The library is a cathedral of lies.
Not that you’d know it by looking. Towering shelves of blackened oak stretch into shadowed heights, carved with runes that hum faintly with trapped knowledge. Moonlight filters through stained glass depicting ancient treaties—werewolves kneeling before vampires, witches bound in silver chains, Fae offering oaths on bended knee. The air is thick with dust and silence, the scent of old paper and something darker: ink laced with blood, secrets written in dying breaths.
I know this place. Not from memory. From instinct.
This is where they kept her.
My mother.
Before the fire. Before the pyre. Before the council declared her a traitor for daring to love a werewolf, for carrying a hybrid child. They brought her here, to this vault of stolen truth, and made her write her confession—every word forced, every sentence a lie. And when she refused to sign it, they burned her anyway.
And now, three days after the ritual chamber, two days after Lira’s smirk and Kaelen’s kiss, I’m standing in the same shadows, my fingers tracing the spine of a forbidden text: Hybrid Bloodlines: Extinction and Erasure.
I shouldn’t be here.
Kaelen warned me. The council watches. Taryn watches. Even Riven, in his own way, warned me to be careful. But I can’t stop. Can’t breathe. Not while Malrik sits on his obsidian throne, smiling like a serpent, while Lira parades through the halls in his shirt, while the bond burns in my veins like a curse I can’t name.
I came here to burn them all.
And if I’m going to burn them, I need proof.
The truth-seeker’s sigil behind my ear pulses faintly—still active, still hungry. I press a fresh drop of blood to it, letting the magic flare. My fingers move across the shelves, searching, sifting. Not for legends. Not for myths. For records. For evidence. For the one thing Malrik thought he destroyed.
And then—
I find it.
Not a book. Not a scroll.
A key.
Small. Silver. Etched with the Moonblood sigil—a crescent cradling a drop of blood. It’s hidden in the spine of a hollowed-out volume, disguised as a bookmark. My breath catches. My pulse spikes. I pull it free, clutching it in my palm like a lifeline.
It’s real.
It’s hers.
And it only opens one place.
The Vault of Lost Names.
Beneath the library. Behind wards only Moonblood magic can bypass. A prison for forbidden knowledge—and, if the rumors are true, for the final words of those the council erased.
I don’t hesitate.
I move.
The descent is a spiral of black stone, lit by flickering blue flames that cast long, shifting shadows. The air grows colder, heavier, the scent of iron and decay rising from below. The key hums in my hand, alive, guiding me. At the bottom, a door—massive, iron-bound, sealed with a sigil that pulses like a heartbeat.
I press the key into the lock.
It turns with a sound like a dying breath.
The door groans open.
Inside—darkness. Then light. Faint, ghostly, rising from the floor: rows of glass cases, each holding a single object—journals, daggers, bones, rings—labeled with names I recognize. Elira Voss. Kaelen Dain. Malrik. Riven.
And then—
There.
In the center.
A leather-bound journal, its cover scorched at the edges, the Moonblood sigil still visible beneath the ash. My mother’s name is etched in silver: Lyra of the Moonblood.
I stagger forward.
My hands tremble as I reach for it. The glass lifts with a whisper of magic. I pull the journal free, clutching it to my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps. It’s warm. Alive. As if her spirit still lingers in the pages.
And then—
I open it.
The first page is a single sentence, written in her hand—steady, strong, defiant.
“They will say I betrayed my kind. They will say I loved a monster. But the truth is, I loved a man who tried to save me. And the real monster sits on the council’s throne.”
Tears blur my vision.
I flip the page. More words. Dates. Names. Meetings. A record of her love for Kaelen’s father—a secret alliance between the Moonbloods and the Northern Packs to end the Pact of Eclipse. A plan to unite the species. A future.
And then—
The purge.
How Malrik discovered the alliance. How he framed her. How he used her love as proof of treason. How Kaelen’s father tried to stop it—and died for it.
And the final entry.
Dated the night before her execution.
