. And when the fire comes—” Her eyes flicked to Kaelen. “—will he still stand beside you? Or will he remember what he is?”
I didn’t answer.
Just held her gaze until she turned and walked away, her silk robes whispering over stone like a curse.
Now, as we stand in the corridor outside the Hall, the weight of it all presses down—like the mountain above us, like the centuries of lies beneath us, like the bond between us, humming, alive, terrifying.
Kaelen’s hand is on my lower back, warm, steady, a brand through my tunic. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. I can feel it in the bond—the pride, the fear, the fierce, unshakable need to protect me. But I don’t need protection.
Not from him.
Not from the Council.
Not from the war that’s coming.
But I do need to move.
“I’m going to the training yard,” I say, stepping away.
He doesn’t stop me.
Just nods. “Take Riven. And the dagger.”
“I don’t need a guard.”
“No.” His hand lifts, fingers brushing my cheek. “But you might need a witness.”
I don’t ask what he means.
Just turn and walk away, the moonsteel dagger at my hip, the silver one—my mother’s—tucked into my boot.
And the fire in my veins.
Always the fire.
—
The training 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 moonsteel dagger, the blade catching the dim 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.
Light.
Like silk over stone.
I don’t stop.
Don’t turn.
Just keep moving.
“Zara.”
Her voice.
Sweet. Melodic. Deadly.
Mira.
I freeze.
Turn.
She’s standing at the edge of the yard, 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.
“I was hoping you’d come,” she says, voice like silk over steel. “I’ve been waiting.”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I say, my blade still raised, fire dancing in my palm. “You were disgraced. Exiled. You don’t belong in the Spire.”
“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 the 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 steps closer, her scent flooding me—jasmine, blood, something darker. “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 eyes locking onto mine. “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.
Just turn and walk away.
But I don’t go back to the chambers.
I go to the cliffs.
Not the training yard. Not the tunnels. Not the Spire.
The edge.
Where the wind bites through my tunic, where the stars burn cold and bright, where the city of Veridian Spire sprawls below, a web of light and shadow. I don’t speak. Don’t move. Just stand there, the silver dagger in my hand, the fire in my veins.
And then—
She’s behind me.
Not silent.
Not careful.
But there.
“You can’t run from me,” she says, her voice soft, almost sad. “You can’t burn me away. I’m in his blood. In his dreams. In the way he looks at you—like he’s still wondering if you’re enough.”
My fingers tighten on the dagger.
“You don’t know him,” I say, not turning. “You don’t know the bond.”
“But I know you,” she whispers. “I know 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.”
My breath hitches.
“And now,” she continues, “you’ve found someone who sees you. Who wants you. Who needs you. And you’re terrified. Because if he leaves, if he chooses me, if he realizes you’re not enough—”
I turn.
Fast.
And the dagger is at her throat before she can blink.
“Say that again,” I whisper, pressing the blade to her skin. “Say I’m not enough. And I’ll cut out your tongue.”
She doesn’t flinch.
Just smiles.
“You won’t,” she says. “Because you’re not a killer. Not really. You’re a survivor. A fighter. But not a murderer.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you better than you know yourself.” Her hand lifts, fingers brushing the blade. “You think you’ve won. You think the bond is real. You think he loves you. But deep down—you’re still that little girl. Still afraid. Still alone. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
My fangs lengthen.
My claws erupt.
My magic flares—red-gold flame licking up my arms, searing the air.
And then—
She moves.
Fast.
Not away.
Toward me.
Her hand flashes—a silver needle between her fingers, laced with the same poison that nearly took me in the Blood Pit.
But I’m faster.
I shift—just enough to dodge, the needle grazing my cheek, a thin line of blood welling at the edge.
And then—
The bond flares.
Not a pulse.
Not a whisper.
A roar.
Heat rips through me—down my arm, across my chest, pooling between my thighs. My fangs lengthen. My claws erupt. My magic flares, red-gold flame licking up my skin. I gasp, my body arching, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Mira freezes.
Not in fear.
In triumph.
“You see?” she whispers. “The poison still works. The bond still weakens you. And he’ll see it. He’ll know. And he’ll wonder—” Her eyes flick to the city below. “—if I’m the one who should be at his side.”
My breath hitches.
But I don’t falter.
Just press the dagger deeper.
“You think I care what he wonders?” I say, voice low, dangerous. “You think I need his approval? His protection? His love?”
“Then why are you here?” she asks, her voice trembling. “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’m not you,” I say. “I’m not a liar. I’m not a manipulator. I’m not a coward.”
