The morning after our reconciliation, the keep was different.
Not in structure. Not in law.
In breath.
It was subtle—just a shift in the air, a softness in the wolves’ eyes, a lack of tension in the corridors—but I felt it the moment I stepped into the war room. The stone still bore the marks of past battles, the sigils still pulsed with dormant magic, the fire in the hearth still crackled with ancient power. But the weight—the suffocating, ever-present pressure of secrets and suspicion—was gone.
It had been replaced by something warmer. Something fiercer.
Trust.
Kael stood at the head of the table, shirtless, his scars on display, his golden eyes burning with a new kind of fire. Not rage. Not control. But clarity. He had faced his pack. Bared his truth. And they had knelt—not in submission, but in loyalty. He was no longer just their Alpha. He was their brother. Their truth. Their storm.
And I—
I was no longer just his mate.
I was their queen.
Not by title.
By presence.
By the way the wolves lowered their heads when I passed. The way the fae attendants no longer whispered behind their hands. The way the vampires in the solarium now met my gaze instead of avoiding it.
I walked to Kael’s side, my boots silent on the stone. He didn’t look at me. Just reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together, the bond flaring—hot, electric, alive. His thumb brushed my pulse point, a silent question.
Are you okay?
I squeezed his hand. More than okay.
“Torin’s sent scouts to the border,” he said, his voice low, rough. “No signs of Elira’s remaining guards. No fae movements. The Council hasn’t responded to our message.”
“They’re waiting,” I said, stepping closer, my shoulder brushing his. “Assessing. Trying to decide if we’re a threat or an opportunity.”
“And Cassien?”
“He’ll regroup,” I said, my voice steady. “He won’t let this go. Not after what you did to his bond. Not after what he saw—us, together, unbroken.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “Then we prepare.”
“We already are,” I said, turning to face him. “The pack stands with us. The hybrids are rallying. Lyra’s forming a rogue faction—open to outcasts, to those who’ve been cast aside. And Silas—” I paused, a flicker of movement catching my eye in the doorway. “—is here.”
Silas stepped into the war room like he owned it—tall, pale, dressed in black silk that clung to his vampire frame like a second skin. His dark hair was tousled, his smirk sharp, his eyes glinting with mischief and something darker. He didn’t bow. Didn’t lower his gaze. Just walked to the table, dropping a blood-red dossier onto the obsidian surface with a soft thud.
“You’re late,” Kael said, not looking at him.
“And you’re brooding,” Silas shot back, flashing a grin. “Honestly, Kael, if you’re going to be this intense all the time, I’m going to need a drink. Or a threesome. Whichever’s easier.”
I didn’t laugh. But my lips twitched.
Kael didn’t react. Just stared at Silas, his golden eyes burning. “You said you had proof.”
“I do,” Silas said, flipping open the dossier. “But first—” He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver flask. “—a toast.”
He uncorked it, took a long swig, then offered it to me. I hesitated, but took it. The liquid was warm, spiced, humming with magic. Vampire blood, mixed with fae nectar and something else—something old, something dangerous.
“What is this?” I asked, lowering the flask.
“Peace offering,” Silas said, his smirk softening. “And a warning. Drink it. It’ll strengthen the bond. Make it harder for anyone to break. Even the Council.”
Kael didn’t argue. Just nodded once.
I took another sip. The warmth spread through my chest, down my arms, into the bond. It pulsed—hot, brighter, stronger—and I felt it, deep in my bones. Not just magic. Not just power.
Protection.
“Now,” Silas said, turning serious, “let’s talk about your grandmother.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “She’s dead.”
“And her legacy isn’t,” Silas said, spreading out the contents of the dossier. “I’ve been digging. Deep. Through the Blood Markets, the Fae Court archives, even Cassien’s private ledgers. And I found something… interesting.”
He laid out a series of documents—aged parchment, encrypted codes, photographs of Elira in shadowed meetings with Council members, with vampire elders, with werewolf enforcers from rival packs. And then—
A ledger.
Not just any ledger.
