The silence after Lyra’s capture was heavier than any battle cry.
Not the quiet of peace. Not the hush of victory. This was the stillness of something broken—deep in the bones of the Citadel, in the way the torches flickered lower, in the way the Northern Pack guards moved slower, their eyes no longer sharp with readiness, but dull with exhaustion. Even the wind had gone quiet, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath.
I stood in the nursery, my hand pressed low on my belly, where the child’s warmth pulsed in slow, steady waves. The bond hummed beneath my skin—not with pain, not with denial, but with something deeper now. A resonance. A rhythm. Like a second heartbeat, shared, unbroken. Kael was beside me, his coat pulled tight, his golden eyes scanning the room. He wasn’t in half-shift, but the wolf was close—too close—his presence a wall of heat and silence.
“She’s gone,” he said, his voice rough. “The Void Cells are sealed. No magic. No contact. No escape.”
“But she’s still in my head,” I said, not looking at him. My fingers brushed the hilt of the moonfire dagger at my thigh—the one Lysander stole, the one I reclaimed. The one I hadn’t sheathed since the Blood Moon Festival. “I can still hear her. Not with sound. With *intent*. Like a whisper in the dark.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped into me, his body a furnace, his breath warm against my neck. “Then let me silence it.”
“You can’t,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest, over his heart. “Not this time. This isn’t about you. This is about *me*.”
He studied me—his golden eyes sharp, his wolf close, his love deeper than any magic. “You’re not going to kill her.”
“No,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m going to destroy her magic. I’m going to erase her power. I’m going to make sure she can never touch this child again.”
“And if it costs you?” he asked, his voice low. “If it breaks the bond? If it takes something from *you*?”
“Then it’s already too late,” I said, stepping back. “She tried to twist the cradle. She poured Vexis’s blood into our child’s vessel. She doesn’t get to walk away from that.”
He didn’t argue. Just reached for my hand—warm, calloused, grounding. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in recognition. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just a witch.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was his.
And he was mine.
“Then we do it together,” he said, stepping into the chamber. “Not as Alpha and consort. Not as wolf and witch. As partners.”
I didn’t answer.
Just followed.
The Void Cells were deep beneath the Citadel—carved from blackthorn roots, warded by ancient runes, sealed with blood-oaths older than the truce. The air grew colder with each step, the torches dimming until only faint crimson sigils lit our path. The walls pulsed like living things, their veins threaded with trapped magic, their surfaces slick with condensation. And then—
We reached the final door.
Carved from obsidian, etched with lunar sigils, its surface warm to the touch. I placed my palm against it. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in anger, not in fear—but in truth. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire corridor was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
Kael’s scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The door opened.
Lyra stood in the center of the cell, her back to us, her cloak of twilight flaring behind her. She wasn’t bound. Not with chains. Not with magic. But the air around her was thick with silence—no glamour, no scent, no power. The Void Cells stripped it all. Left her raw. Human. exposed.
She turned slowly, her violet eyes glowing with ancient hunger. Her smile—too wide, too sharp, too knowing.
“You came,” she purred. “To gloat? To punish? To prove you’re stronger?”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, my dagger in hand, my magic rising like a tide. Kael stayed behind me, a wall of heat and silence, his presence a tether.
“You don’t have to do this,” Lyra said, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to be cruel. I was used. Just like you. Just like your mother.”
My breath stilled.
“Vexis promised me power,” she said, stepping closer. “He promised me a place at his side. He promised me *you*, Kael. Not as a mate. Not as a lover. As a weapon. And I believed him. Because I was tired of being nothing. Tired of being forgotten. Tired of being *less*.”
“And you thought hurting my child would make you more?” I asked, my voice low. “You thought twisting the cradle would prove your worth?”
“I thought it would prove *yours*,” she said, her voice breaking. “That you weren’t some chosen one. That you weren’t destined. That you were just like me—afraid. Alone. Desperate.”
My fingers tightened on the dagger.
She wasn’t wrong.
Not entirely.
Because I *had* been afraid. I *had* been alone. I *had* been desperate. And for a single, terrible second—I’d wanted what she wanted. Power. Recognition. A way out.
But I hadn’t taken it.
And that made all the difference.
“You don’t get to decide my worth,” I said, stepping forward. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine. And you don’t get to live with the magic that let you try.”
“And what will you do?” she asked, lifting her chin. “Kill me? Banish me? Break me?”