And then—
I push.
Not the dagger.
Not the fire.
The truth.
My free hand flies to her chest, fingers pressing over her heart. My magic surges—not to burn, not to destroy, but to reveal.
Red-gold flame erupts from my palm, searing through her silk gown, through her skin, through her flesh—
And into her memory.
She screams.
Not from pain.
From exposure.
I see it—flashes of truth, raw and unfiltered. Her in Kaelen’s chambers. The needle. The paralysis. The way his body responded—against his will. The way she recorded it. The way she smiled as she uploaded it to the Council crystal. The way she whispered in his ear: “You’ll never love her. You’ll never belong to her. You’re mine.”
And then—
I see more.
Vexis. In the shadows. Watching. Smiling. Handing her the needle. The serum. The orders.
She wasn’t acting alone.
She was his weapon.
And now—
She’s mine.
“You were used,” I say, pulling my hand back, the flame dying. “Just like him. Just like me. But you didn’t fight. You didn’t resist. You chose to be a weapon.”
She sags, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror.
“I loved him,” she whispers.
“No,” I say. “You loved the idea of him. The power. The status. You wanted to be the Alpha’s mate. You wanted to be seen. But you don’t love him. And he doesn’t love you.”
“He will,” she says, voice breaking. “He’ll come back. He’ll see the truth. He’ll—”
“No.” I press the dagger to her throat again. “He won’t. Because you’re not in his blood. You’re not in his dreams. You’re not in the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing keeping him human.”
She stares at me.
And for the first time—
I see it.
Not hatred.
Not fury.
Loss.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
And then—
I hear it.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Heavy.
Kaelen.
I don’t turn.
Don’t move.
Just keep the dagger at her throat.
He stops behind me.
His breath warm on my neck.
His scent flooding me—pine, iron, smoke, him.
“Zara,” he says, voice low. “Let her go.”
“No.”
“She’s not worth it.”
“She tried to kill me.”
“And you’ve already won.” He steps closer, his hand lifting to my shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to her. Not to the Council. Not to me.”
My breath hitches.
“I’m not proving anything,” I say. “I’m ending it.”
“Then let me do it.”
I turn.
His storm-gray eyes are gold, his fangs bared, his claws extended. Not in rage. Not in control.
In trust.
He takes the dagger from my hand.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
Like it’s his.
Like I’m his.
And then—
He moves.
Fast.
One hand grabs Mira by the throat, the other slamming her into the cliff’s edge, the stone cracking beneath her back.
“You used me,” he growls, his fangs at her neck. “You poisoned her. You lied. You tried to destroy us.”
She doesn’t speak.
Just stares at him, her eyes wide, her breath shallow.
“And you think I’ll forgive you?” he whispers. “You think I’ll spare you because you claim to love me? You’re not my mate. You’re not my equal. You’re not even my enemy. You’re a pawn. A tool. A nothing.”
She whimpers.
And then—
He bites.
Not to mark.
Not to kill.
To claim.
A shallow bite. A mark. A warning.
And then—
He throws her.
Not over the edge.
But to the ground.
“Leave,” he says, voice cold. “If I see you in the Spire again, I’ll kill you. And this time—” His eyes flick to me. “—I won’t stop her.”
She doesn’t move.
Just lies there, blood dripping from her neck, her body trembling.
And then—
She crawls away.
Not with dignity.
Not with pride.
With shame.
And when she’s gone—
I turn to him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Yes,” he says, stepping into me, his hands on my waist, his breath warm on my neck. “I did. Because you’re mine. And no one touches what’s mine and lives.”
My breath hitches.
“And if I had killed her?”
“Then I’d have stood beside you,” he says. “And told the world you were right.”
And then—
He kisses me.
No warning. No hesitation. Just heat and need and something deeper—something fierce, something protective. His lips are rough, demanding, his tongue sliding against mine like a claim. I gasp, my hands flying to his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on.
He tastes like smoke and iron and something darker—something ancient and wild. The kiss is slow, deep, a collision of fire and fury. His fangs graze my lip, just enough to sting, just enough to make me whimper.
And then—
He breaks the kiss.
Steps back.
His breath comes in ragged gasps. His lips are swollen. His body aches. His core throbs with a need so deep it feels like a wound.
“You feel that?” he asks, voice rough. “That fire? That need? That’s not her. That’s us.”
“You don’t get to do that,” I whisper.
“I do.” He steps closer, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Because you’re mine. And no matter how much you hate me, no matter how much you fight it—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.