I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m sitting in the war room beneath the Iron Court, my fingers laced with Kael’s, our magic still humming between us like a storm that refuses to pass. The blood oath is sealed. The Fae ultimatum is rejected. The bond burns hotter than ever, pulsing beneath my skin, a golden thread woven through my blood, my breath, my dreams. I should be afraid. I should be questioning everything. I should be calculating my next move, my next betrayal, my next strike.
But I’m not.
Because for the first time in ten years, I don’t feel like a weapon.
I feel like a woman.
A woman who loves a monster.
A woman who chose him over her mother’s memory.
A woman who doesn’t want to be free.
The war room is carved from black stone, the walls etched with ancient runes that glow faintly with power. Maps of Atheria are spread across the table—Iron Court, Crimson Spire, Lumin Vale, Ashen Circle—each marked with sigils of alliance, threat, and betrayal. Riven stands at the far end, his arms crossed, his gaze sharp. Thorne’s name is circled in red ink. So is Elder Veylin’s. And mine.
Good.
Let them know I’m coming.
Kael doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just sits beside me, his presence a storm, his hand warm around mine. His gold eyes are locked on the maps, but I know he’s not seeing them. He’s seeing me. The way I stood before the Fae High Court. The way I raised my hand and set the runes ablaze. The way I kissed him afterward—hard, desperate, real—like I was staking a claim.
Like I was declaring war.
“They’ll retaliate,” Riven says, voice low. “The Fae don’t back down. Not from blood debts. Not from oaths broken.”
“Then let them come,” Kael says, voice rough. “We’re ready.”
“Are we?” Riven asks. “They have the High Court. The ancient oaths. The power of the old magic. And they’ll use Morgana’s blood against us.”
“They already tried,” I say. “And failed.”
“This time,” Riven says, “they won’t poison you. They’ll curse you. Bind you. Summon the spirits of your ancestors to turn you against him.”
My breath catches.
Because he’s right.
The Fae don’t fight with blades.
They fight with memory.
With guilt.
With the weight of blood.
Kael turns to me, his gold eyes burning. “You don’t have to do this,” he says. “You could leave. Start over. Be free.”
“I am free,” I say, squeezing his hand. “Because I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding. I’m not pretending I don’t love you.”
He stills.
His breath catches.
And then—
He pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just holds me.
And for the first time, I believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
The door bursts open.
Lyra steps inside, her dark hair braided with silver thread, her green eyes sharp. She doesn’t look at Riven. Doesn’t bow to Kael. Just walks straight to me, her boots silent on the stone.
“We need to talk,” she says.
Kael tenses. “Alone?”
“No,” I say, standing. “Whatever she has to say, you can hear it too.”
Lyra studies me. Then nods. “Thorne sent word. He wants to meet. In the lower tunnels. At midnight.”
“It’s a trap,” Riven says.
“Maybe,” Lyra says. “Or maybe he’s the only one who can give us the truth.”
“What truth?” Kael asks.
“About her mother,” Lyra says, her gaze locked on mine. “About the night she died. About why the High Court framed her.”
My breath stops.
Because I’ve spent ten years believing one thing.
That Kael killed her.
That he burned the temple.
That he stole her circlet and declared war on the Fae.
But what if I was wrong?
What if the truth is worse?
“Why would Thorne tell us?” I ask.
“Because he wants you,” Lyra says. “Not just your blood. Not just your power. But your trust. Your loyalty. And he knows the only way to get it is to give you the truth.”
Kael stands, his presence a wall of heat and power. “I’m going with you.”
“No,” Lyra says. “He said you can’t come. Only her.”
“Then it’s a trap,” Riven says.
“Maybe,” Lyra says. “Or maybe it’s the only chance you’ll ever get to know what really happened.”
Silence.
The runes on the walls pulse faintly, reacting to the tension in the air. The bond hums between us—stronger, deeper, hungrier. I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“I’ll go,” I say.
“No,” Kael says, turning to me. “I won’t let you walk into a trap.”
“You don’t get to decide this,” I say, stepping closer. “Not anymore. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your pawn. I’m not your prisoner. I’m your mate. And if there’s a chance—any chance—that I can finally know the truth—” My voice breaks. “—I have to take it.”
He stares at me—gold eyes burning, possessive, knowing.
And then—
He nods.
“But I’ll be close,” he says. “If you scream, I’ll be there.”
“You won’t hear me,” I say. “The tunnels are warded. Sound doesn’t carry.”
“Then I’ll feel it,” he says, pressing his palm to the mating mark on my chest. “If you’re in danger, the bond will flare. And I’ll come. No matter what.”
I don’t answer.
Just press my forehead to his, my breath warm against his lips. “I love you,” I whisper. “And I’ll come back to you.”
He doesn’t let go.
Just holds me—tight, desperate, real—like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
And then—
I pull away.