“If you are reading this, my daughter, know this: I did not betray our blood. I did not betray our future. I was silenced. But the truth cannot die. Find the Alpha-King’s son. He carries his father’s honor. He may be your enemy now—but he is not your enemy’s ally. And if the bond awakens between you… trust it. It is not fate. It is justice.”
I close the journal.
My body shakes. My breath comes in sharp, broken gasps. The truth is here. In my hands. Proof that she was innocent. Proof that Malrik is a liar. Proof that Kaelen—
“Looking for something?”
The voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
I spin.
Malrik stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the dim blue light, his fangs glinting, his eyes black as void. He’s not alone. Two vampire enforcers flank him, their hands on their weapons, their gazes locked on me.
“I said you weren’t permitted here,” he says, stepping forward, his boots echoing on stone. “Especially not with that.” He nods at the journal. “That’s evidence of treason. Not a keepsake.”
“It’s proof of your lies,” I say, voice steady despite the fear clawing up my throat. “Proof that you murdered my mother. That you framed her. That you’ve been controlling the packs for decades.”
He smiles. Slow. Serpentine. “And who will believe you? A hybrid witch with a grudge? A woman bound to the Alpha-King by a bond she doesn’t even understand?” He takes another step. “You think this changes anything? You think this makes you innocent?”
“It makes you guilty.”
“And what will you do?” he asks, spreading his arms. “Expose me? In front of the council? With that as your only proof?” He laughs. “They’ll say you forged it. That the bond has corrupted your mind. That you’re unstable. And they’ll be right.”
My fingers tighten around the journal. “Then I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, Sage.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re not a killer. You’re a pawn. A weapon. And weapons don’t choose their masters.”
“I do.”
“No.” He steps closer. “You belong to the bond. To Kaelen. To the council. And if you try to use this—” he gestures to the journal, “—to start a war, I’ll have you executed for treason. And I’ll make sure Kaelen watches. I’ll make him thank me for it.”
My blood runs cold.
Because he’s right.
The council will side with him. The packs will hesitate. And Kaelen—
“You’re afraid,” Malrik says, voice soft, almost kind. “Afraid of what the bond means. Afraid of what you feel for him. Afraid that if you destroy me, you’ll destroy the only man who’s ever looked at you like you’re real.”
I don’t answer.
Can’t.
Because he sees it. The crack in my armor. The hesitation. The doubt.
And he’s going to use it.
“Put it down, Sage,” he says, extending a hand. “Let me take it. Let me bury it where it belongs. And I’ll let you live. I’ll even let you keep your precious Alpha-King.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you die.”
My breath hitches.
Not from fear.
From rage.
From the fire that’s been building in my chest since the night I stepped into the Spire. The fire that’s been banked by the bond, by Kaelen’s hands, by his voice, by the way he looked at me in the rain.
But not anymore.
“No,” I say, lifting the journal. “You’re going to die. And when you do, I’ll make sure the world knows the truth.”
He sighs. “So be it.”
He nods to the enforcers.
They move.
I don’t wait.
I throw the journal behind me—into the far corner of the vault—then lunge, magic surging through my veins. The containment charm on my ribs flares, releasing a shockwave of energy that throws the first enforcer against the wall. The second swings a blade, but I duck, roll, and kick his legs out from under him. I’m up in an instant, my dagger in hand, slashing at his throat—
But Malrik is faster.
He grabs me from behind, his arm locking around my neck, his fangs at my ear. “You should’ve taken the deal,” he hisses.
I struggle, but his grip is iron. My vision blurs. My lungs burn.
And then—
“Let. Her. Go.”
The voice is pure ice. Pure fire.
Kaelen.
I turn my head—just enough to see him in the doorway, his silver eyes blazing, his body coiled like a storm. He doesn’t shift. Doesn’t roar. Just steps forward, slow, deliberate, his presence filling the room like a predator claiming its territory.
Malrik tightens his grip. “This doesn’t concern you, Alpha-King.”
“She’s mine,” Kaelen growls. “And you’re touching her.”
“She’s holding evidence of treason.”
“Then let the council decide.”
“The council is me.”
Kaelen takes another step. “Not for long.”
Malrik laughs. “You think you can challenge me? You, who signed the order to purge her bloodline? You, who let her mother burn?”
