The journal burns against my hip like a brand.
I don’t stop running. Not when the smoke clings to my clothes, not when my shoulder stings from the blade, not when my lungs scream for clean air. I move through the underpaths like a ghost, silent, swift, every instinct screaming one word: survive.
They know.
The assassins—Council clean-up, Vexis’s hounds—they know I found the truth. They know I have my mother’s final message. And if they were willing to kill me in the Vault, they’ll come for me again. Soon. And next time, they won’t wait for shadows.
I reach the upper levels just as the first alarm echoes through the Spire—a deep, resonant chime that pulses through the stone like a war drum. The Vault’s breach has been detected. The fire. The broken seal. They’ll be hunting me now. Not just to silence me. To reclaim the journal. To erase the proof.
I need to get to Kaelen.
The thought hits me like a shock. Not run. Not hide. Go to him.
I don’t question it. I don’t analyze it. I just move.
Because for the first time, I’m not running from the bond.
I’m running toward it.
—
I find him in the Northern Wing, standing at the edge of the training grounds, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the glow of the fae lanterns. He’s in full armor, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, the other clenched at his side. The bond hums between us—faint, strained, like a wire stretched too tight.
He knows something’s wrong.
He turns before I speak.
His storm-gray eyes lock onto mine. Then drop to my shoulder—the blood, the singed fabric, the soot smudged on my cheek.
“You’re hurt,” he says, voice low, rough.
“I’m alive.” I step forward, pulling the journal from my belt and thrusting it toward him. “And I know the truth.”
He doesn’t take it. Doesn’t move. “What truth?”
“That you didn’t sign it.” My voice cracks. “That your blood was stolen. That they framed you. That my mother—” I swallow, the words like glass in my throat. “—she said you loved her like a sister. That you were betrayed. Just like me.”
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then—
His jaw tightens. His eyes darken. Not with anger. With pain.
“You went to the Vault,” he says, not a question.
“I had to know.”
“And now you do.” He steps forward, his hand lifting to my face, his thumb brushing the soot from my cheek. “And now they’ll come for you.”
“They already did.” I press the journal into his chest. “They ambushed me. Tried to take it. Said they’d study the bond. Take it from me.”
His fingers close around the journal, but his gaze stays on me. “You fought them.”
“I burned them.”
A flicker in his eyes. Pride. Possession. Need. “Of course you did.”
And then—
The alarm changes.
Not just one chime now.
A cascade. A warning. A fire.
We both turn.
Smoke.
Thick, black, billowing from the eastern spire—the Restricted Archive. Flames lick the high windows, casting flickering shadows across the courtyard. The air fills with the scent of burning parchment, of magic unraveling, of something ancient and forbidden being consumed.
“They’re destroying it,” I whisper.
“No.” Kaelen’s grip tightens on the journal. “They’re destroying proof.”
“The ledger,” I say, remembering my mother’s words. “It’s there. Behind the Council seal. Names. Dates. Everything they’ve buried.”
He looks at me. “You want it.”
“I need it.”
“It’s a trap.”
“I don’t care.”
He stares at me—really stares—like he’s seeing me for the first time. Not the mask. Not the lies. Not the vengeance. Just Zara. The woman who burns.
And then he nods.
“Stay behind me,” he says.
—
The Restricted Archive is chaos.
Flames roar through the aisles, consuming centuries of records, of spells, of secrets. The air is thick with smoke, the heat unbearable. Books explode into fire, their pages curling like dying moths. Scrolls ignite midair, turning to ash before they hit the floor. The floating candles have shattered, their flames now wild, leaping from shelf to shelf, devouring everything in their path.
We move fast, Kaelen in front, his body shielding mine, his senses scanning for threats. The bond flares between us—stronger now, sharper—like it’s feeding on the fire, on the danger, on the truth we’re chasing.
“There,” I say, pointing to the back of the chamber, where a massive iron door stands sealed with the Council’s sigil—a serpent coiled around a moon. “Behind that.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
He slams his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. On the third, the lock splinters, and it bursts open, revealing a narrow vault—stone walls, iron shelves, and in the center—
A ledger.
Leather-bound. Ancient. The cover marked with a single word: Erased.
I rush forward, grabbing it, flipping it open. Names. Dates. Causes of death. All hybrids. All executed. All signed with the Council’s sigil. And there—
Lysara Ember. Sentence carried out by Council Enforcer K.D. Blood confirmation: verified.
But beneath it—
A note, in different ink. Fainter. Older. Forged. Blood stolen. K.D. not present.
Proof.
Real, undeniable proof.
“We have it,” I whisper, clutching the ledger to my chest. “We can expose them. We can—”
Then—
A sound.
Not from the fire.
Not from the crumbling shelves.
From the doorway.
Laughter.
Cold. Familiar.
“I knew you’d come.”
Vexis steps into the vault, dressed in black silk, his crimson eyes glowing in the firelight. He’s not alone. Two vampire enforcers flank him, their fangs bared, their hands gripping silver daggers.
Kaelen moves instantly, stepping in front of me, his body a wall. “You set this fire,” he growls.
“Of course I did.” Vexis smiles. “You think I’d let the truth survive? That I’d let a half-breed witch and a broken Alpha dismantle centuries of order?”
“It’s not order,” I say, stepping around Kaelen, the ledger still in my arms. “It’s tyranny. And we have the proof.”