The ledger.
The one I’d found in Kael’s study, the one with my sister’s name, the date, and Kael’s signature.
But this wasn’t the same.
This one was different.
“This is a forgery,” Silas said, tapping the signature. “Elira’s hand. Not Kael’s. She used a blood-quill—fueled by his blood, taken when he was a boy, when she held him prisoner. She could mimic his writing, his magic, his signature. And she did. Over and over. To frame him. To control him. To make him the monster she wanted him to be.”
My breath caught.
“And my sister?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Silas didn’t hesitate. Just flipped to another page—a photograph of Elira, standing over a body, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her hands stained with blood. The body was small, broken, spine snapped. My sister.
“She ordered the hit,” Silas said, his voice low. “But not because of politics. Not because of power.”
“Then why?”
“Because your sister was close to proving the truth about hybrid bloodlines,” he said. “She had evidence—ancient texts, blood samples, magical signatures—that hybrids weren’t abominations. That they were the next evolution. That they could bridge the species. And if that truth came out—”
“It would destroy the old order,” I finished, my voice shaking. “The fae would lose their superiority. The vampires would lose their dominance. The Council would lose control.”
“Exactly,” Silas said. “And Elira couldn’t let that happen. So she killed her. Framed Kael. And used the Shadow Fate prophecy to bind you two, hoping the bond would break you. That it would turn you against each other. That it would destroy the very thing she feared—hybrid unity.”
The room was silent.
Not just the war room.
My chest.
My heart.
Because for three years, I had come here to destroy Kael. To expose him. To burn his legacy to ash.
And all along—
He had been the victim.
Just like me.
“She used us,” I said, my voice raw. “She used the bond. Used our hate. Used our pain.”
“And failed,” Kael said, stepping closer, his hand finding mine. “Because we didn’t break. We became something stronger.”
I looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, I saw it.
Not just the Alpha.
Not just the killer.
But the man who had been broken and rebuilt. The one who had chosen me over power. Over blood. Over everything.
And I had chosen him.
Even when I thought he was the monster.
Even when I thought he had killed my sister.
And now—
Now I had the truth.
And it wasn’t justice.
It was war.
***
Later, in the suite, I stood at the window, the dossier in my hands, the truth burning in my veins. The moon was high, silver and cold, casting long shadows across the northern cliffs. The bond pulsed beneath my skin—warm, insistent, alive—but beneath it, something darker.
Revenge.
Not for Kael.
Not for the pack.
For my sister.
For the truth she had died for.
For the world she had tried to save.
“You’re thinking about her,” Kael said, stepping behind me. His hands slid to my waist, his body pressing against my back, his breath warm against my neck. “I can feel it. The shift in the bond. The way your magic flares when you remember.”
“I can’t let it go,” I said, my voice low. “Not yet. She died because she believed in something. Because she thought she could change the world. And Elira killed her for it.”
“And now Elira’s dead,” he said, pressing his lips to my temple. “The blood tie is severed. The bond stands. The truth is out.”
“But it’s not enough,” I said, turning in his arms, my storm-gray eyes locking onto his. “The Council still doubts. The fae still resist. Cassien still wants me. And there are others—others like Elira, who will do anything to keep the old order alive.”
He didn’t argue. Just cupped my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip, the bond flaring—hot, electric. “Then we burn it down.”
“Together,” I said, pressing my palm to his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat.
“Always,” he growled, pulling me closer.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not desperate. Not furious.
Slow.
Deep.
Theirs.
My lips met his with a gentleness that stole my breath, my body arching into his, my magic flaring, the bond pulsing—warm, unbroken, alive. He didn’t take control. Didn’t dominate. Just let me lead, his mouth moving with mine, his breath mingling with mine, the bond surging between us like a storm given form.
And when I pulled back, his forehead rested on mine, his breath warm against my lips. “You’re not what I expected,” he murmured.
“Neither are you,” I whispered.
And then—
He pulled me onto the bed.
Not fast. Not rough.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like worship.
