The war room felt different the moment I stepped inside.
Not colder. Not darker. But charged—like the air before a storm, thick with the weight of decisions not yet made, of truths not yet spoken. The runes etched into the floor pulsed faintly beneath my boots, reacting to the bond, to my presence, to the fire that lived in my veins. Maps of the Concord’s territories hung from the walls, marked with red ink where the Shadow Pact had struck, where Dusk Fae assassins had infiltrated, where hybrid uprisings had flared like wildfire in dry grass. The scent of frost and iron clung to the stone, sharp and familiar.
And then—
Him.
Kaelen stood at the far end of the war table, his back to me, his coat dusted with snow, his silver eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. But I could feel him—the bond flaring beneath my skin, a pulse of heat that matched my heartbeat, a whisper in my blood that said, You’re here. You came.
I didn’t want to come.
I wanted to stay in the library, buried in scrolls, lost in the past, where the pain was old and predictable. I wanted to forget the way his hands had slid up my thighs in the Bonding Chamber, the way his mouth had brushed my neck, the way I’d moaned—low, broken, unfiltered—when his fingers had touched the edge of my panties.
I wanted to forget that I hadn’t stopped him.
That I’d wanted him to keep going.
But Silas had been right.
I couldn’t hide. Couldn’t run. Not anymore. The Shadow Pact had taken hostages. Demanded the release of the prisoners. And if we walked into that market blind, we’d lose more than lives—we’d lose the war before it had even begun.
“You wanted to see me,” I said, voice low, steady. “So talk.”
He turned then, slow, deliberate, his gaze locking onto mine. Cold. Assessing. But beneath it—something else. Heat. Awareness. The bond flared between us, a wave of energy that made my skin prickle, my breath hitch.
“The Shadow Pact has taken five hybrids hostage,” he said, stepping toward the war table. “They’re demanding the release of the prisoners in the lower cells by dawn. If we refuse, they’ll execute them publicly.”
“And if we agree?” I asked, walking forward, my boots silent on stone.
“Then they’ll retreat. Regroup. Strike again.”
“So we don’t negotiate.”
“No.” He leaned over the map of Vienna, his finger tracing the route from the Obsidian Spire to the Veil Market. “We respond with force. A surgical strike. Rescue the hostages. Eliminate the threat.”
“And walk into a trap?” I said, stepping beside him. “You really think they’d make it that easy?”
He didn’t look at me. “We don’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice.” I leaned over the map, my finger brushing his as I pointed to the eastern tunnel. “They’re not just testing us. They’re probing for weakness. And if we respond with brute force, they’ll vanish. But if we respond with strategy—” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “—then we win.”
He studied me—long, hard, searching. “And what strategy do you propose?”
“We don’t go in as rescuers,” I said. “We go in as threats. We let them think we’re coming with full force—Alpha, Beta, Enforcers. But we split. You take the main entrance. I take the eastern tunnel. Silas and a small team flank from the west. We cut off their escape. We corner them. And then—” I smiled, slow, dangerous. “—we burn them out.”
He didn’t answer.
But the bond flared—hot, insistent, a pulse of heat between my thighs. My skin flushed. My nipples hardened. My breath came faster.
He felt it too.
The way my body betrayed me. The way my fire flared when I was near him. The way I wanted him, even as I plotted against his orders.
“You think I’ll let you go alone?” he asked, voice rough.
“I think you’ll let me lead,” I said. “Because if you don’t, I’ll go anyway. And you’ll lose more than hostages. You’ll lose me.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t growl. But the frost creeping across the table spread faster, the runes flaring faintly. The air between us thickened, charged with magic, with tension, with us.
And then—
“Fine,” he said, stepping closer. “You lead the eastern tunnel. But you don’t engage until I give the signal. No heroics. No recklessness. You wait.”
“Or what?” I asked, lifting my chin. “You’ll chain me to the wall?”
“No.” His hand rose, fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone. A jolt of sensation tore through me—fire and ice, pleasure and pain. My mouth fell open. My body arched toward him. “I’ll come for you. And when I do—” His voice dropped. “—you won’t walk away.”
My breath caught.
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
“I think you’re afraid of this.” He leaned in, his breath cold against my ear. “The heat. The need. The way your body betrays you every time I touch you.”
“It doesn’t betray me,” I whispered. “It remembers.”
And then—
The door opened.
Silas stepped in, his expression unreadable. “The teams are ready. We move in twenty.”
Kaelen stepped back, his hand falling from my skin. The bond pulsed between us—hot, alive, unbroken. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. Just turned and walked to the door.
But just before he left, he paused.
“You’ll wear the armor I left for you,” he said, not looking back. “No exceptions.”
And then he was gone.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, my hand resting on the war table, my breath slow, controlled. The bond flared beneath my skin, a constant, maddening awareness of him. I could feel his presence like a shadow behind my eyes, his heat a pulse beneath my skin.
And worse—
I could feel the fire inside me.
Not just the magic. Not just the rage.
But the wanting.
“You’re not just fighting the Council,” Silas said, stepping beside me. “You’re fighting him.”
“I’m not fighting anyone,” I said, straightening. “I’m winning.”
He exhaled, a low, knowing sound. “Then stop pretending you don’t want him.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar.”
I turned to him, my eyes sharp. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know what the bond feels like,” he said. “I’ve felt it. Every time you touch him. Every time your breath hitches. Every time you moan.”
