The silence after Amber left for the Unseelie Court was heavier than stone.
Not the kind that settles after a storm, but the kind that comes before one—the breath before the scream, the stillness before the blade falls. I stood at the edge of the forest, boots planted in frost-laced soil, my golden eyes scanning the tree line where she’d vanished into shadow with Lysara. One moment she was there—fire and defiance in her green eyes, her scent wild rose and storm clinging to the air—and the next, she was gone. Swallowed by the dark.
And the bond—
It didn’t scream.
It didn’t burn.
It just… pulsed.
Not with fear. Not with pain.
With distance.
Like a heartbeat echoing through a tunnel, growing fainter with every step she took away from me.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, my wolf snarling in my chest, my fangs elongated, my hands clenched into fists so tight the knuckles cracked. I could have followed. Could have torn through the veil between worlds, ripped open the Unseelie Court, dragged her back by force if I had to.
But she wouldn’t have forgiven me.
And worse—she wouldn’t have needed me.
Amber wasn’t weak. She wasn’t helpless. She was the strongest woman I’d ever known—fierce, brilliant, unbreakable. And this was her fight. Her debt. Her path.
So I let her go.
Not because I trusted the Fae.
Not because I believed in bargains.
But because I believed in her.
—
I returned to the palace in silence.
Not the tense, hostile quiet of our early days, but something deeper. Calmer. Like two warriors who’d just survived a battle and didn’t need words to know they stood back-to-back. Riven met me at the gate, his dark eyes sharp, his scent laced with tension.
“She’s gone,” I said before he could speak.
He nodded. “Lysara took her beyond the veil. No trace. No scent. Nothing.”
“Then we wait.”
“And if she doesn’t return?”
My jaw tightened. “Then I burn the Unseelie Court to ash.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. Just fell into step beside me as I strode through the corridors, my presence filling the stone halls like a storm. The pack felt it—my anger, my fear, my need—and they stayed out of my way. Even the Council kept their distance. Only Dain dared to speak, stepping from the shadows as I passed the war room.
“You let her go,” he said, voice cold. “The witch who came to destroy you. Who broke the curse. Who took your blood into her veins.”
I didn’t stop. Didn’t look at him. Just kept walking.
“You’re weak,” he continued. “Letting her make her own choices. Letting her walk into danger. A true Alpha would have commanded her. Controlled her. Owned her.”
That made me stop.
Slowly, I turned.
My fangs elongated. My golden eyes flared. The air around me shimmered with heat, with power, with the raw, unfiltered rage of an Alpha defending his mate.
“You don’t know her,” I said, voice low. “You don’t know the bond. And you don’t know what it means to lead.”
“And what does it mean?” he asked, stepping closer. “To let her go? To let her risk everything? To let her—”
I moved.
Fast. Blinding. One hand gripped his throat, lifting him off the ground, slamming him into the stone wall. His golden eyes widened, but I didn’t let go.
“It means,” I growled, “that I trust her. That I respect her. That I love her. And if you ever speak against her again—” my voice dropped to a whisper “—I’ll make sure you never speak at all.”
And then I let him go.
He didn’t fall. Just stood there, gasping, his hand at his throat, his scent laced with something darker.
Fear.
Good.
Let him fear me.
Let them all fear me.
Because I was done playing their games.
—
I didn’t go to our chambers.
Didn’t seek comfort. Didn’t drown in memories.
I went to the Heartstone.
The chamber was deep beneath the palace, carved into the mountain’s heart, its walls lined with ancient runes that pulsed faintly in time with the stone’s slow, steady beat. The Heartstone itself rose from the center—a jagged spire of black crystal veined with gold, its surface humming with power, with magic, with the weight of centuries.
It was dying.
I could feel it. Not just in the weakening light, not just in the way the runes flickered like dying embers. But in my blood. In my bones. In the way my strength ebbed with every passing day.
Without a true mate’s magic, the bond would fail.
And without the bond, I would fall.
And if I fell—
The pack would tear itself apart.
I stepped forward, boots echoing on stone, and placed my palm against the Heartstone.
Instantly, the magic surged—cold, sharp, hungry. It pulled at me, not just my strength, but my memories, my fears, my deepest, darkest truths. I didn’t resist. Let it take what it wanted. Let it show me what it needed.
And then—
It did.
—
The chamber vanished.
Not into darkness.
Into vision.
I saw her.
Amber.
Not in the Unseelie Court. Not in shadow or flame. But in the ruins—the cursed altar where the bond had first flared between us, where she’d bitten my lip and kissed me back, where the curse had reacted with a scream of black fire.