“No,” I said, raising my hands. “I’m going to *unmake* you.”
And then—
Moonfire erupted from my palms.
Not in a wave.
Not in a blast.
In a pulse.
It didn’t burn the cell.
It revealed it.
For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
Kael’s scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
Lyra screamed.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
In *recognition*.
The light didn’t burn her. It didn’t scar her. It didn’t kill her.
It revealed her.
Her true form—not vampire. Not fae. Not even human. But something older. Something broken. A creature of shadow and hunger, born from a blood pact she never understood, bound to Vexis not by choice, but by a debt her mother owed.
And then—
Her magic shattered.
Not with a sound.
Not with a blast.
With a *whisper*.
Like glass breaking under moonlight. Like a vow unspoken. Like a lie finally told.
The violet fire in her eyes dimmed. Her fangs retracted. Her glamour fell. And she stood there—just a woman. Pale. Thin. human.
“You took it,” she said, her voice raw. “You took everything.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “I took what you used to hurt us. I took what you weaponized. I took what you *stole*.”
“And now I’m nothing,” she whispered.
“No,” I said, pressing my hand to her chest, over her heart. “Now you’re *free*.”
She didn’t flinch. Just looked at me—her eyes no longer violet, but brown. Human. real.
“I don’t want your mercy,” she said, her voice breaking.
“This isn’t mercy,” I said. “This is justice. You tried to destroy what I love. Now you’ll live with what you are. No power. No lies. No escape.”
And then—
The child flared.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Peace.Its warmth surged, rising like a tide, syncing with the bond, with the crown, with me. My magic erupted—not in defense, not in attack—
But in truth.
I stepped back.
Not to Kael.
To the *memory*.
“I am not your weapon,” I said, my voice clear. “I am not your pawn. I am not the fire you want to control.”
I turned to Kael.
Not as Alpha.
Not as mate.
As *partner*.
“We don’t have to be perfect,” I said, my voice breaking. “We don’t have to be strong. We just have to be *true*. To ourselves. To each other. To the future.”
He didn’t speak.
Just stepped forward—and pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curls from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire cell was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The chamber stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
We didn’t return to our chambers.
Not yet.
Instead, we stayed in the Void Cells, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the torchlight flicker against the obsidian walls. Lyra sat in the corner, silent, her human eyes fixed on the floor. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just existed.
And then—
The door opened.
Silas stepped inside, his coat pulled tight, his golden eyes scanning the room. He didn’t look surprised. Just walked to us, his boots silent on the stone, his presence a wall of heat and silence.
“You felt it,” I said, not looking at him.
“I always do,” he said, stepping into me. His hand found mine, warm, calloused, grounding. “He’s getting stronger.”
“But I’m stronger,” I said, lifting my chin. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He didn’t smile. Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curls from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about truth.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.
Opal’s Blood Moon
The Blood Moon rises over the Blackthorn Citadel, its crimson glow painting the stone spires in blood. Inside the Obsidian Chamber, Opal stands disguised in ceremonial robes, her pulse steady, her fingers brushing the hidden dagger at her thigh. She came to kill the Alpha. Not to be bound to him. But when the ritual begins—meant to renew the truce between species—her blood spills onto the altar… and his. The moment their essences mix, the runes ignite. A shockwave throws them together. His mouth crashes against hers—not in passion, but in agony. Their souls twist, fuse, burn. The council screams. The bond is forged. Now, Opal is no longer a spy. She is Kael’s Blood-Marked Consort—a political liability, a magical anomaly, and the only woman who can trigger his primal heat. He wants to control her. She wants to destroy him. But the bond punishes denial: fever, pain, hallucinations. And when the moon swells, their bodies betray them—pressed together in fevered dreams, his teeth grazing her throat, her nails scoring her back, neither knowing if it’s real or magic. A shadow looms—the real mastermind behind her mother’s death still walks free, manipulating both packs and courts. And Kael may be the only one strong enough to protect her… or the final obstacle to her revenge. From the first chapter, Opal’s goal is clear: break the bond, kill the Alpha, reclaim her birthright. But by Chapter 3, she’s forced into a public alliance. By Chapter 8, she’s fighting jealousy, a seductive vampire mistress, and her own body’s betrayal—when a midnight mission ends with her straddling Kael’s lap, breathless, his hand under her shirt, the door slamming shut behind them. Their love will be forged in fire, blood, and the heat of the Blood Moon.