The lower tunnels are a maze of black stone, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old magic. Torches line the walls, their flames flickering with unnatural blue at the edges. The runes on the floor pulse faintly, reacting to my presence, to my blood, to the bond. I walk slowly, my bare feet silent on the stone, my heart pounding, my pulse racing.
And then—
I see him.
Thorne.
He stands at the center of the chamber, his black coat billowing like wings, his pale skin glowing in the torchlight. His black eyes lock onto mine, cold, calculating. But there’s something else there. Something I’ve never seen before.
Pity.
“You came,” he says, voice smooth, dark.
“You said you had the truth,” I say, stepping forward. “About my mother.”
“I do,” he says. “But you won’t like it.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I need to know.”
He studies me. Then nods. “Your mother wasn’t executed for treason.”
My breath catches.
“She was executed for refusing to commit it.”
“What?”
“The Fae High Court wanted her to betray the werewolves,” he says. “To hand over the Blood Moon Treaty before it was signed. To give them the power to control the other species. But she refused. She said it would start a war. That it would destroy us all.”
My hands tremble.
“And when she wouldn’t comply,” Thorne continues, “they framed her. They made it look like she was the one who wanted war. That she was plotting with the witches to overthrow the Council. And to make it believable—” He steps closer. “—they needed a monster. A king who would burn her temple. Who would declare her a traitor. Who would take her circlet and wear it like a trophy.”
“Kael,” I whisper.
“He didn’t kill her,” Thorne says. “He watched her die. He lit the pyre to hide the truth. He took the blame so the peace wouldn’t shatter. So you could live.”
Tears spill down my face.
“He let you believe he was the monster,” Thorne says. “So you’d survive. So you’d grow strong. So one day, you could come back—and destroy the real ones.”
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, voice breaking.
“Because I want you to see,” he says. “Not just the truth. But the choice. You can keep hating him. Keep believing he’s the monster. Or you can see him for what he really is.”
“And what’s that?”
“A man,” he says, “who loved you enough to let you hate him.”
I don’t answer.
Just collapse to my knees, my body trembling, my breath ragged. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on my chest glowing, the air crackling with magic. I see it now. The temple burning. The crowd roaring. Kael standing over her body, his face blank, his hands stained with blood.
But not her blood.
His.
He took the blade meant for her.
He let them believe he was the executioner.
And he let me believe it too.
“He did it for me,” I whisper.
“Yes,” Thorne says. “And now—” He steps closer, his voice dropping. “—you have to decide. Will you keep fighting the man who saved you? Or will you stand with him and destroy the ones who killed your mother?”
I look up at him—black eyes, pale skin, fangs just visible in the torchlight.
And I know—
This isn’t just about truth.
It’s about power.
About war.
About the future.
“You want me to choose,” I say.
“I want you to see,” he says. “And then choose.”
I don’t answer.
Just press my palm to the mating mark on my chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
And then—
I rise.
“I’ve already chosen,” I say, voice steady. “I chose him. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. But because I want to. Because I love him. Because he’s the only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m not just a weapon.”
Thorne studies me. Then smiles—slow, dark. “Then you’re ready.”
“For what?”
“The war,” he says. “Because it’s not coming.
It’s already here.”
I don’t flinch.
Just turn and walk away.
The tunnels blur. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps. My hands tremble. My vision blurs. I don’t stop. Don’t slow. Just keep moving, my bare feet silent on the stone, my heart pounding, my pulse racing.
And then—
I see him.
Kael.
He’s waiting at the edge of the tunnels, his presence a storm, his gold eyes burning. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches me—like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“You feel it,” I say, my voice breaking.
He nods. “The bond. The truth. The choice.”
“They didn’t kill her for treason,” I say. “She was executed for refusing to betray you. For refusing to start a war. And you—” My breath hitches. “—you let them believe you were the monster. So I’d live. So I’d grow strong. So I could come back and destroy them.”
He doesn’t deny it.
Just pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “I’d do it again,” he murmurs. “In a heartbeat.”
“You let me hate you,” I whisper.
“Because I loved you,” he says. “And sometimes, love means letting go. Even when it breaks you.”
Tears spill down my face.
“I came here to kill you,” I say, my voice breaking.
“And yet,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine, “you saved me.”
“I don’t want to be free,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be anyone else. I don’t want to be anything but yours.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just holds me.
And for the first time, I believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
“They’ll come for us,” I say, lifting my head.
“Let them,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Because if they do—” He leans in, his breath hot against my lips. “—we’ll burn them together.”
I don’t answer.
Just kiss him.
Not gentle.
Not sweet.
Violent.My mouth crashes into his, my fangs scraping his lips, my tongue claiming him like I own him. And he—
He kisses me back.
His hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer, his body arching into mine, his core aching, needing. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And I know—
This isn’t just love.
This is war.
And I’m ready to fight.
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.
Because I don’t want to be free.
Because I don’t want to be anything but his.