She stood before the Heartstone, her hands pressed to its surface, her green eyes blazing with power, her magic spiraling in wild green light. And in her other hand—
A dagger.
Not just any dagger.
The one from the ritual. The one forged in vampire and witch blood. The one that could sever the bond, break the curse, destroy the Heartstone.
“No,” I whispered, but no sound came.
And then—
She plunged it in.
The stone cracked. The runes shattered. The gold veins turned black, then gray, then dust. The curse—centuries old, woven into the bloodline, into the land, into the very soul of the pack—began to unravel.
And I—
I fell.
Not to my knees.
To my death.
My body convulsed. My fangs retracted. My golden eyes dimmed. The power—the strength—the rage—it all bled out of me, leaving only a shell. A man. A broken king.
And she—
She didn’t run.
Didn’t flee.
She stepped forward.
One hand lifted. Brushed my cheek—just once. A single point of contact, searing through the cold.
And then—
She knelt.
Not in sorrow.
Not in regret.
In victory.
“It’s over,” she said, voice low. “The curse is broken. The bond is gone. You’re free.”
I tried to speak. Tried to reach for her. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t be.
And then—
She stood.
Turned.
And walked away.
Not looking back.
Not hesitating.
Just gone.
And I—
I died.
Alone.
Forgotten.
Nothing.
—
The vision shattered.
I gasped, stumbling back from the Heartstone, my hand flying to my chest, my breath ragged, my body trembling. The chamber came back into focus—the runes, the stone, the torches—but the echo of the vision clung to me like a curse.
She’d killed me.
Not with malice.
Not with hatred.
But with purpose.
And the worst part?
I’d let her.
Because in that moment, in that final breath, I hadn’t hated her.
I hadn’t cursed her.
I’d loved her.
Even as I died.
Even as she walked away.
Even as the world burned.
—
I didn’t move.
Just knelt there, my forehead pressed to the cold stone, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The bond hummed beneath my ribs—not with war, not with fear, but with something softer. Warmer. Need.
Amber.
She’d feel this. The vision. The truth. The way my heart cracked when I saw her—strong, fierce, *alive*—before she destroyed me.
But would she understand?
Would she know that I’d rather die in her arms than live without her?
Would she believe that the bond wasn’t a chain?
That it was a vow?
That it was love?
—
I don’t know how long I stayed there.
Minutes. Hours. Days.
Time didn’t matter.
Not when the truth was this heavy.
Eventually, Riven found me.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just stepped inside, boots silent on stone, and stood beside me, a sentinel, a brother, a pack.
“You saw it,” he said.
I didn’t answer. Just kept my forehead pressed to the stone.
“The future,” he said. “Where she breaks the curse. Where you die.”
“And she walks away,” I whispered.
“And you let her.”
I finally looked at him. “Because I love her.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just stared at me—dark eyes sharp, unreadable.
“And if she doesn’t come back?” he asked. “From the Unseelie Court? If she’s lost? If she’s dead?”
My chest tightened. “Then I’ll find her. In this world. In the next. In the ashes of the curse. I’ll find her.”
“And if she comes back,” he said, “but still chooses to destroy the Heartstone? To break the bond? To end you?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’ll die,” I said. “But not before I make sure she knows—” my voice dropped “—that I’d burn the world for her. That I’d let her kill me. That I’d rather be nothing than be king without her.”
Riven didn’t speak. Didn’t argue. Just reached for me.
One hand gripped my shoulder—hard, firm, real. The other pressed against my chest, over my heart. “You’re not just my Alpha,” he said. “You’re my brother. My blood. My pack.”
And the bond—
It sang.
Not with war.
With truth.
—
I stood.
Not because I was ready.
Not because the pain was gone.
But because I had to.
Because I was still Alpha.
Still king.
Still hers.
And if she came back—if she stood before the Heartstone with that dagger in her hand—I wouldn’t stop her.
I’d look her in the eyes.
I’d tell her I loved her.
And I’d let her do it.
Because some chains aren’t meant to be broken.
Some bonds aren’t meant to be severed.
And some loves—
Are worth dying for.
—
But in the shadows, far beyond the Vale, a figure stands atop a crumbling tower, the wind howling around him.
Lord Vexis.
His pale fingers trace the edge of a black dagger, its runes glowing faintly. His eyes—like ice—scan the horizon.
“You’ve seen the truth,” he whispers. “You know what she’ll do.”
He smiles.
“But you haven’t faced the past yet.”