The silence after Cassien’s defeat was heavier than any war cry. Not triumphant. Not even satisfying. It was the quiet of a storm that had passed but left its scars—deep, jagged, still bleeding. We walked back to Blackthorn Keep under a sky streaked with bruised purple and dying gold, the northern cliffs casting long shadows that stretched like claws across the earth. Jade’s hand was in mine, warm and steady, her pulse synced with mine through the bond. But beneath the calm, I could feel it—the tremor in her fingers, the way her breath hitched when she thought I wasn’t looking.
She was shaken.
Not from fear. Not from pain.
From the truth.
Cassien had come close. Too close. Two exchanges. One more, and the blood-bond would have been irreversible. He would have claimed her. Bound her. Owned her.
And I would have lost her.
Not to death.
To *betrayal*—by my own failure to protect her.
My jaw tightened. My wolf snarled beneath my skin, restless, furious. I had sworn I would never let anyone take her from me. Not Elira. Not the Council. Not fate itself. And yet—
I had come within seconds of losing her to a vampire who saw her as nothing more than a weapon, a prize, a way to break me.
And she had walked into that fire willingly.
“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” I said, my voice low, rough.
She didn’t flinch. Just kept walking, her storm-gray eyes fixed on the horizon. “I had to. If I’d taken you, Cassien would have used it as proof that I couldn’t stand on my own. That I was weak. That the bond had made me dependent.”
“You’re not weak,” I growled.
“No,” she agreed. “But the world doesn’t see it that way. Not yet. And if we’re going to change it—if we’re going to make hybrids equal, if we’re going to tear down the old rules—we can’t do it hiding behind each other. We have to face them. Alone. Together.”
I didn’t answer.
Just squeezed her hand, my thumb brushing her pulse point. The bond flared—hot, electric. Her breath hitched. But I didn’t pull her closer. Didn’t shield her. Just let her walk beside me, strong and unbroken, the woman who had come to destroy me and stayed to save us both.
And gods help me, I loved her for it.
***
The keep was alive when we returned—wolves moving through the corridors like shadows, fae attendants whispering behind their hands, vampires lingering in doorways with too-knowing smiles. The scent of pine and iron was thick in the air, but beneath it—something new. Something *alive*.
They knew.
What had happened with Cassien.
What I had done.
And more importantly—what I hadn’t.
I hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t questioned. Hadn’t let protocol or politics stand in my way. I had torn through the Vampire Citadel like a storm, broken Cassien’s bond with a single thought, and pulled Jade back into my arms like she was the only thing worth saving.
And they saw it.
Not just as Alpha.
As *mate*.
As *man*.
“Kael.”
Torin’s voice cut through the silence, low and urgent. He stood at the war room door, his silver blade sheathed, his expression unreadable. But I knew him—my brother in all but blood, my shadow, my conscience. And I saw it in his eyes.
Trouble.
“She’s safe,” I said, not stopping. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“It can’t,” he said, stepping into my path. “Lyra’s gathering the pack. They’re demanding answers.”
My jaw tightened. “About what?”
“About *you*,” he said, his voice low. “About your blood. About the fae magic in your veins. About the fact that Elira wasn’t just your enemy—she was your *grandmother*.”
Jade’s breath caught beside me.
But I didn’t look at her. Just stared at Torin, my golden eyes burning. “And who told them?”
“No one had to,” he said. “The magic knows. The bond knows. And after what you did in the citadel—breaking Cassien’s link with a thought, summoning the wolf sigils without shifting—it’s obvious. You’re not just a werewolf, Kael. You’re *half-fae*. And the pack wants to know why you never told them.”
The air in the corridor thickened. Wolves paused in the hall, their ears twitching. Fae attendants exchanged glances. Even the vampires in the solarium went still.
They were watching.
Waiting.
And I had no choice.
“Fine,” I said, stepping past him. “Let them see. Let them know. But they don’t get to question my loyalty. Not after everything I’ve done. Not after everything I’ve *sacrificed*.”
Torin didn’t move. Just stood there, his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his gaze sharp. “They’re not questioning your loyalty, brother. They’re questioning your *trust*. You’ve kept this from them for *years*. And now—after everything—after the truth about Elira, after the bond, after Cassien—they’re scared. Because if the Alpha can hide something this big—”
“Then what else is he hiding?” I finished, my voice raw. “I know.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped aside. “Then tell them. Before they turn on you. Before they turn on *her*.”
My hand found Jade’s, my fingers lacing with hers. The bond pulsed—warm, unbroken, alive.
“They won’t,” I said. “Because she’s not just my mate. She’s my *truth*.”
And then I walked into the war room.
***
The pack was already assembled—Betas, Omegas, enforcers, even the younger wolves—lined along the walls, their eyes sharp, their silence heavy. Lyra stood at the head of the table, her silver blade resting beside her, her dark braid coiled like a serpent. She didn’t look at me. Just waited.