His hands traced every curve, every scar, every piece of me that had been broken and rebuilt. He kissed my collarbone, my breasts, the dip of my waist. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just touched me—slow, aching, reverent. And when he reached the apex of my thighs, he didn’t go inside.
Just there.
Pressing gently, heat flooding my core. I gasped, arching into him, my fingers digging into the sheets.
“You feel it,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “The magic. The bond. The way your body knows me.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because he was right.
My magic flared—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined—surging through me, through the sheets, through the sigils carved into the bedframe. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent—feeding on the contact, on the heat, on the way my body still remembered the bath, the way it still wanted him.
And then—
He moved.
His fingers slid inside me—slow, deliberate, a single finger pressing deep. I cried out, arching into him, my head falling back, my magic flaring, the bond screaming with need.
“You’re not lying,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “The magic—it knows. It sees the truth.”
He didn’t answer.
Just added another finger, curling them just right, his thumb pressing against my clit. I moaned, my body trembling, my core clenching around him.
“I’ve never wanted to be yours more,” he growled, his voice rough, dark. “Not as your Alpha. Not as your mate. But as your equal. Your partner. Your truth.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
Because he wasn’t just saying it.
He was proving it.
With every touch. Every breath. Every pulse of the bond.
And then—
I came.
Not hard. Not violent.
But deep. Shattering. A wave of heat and light and magic that tore through me, through the bed, through the sigils, flaring like a supernova. The room trembled. The bond pulsed—hot, blinding, unbearable.
And when I came back to myself, he was still there, his fingers still inside me, his thumb still on my clit, his golden eyes burning into mine.
“You’re not what I expected,” I whispered, my voice rough.
He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Neither are you.”
And then—
He positioned himself between my thighs.
His cock—thick, heavy, glistening with pre-come—pressed against my entrance. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just looked at him, my storm-gray eyes locking onto his.
“This changes nothing,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He smiled—slow, devastating. “It changes everything.”
And then—
He pushed in.
Not fast. Not rough.
Slow.
Deliberate.
A vow.
I gasped, my body stretching to accommodate him, my magic flaring, the bond screaming. He didn’t stop. Just kept going—inch by inch—until he was fully inside me, buried to the hilt, his hips pressed against mine.
“Jade,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight. So damn perfect.”
I didn’t answer.
Just wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
And then—
He moved.
Slow at first. Then faster. Deeper. Harder. His hips rolled, his cock stroking that spot inside me that made me see stars. I moaned, arching into him, my fingers digging into his back, my magic flaring, the bond pulsing—hot, electric, unbearable.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. “No one else. Not Mira. Not Elira. Not the Council. You’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” I gasped, biting his lip. “Not because of the bond. Not because of fate. But because you *chose* me. And I choose you. Every damn day.”
He didn’t answer.
Just fucked me harder, his thrusts deep, his body a wall of heat and muscle. The magic surged between us—crimson and gold, witch and wolf, flaring like a living flame. The sigils on the bedframe glowed, the sheets tangled, the fire in the hearth roared to life.
And then—
I came.
Hard.
Violent.
A scream tore from my throat, my body convulsing, my core clenching around him. He followed—growling, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he came inside me, hot and thick, filling me, claiming me.
The bond exploded—light, sound, magic—crimson and gold flaring between us like a supernova. The mark on my shoulder burned brighter, spreading, the silver thorns wrapping around my collarbone, the crimson vines curling toward my heart.
And then—
He collapsed on top of me, his body a wall of heat and muscle, his breath ragged against my neck.
I didn’t push him away.
Just held him, my hands sliding to his back, my fingers tracing the scars, the old wounds, the places where he’d been broken and rebuilt.
And when he lifted his head, his golden eyes burning into mine, I knew.
This wasn’t just sex.
This wasn’t just magic.
This was love.
And it was ours.
“You’re not what I expected,” I whispered, my voice rough.
He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Neither are you.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not desperate. Not furious.
Slow.
Deep.
Theirs.
Outside, the keep was silent.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.