“Do you?” He tilts his head. “And who will believe you? The Council? The packs? The covens? You’re a hybrid. He’s a liability. You think they’ll trust the word of a dying bloodline and a cursed beast?”
“They’ll believe the records,” Kaelen says.
“Records can be forged.” Vexis takes a step forward. “Just like your signature was.”
My blood runs cold.
He’s right.
They’ll say it’s fake. They’ll say we manipulated it. They’ll say the bond has clouded our judgment.
And without witnesses, without a public revelation—
It won’t matter.
“Then we’ll burn it all,” I say, lifting the ledger. “Every last page. Every lie. Every name. I’ll turn this city to ash before I let you keep it.”
“Go ahead.” Vexis smiles. “Burn it. And I’ll have you executed for destroying Council property. And him—” He gestures to Kaelen. “—I’ll let the bond fever take him. Let him go feral. Let him tear apart everyone he loves before he dies screaming.”
Kaelen doesn’t flinch. But I feel it—the bond, pulsing with tension, with rage, with the first flicker of something darker. Fever.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, stepping forward. “You don’t have to be their weapon. You created the Marked Alphas. You made him what he is. But you don’t own him.”
“I own everything,” Vexis says. “Including you.”
Before I can react, he snaps his fingers.
The enforcers move.
One lunges at Kaelen. The other at me.
But Kaelen is faster.
He shifts—just partially, claws erupting from his fingers, fangs lengthening—and slams into the first enforcer, tearing through his chest with a single swipe. Blood sprays the wall.
The second enforcer reaches me—
I drop the ledger and ignite.
Fire explodes from my palms, a wave of heat and light that slams into him, sending him crashing into the shelves. He screams as the flames catch his cloak, rolling, thrashing, but I don’t watch. I spin, grabbing the ledger, then turn to Kaelen—
“We have to go!”
But Vexis is already moving.
He raises a hand—
And the ceiling collapses.
Stone and fire and burning timber crash down between us, cutting off the exit. Kaelen and I are on one side. Vexis and the dying enforcer on the other.
“You’re not leaving,” Vexis says, stepping back. “Burn together. Like you were always meant to.”
Then he’s gone, vanishing into the smoke.
The fire roars.
The vault is collapsing.
And we’re trapped.
—
“Zara.”
Kaelen’s voice is low, urgent. He’s at my side now, his hand on my arm, his eyes scanning the flames. “We need to move. Now.”
“The ledger—”
“Leave it.” He grabs my wrist, pulling me toward a narrow service passage I hadn’t noticed—dark, half-collapsed, but passable. “It’s not worth your life.”
“It’s everything!” I snap, yanking my arm free. “It’s proof! It’s justice! It’s—”
“It’s burning,” he growls, stepping into me, caging me against the wall. “And if you don’t move, you’ll be burning with it.”
My breath hitches. His scent—pine, iron, smoke—floods me. The bond flares, a wave of heat rolling through me, pooling between my thighs. My body betrays me, arching into him, seeking more.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “I came here to destroy them. To avenge her. To make them pay.”
“And you will.” His hand slides to my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “But not like this. Not dead.”
“You let them kill her!” The words tear from my throat before I can stop them. “You were there! You watched them take her! You did nothing!”
He freezes.
Then—
“I didn’t.” His voice is quiet. Final. “I was drugged. Bound. They used my blood to forge my signature, to confirm the execution. I woke up in a cell, my memories wiped, my name on an order I never gave. And when I found out what they’d done—” His hand tightens on my face. “—I wanted to burn the Council to the ground. But I couldn’t. Because if I fell, there’d be no one left to protect the ones they’d come for next.”
My breath stops.
“I loved her,” he says, voice rough. “Like a sister. Like family. And when they took her, they took a piece of me too. But I stayed. I fought. I survived. Because someone had to.”
Tears burn my eyes.
All this time—I’ve hated him. Blamed him. Let the bond twist me into someone I hate.
And he’s been fighting the same war.
“You didn’t sign it,” I whisper.
“No.”
“You didn’t confirm it.”
“No.”
“You were framed.”
“Just like you.”
And then—
The wall explodes.
Flames surge through the passage, cutting off the exit. The heat is unbearable. The air thick with smoke. The ceiling groans, ready to collapse.
“Kaelen—”
He doesn’t let me finish.
He pulls me into him, one arm wrapping around my back, the other cradling my head, shielding me as debris rains down. The bond screams between us—hot, violent, alive. I can feel his heart, his breath, his need.
And then—
His mouth crashes down on mine.
No warning. No hesitation. Just heat and teeth and desperation. 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 brutal, raw, a collision of fire and fury. His fangs graze my lip, just enough to sting, just enough to make me whimper.
And then—
I bite him back.
My teeth sink into his lower lip, drawing blood. He growls, the sound vibrating through me, his grip tightening, his body pressing me against the wall.
And then—
His fangs find my neck.
Not breaking the skin.
Not marking me.
Just there. A promise. A threat. A need so deep it feels like a wound.
I don’t pull away.
I tilt my head, baring my throat.
And he takes it.
The bite is sharp, searing, a burst of pain and pleasure that tears a cry from my throat. Fire explodes in my veins, not from magic—from the bond, from the claim, from the truth.
He marks me.
Right there, in the smoke, in the fire, in the ruins of the archive.
A pulse of heat. A rush of power. A scream of triumph from the bond.
And then—
He pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with something feral, something mine.
“You’re mine,” he breathes, his thumb brushing the fresh mark on my collarbone. “And I will never let you go.”