My jaw clenched. “You were spying.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “I was awake. And if you think the rest of us aren’t feeling it—” He gestured to the runes on the floor. “—then you’re more blind than I thought.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned and walked to the door.
But I knew he was right.
The bond wasn’t just between us.
It was broadcast. A signal. A warning. And everyone in the Spire could feel it.
And they were waiting to see what I would do.
The armor Kaelen had left for me was waiting in my chambers—a fitted black cuirass lined with frost-runes, reinforced gauntlets, thigh-high boots with hidden blades. It wasn’t ceremonial. It wasn’t decorative. It was war.
I stripped off my tunic, stepping into the washbasin. The water was cold, sharp against my skin. I scrubbed hard—my arms, my neck, my collarbone—trying to erase the memory of his touch, the heat of his breath, the way my body had betrayed me. But it didn’t work.
The sigil still pulsed.
The bond still screamed.
And I still wanted him.
I dressed quickly, the armor fitting like a second skin. The frost-runes hummed as I moved, reacting to the bond, to my magic, to the fire that lived in my veins. I braided my hair back, securing it with a silver dagger. Then I stepped into the corridor, my boots silent on stone, my breath slow and controlled.
The eastern tunnel was narrow, carved into the old catacombs beneath Vienna, its walls lined with torches that flickered in colors no flame should have—purple, green, blood-red. The air was thick with incense, sweat, and the electric hum of raw magic. I moved fast, keeping to the shadows, my hand near my dagger. The bond flared beneath my skin, a constant, maddening awareness of him. I could feel his presence like a storm on the horizon, his heat a pulse beneath my skin.
And then—
I felt it.
Not Kaelen.
Something else.
A whisper in the dark.
A presence.
Not Dusk. Not Fae.
Something older.
I skidded to a stop, turning, scanning the shadows.
Nothing.
Just smoke. Just flame. Just chaos.
And then—
A hand.
Reaching out from the darkness.
Not to grab me.
But to beckon.
I hesitated.
And then—
I followed.
The hand led me through a series of hidden passages, deeper into the catacombs, until we reached a chamber I’d never seen before—circular, its walls lined with ancient carvings of thorns and fire, its floor inscribed with a massive sigil that pulsed faintly in the dim light. At the center stood a figure—hooded, faceless, wrapped in shadows.
“You’ve come,” a voice said—female, low, familiar.
“Who are you?” I asked, hand on my dagger.
“A friend,” she said, lowering her hood. “Of your mother.”
My breath stilled.
It was a Dusk Fae woman—pale, sharp-featured, her eyes glowing faintly with inherited power. But it wasn’t her face that made my blood run cold.
It was the mark on her neck.
A sigil—thorns and frost, intertwined.
Just like mine.
“You knew her,” I said, voice low.
“Yes.” She stepped forward. “And she sent me to you.”
“She’s dead.”
“But her fight isn’t.” She reached into her cloak and pulled out a scroll—old, brittle, sealed with wax stamped with the High Chancellor’s sigil. “She left this for you. Hidden. Protected. Waiting.”
I took it, my fingers trembling. “What is it?”
“The truth,” she said. “About the Oath-Book. About Mordrek. About him.”
My breath caught.
“Kaelen?”
She nodded. “He wasn’t just trying to save her. He was trying to free her. But Mordrek had already bound her with an oath—one she couldn’t break. One that forced her to confess.”
My chest tightened.
“And the letter?”
“Was intercepted. But not destroyed. Hidden. Waiting for you to find it.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why go through all this?”
“Because you’re not just her daughter,” she said. “You’re the key. The only one who can break the Oath-Book. The only one who can burn it all down.”
My breath came faster. “And if I do?”
“Then the bond—” She hesitated. “—may not survive.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The Oath-Book is the source of all binding magic in the Concord. If you destroy it—” She met my eyes. “—every bond, every oath, every contract will unravel.”
My hand flew to my collarbone.
The sigil pulsed—hot, insistent, a pulse of heat between my thighs.
“And Kaelen?”
“He’ll be free,” she said. “But so will you.”
My breath stilled.
Free.
Not bound. Not claimed. Not his.
And yet—
I didn’t want to be.
“The Shadow Pact,” I said, voice low. “Are they really holding hostages?”
She smiled, slow, dangerous. “They are. But not for long. We’re not your enemy, Opal. We’re your allies. And if you want to burn the system—” She stepped closer. “—then fight with us. Not against us.”
I didn’t answer.
Just clutched the scroll, the paper crumpling in my fist.
And then—
Footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Coming closer.
Kaelen.
I didn’t wait.
I turned and ran.
Through the passages. Through the shadows. Back to the eastern tunnel. Back to the Veil Market.
And as I ran, the bond flared—hot, alive, unbroken.
And for the first time since the ritual—
I didn’t fight it.
I just let it burn.
When I reached the market, the fight had already begun.
Kaelen was a storm of frost and fury, his magic freezing one assassin mid-lunge, his dagger slicing through another’s throat. Silas fought beside him, silent, deadly, his movements precise. The hostages were huddled in the center, unharmed, unbroken.
And then—
He saw me.
His silver eyes locked onto mine, cold, assessing, hungry.
“You’re late,” he growled.
“I had a detour,” I said, stepping into the fight.
And as I raised my dagger, the bond flared—hot, alive, unbroken.
And I knew—
This wasn’t just about vengeance.
This wasn’t just about justice.
This was about us.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive it.