“I didn’t.” Kaelen’s voice is low, raw. “I tried to stop it. I argued. I fought. And when I failed, I kept her mother’s journal—hidden, protected—because I knew the truth would rise.”
My breath catches.
He knew?
He kept it?
Malrik sneers. “And now you betray your own kind for a hybrid witch?”
“I’m not betraying anyone,” Kaelen says. “I’m fulfilling a promise.”
“Then you’ll die with her.”
Malrik bares his fangs—
And Kaelen moves.
One second, he’s across the room. The next, he’s on Malrik, slamming him against the wall, his hand around the vampire’s throat. I drop to the floor, gasping, my neck burning, my vision swimming.
“You’re finished,” Kaelen snarls. “The bond chose her. The truth is here. And if you try to hurt her again—” his grip tightens, “—I’ll rip your heart out with my bare hands.”
Malrik chokes. “You’ll start a war.”
“Let it burn.”
I push myself up, stumbling toward the journal. My fingers close around it—warm, alive, real. I look at Kaelen, at the fury in his eyes, at the way he’s protecting me, not as a pawn, not as a weapon, but as his.
And in that moment—
I know.
I know he’s not the monster.
He’s the only one who can help me destroy the real one.
“Kaelen,” I say, voice trembling. “Let him go.”
He doesn’t look at me. “No.”
“Let him go,” I repeat. “We don’t need his blood. We need his shame.”
He hesitates.
Then slowly, reluctantly, releases Malrik, shoving him to the ground. The vampire coughs, clutching his throat, his eyes blazing with hatred.
“You’ll regret this,” he hisses.
“No,” I say, stepping forward, the journal in my hands. “You will.”
Kaelen turns to me. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m alive.”
He reaches for me—
And I step back.
Not because I don’t want him.
Because I do.
And that terrifies me more than Malrik. More than the council. More than death.
“You lied to me,” I say, voice breaking. “You had her journal. You knew the truth. And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was trying to protect you,” he says. “Malrik would’ve killed you if he knew I had it. If he knew you were coming.”
“You should’ve trusted me.”
“I do.”
“Then why keep it hidden?”
“Because I was afraid.”
I freeze. “Afraid of what?”
He steps closer, his voice low, raw. “Afraid that if you knew the truth, you’d still hate me. That you’d still see me as the man who signed the order. That you’d never believe I tried to stop it.”
My breath hitches.
“And now?” he asks. “Do you believe me?”
I look at him—really look. At the silver fire in his eyes, at the tension in his jaw, at the way his hand trembles as he reaches for me.
And I know.
I know he’s telling the truth.
But knowing it and believing it—
Are two different things.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
And then—
He grabs me.
Not gently. Not carefully.
With a snarl, he pulls me against him, his hands framing my face, his body caging me in. His breath is hot on my skin, his scent flooding my senses. The bond flares—white-hot, insatiable.
“Then hate me,” he growls. “Scream it. Curse me. But don’t die for this war before it even begins.”
And then—
He kisses me.
Not like last night.
Not desperate. Not claiming.
Furious.
Wet.
Aching.
His mouth crashes over mine, his teeth scraping my lip, his tongue demanding entry. I gasp, but he doesn’t let me speak. Doesn’t let me fight. Just takes, consumes, owns.
And I let him.
Because for the first time since I walked into the Spire—
I stop fighting.
And I start feeling.
My hands claw at his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. My body arches into his, my thighs pressing against his hips, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The journal falls from my hands, forgotten. The vault, the enforcers, Malrik—all of it fades.
There’s only him.
Only this.
Only the bond, screaming in my blood that this is right. That this is us.
And when he finally pulls back, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot on my skin, his voice is a broken whisper.
“I hate you too,” I gasp, tears streaming down my face. “I hate you so much.”
He doesn’t flinch.
Just cups my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, smearing the tears.
“Then hate me,” he says, voice raw. “But don’t die.”
And in that moment—
I know.
I came here to burn them all.
But I’ll save him first.
Because the war within me?
It’s already over.
And I’ve lost.
And won.