Jade stepped in behind me, her presence a solid wall at my back. I didn’t need to turn to know she was there. The bond pulsed between us—hot, electric, a tether that had once felt like a chain, now something fiercer. Something *alive*.
“You called a council meeting,” I said, stopping at the center of the room. “So speak.”
Lyra stepped forward, her gaze locking onto mine. “The pack has questions.”
“Answer them,” I said, not breaking eye contact. “But know this—if you challenge me, you challenge *her*. And if you threaten her, you answer to me.”
She didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “Then ask the questions. But answer them *truthfully*. No more lies. No more secrets.”
The room held its breath.
And then—
One of the younger wolves stepped forward—a Beta named Riven, his eyes blazing. “Is it true?” he demanded. “Are you half-fae?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Wolves growled. Omegas stepped back. Even Lyra’s breath caught.
“How?” another demanded. “When?”
“My mother,” I said, my voice low, rough. “She was a fae—captured, imprisoned, used. She died giving birth to me. And the fae who held her—Elira—she raised me. Trained me. Tried to make me her weapon.”
“And you never told us?” Riven snapped.
“Would you have followed me if you’d known?” I asked, stepping closer. “Would you have trusted a half-fae abomination? A monster born of the enemy?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared, his jaw tight.
“I kept it hidden,” I said, “because I knew what you’d see. Not your Alpha. Not your brother. But a *freak*. A traitor. A weapon. And I spent my life proving I wasn’t. That I was *yours*. That I would die for this pack.”
“And Elira?” Lyra asked, stepping forward. “She was your grandmother.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice raw. “And I killed her. Not because she was family. But because she was a *monster*. Because she used my mother. Because she tried to break me. Because she tried to take *her*.” I turned, my gaze finding Jade’s. “And I would do it again. A thousand times. If it meant keeping her safe.”
The room fell silent.
And then—
Torin stepped forward, his voice low. “Why now? Why did the magic reveal it?”
“Because the bond changed me,” I said, not looking away from Jade. “Because she changed me. I’m not just wolf. Not just fae. I’m *hers*. And when Cassien tried to take her—when he bit her, when he tried to claim her—the bond *reacted*. It wasn’t just protecting her. It was protecting *us*. And the magic—” I held up my hand, golden light flaring at my fingertips, “—it answered.”
Lyra stared at me, her eyes wide. “You’re not just Alpha anymore,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re something *new*.”
“I’m still your Alpha,” I said, turning back to the pack. “But I’m also her mate. Her equal. Her *truth*. And if you can’t follow me with that—” I stepped forward, my golden eyes burning, “—then walk. But know this: she stays. And if you harm her, you die.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
Torin stepped forward, his blade still sheathed, his gaze steady. “I’ve never seen you hesitate before a fight,” he said, his voice low. “Never seen you pause before striking. But now—” he glanced at Jade, “—you smile at her sarcasm. You let her challenge you. You *listen*.”
I didn’t answer.
Just waited.
And then—
He knelt.
Not in submission. Not in reverence.
In *solidarity*.
“I followed you because you were strong,” he said, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “But I stay because you’re *honest*. Because you’ve bled for us. Because you’ve *changed*. And because she”—he looked at Jade—“is the only one who’s ever made you *whole*.”
One by one, the pack followed.
Lyra. Riven. The Omegas. The enforcers.
Not in submission.
In *loyalty*.
And when the last wolf bowed his head, I didn’t feel triumph.
I felt *relief*.
Because they hadn’t rejected me.
They had *chosen* me.
***
Later, in the bathing chamber, I stood at the edge of the tub, shirtless, my scars on display, my body a map of pain and power. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting long shadows across the stone. Jade sat on the bench, her dark hair loose, her storm-gray eyes watching me.
“They accepted you,” she said, her voice soft.
“They accepted *us*,” I corrected, stepping closer. “Because of you.”
She didn’t smile. Just stood, walking to me, her hands rising, her fingers brushing the scar on my chest—the one from when I was a boy, when they’d tried to break me. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “You didn’t have to reveal everything.”
“I did,” I said, catching her wrist, pulling her against me. “Because I’m done hiding. Done running. And if I’m going to lead them—if I’m going to lead *us*—I have to be *real*. No more masks. No more lies.”
She leaned into me, her body pressing against mine, her breath warm against my neck. “And if they turn on you again?”
“Then we face them together,” I said, pressing my lips to her temple. “No more running.”
“No more running,” she agreed, her arms wrapping around me.
And then—
I pulled her into the tub, the warm water rising around us. I didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Just held her, my hands trailing her spine, my lips brushing her shoulder, where the mark glowed faintly—silver thorns, crimson vines, *ours*.
And for the first time—
I let her hold me.
Outside, the keep was silent.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.