The moment Elira was dragged from the Council Chamber in Geneva, the air didn’t just shift—
It shattered.
Not with thunder. Not with fire.
With silence.
The kind that comes before the storm. The kind that hangs in the air like a blade, waiting to fall. The nine Council members sat frozen in their obsidian masks, their hands gripping the arms of their thrones as if afraid the ground might split beneath them. The Free Pack stood like statues—Lyra’s silver blade at her hip, Torin’s fangs bared, the witches’ hands crackling with magic, the fae’s wings half-spread, thorns glinting. Even Kael didn’t move. Just stood there, his golden eyes burning, his hand still clenched where it had gripped Elira’s throat, his body a wall of muscle and fury.
And then—
The silence broke.
Not with a word.
With a scream.
It tore through the chamber like a war cry—high, piercing, laced with ancient magic. The stained-glass dome above us shattered, raining down shards of colored light. The sigils on the walls flared crimson, then black, then nothing. The floor trembled. The air thickened. And then—
They came.
Not soldiers.
Not envoys.
Fae.
Dozens of them—tall, pale, their eyes silver, their hair like spun moonlight. They didn’t walk. They appeared—in bursts of shadow and thorn, their gowns trailing like smoke, their hands glowing with cursed light. They moved in silence, their presence a suffocating weight, their magic twisting the air like a living noose.
And at their head—
Lord Cassien Nox.
Not just a vampire prince.
Elira’s heir.
And now—
Our enemy.
He stepped forward, his coat lined with Council sigils, his fangs bared in a smile too sharp to be real. His eyes—silver, cold—locked onto mine. “You think you’ve won?” he purred, his voice slicing through the chaos. “You think chaining one old woman changes anything? She was a pawn. A relic. And now—” he spread his arms, “—the real game begins.”
Jade didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her storm-gray eyes burning, her hand rising, magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. “Then let it begin,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. “Because I’m not here to play. I’m here to burn.”
He laughed—low, cruel. “You don’t even know what you’ve unleashed.”
And then—
He moved.
Not toward her.
Toward the Council.
One moment he was across the chamber.
The next—
He was at the head of the room, his hand gripping the wrist of the vampire Council member who had condemned Elira. “You think you can strip her of power?” he snarled, his voice low, dangerous. “You think you can erase centuries of fae law with a single decree?”
“The law is clear,” the vampire said, his voice steady. “Treason is treason. Murder is murder. And Elira—”
“Is my blood,” Cassien growled, his fangs flashing. “And if you think I’ll let you drag her through the mud while you sit in judgment—” his hand tightened, “—then you don’t know what *I* am.”
The chamber erupted.
Wolves howling. Witches sending bolts of fire into the air. Vampires baring their fangs. Fae spreading their wings, thorns glinting in the fractured light.
And then—
The doors exploded.
Not from the outside.
From the inside.
Wood and stone shattered, raining down in a storm of debris. And through the wreckage—
They came.
Fae warriors—armored in blackened thorn, their eyes hollow, their hands clutching cursed blades. They moved like shadows, silent, relentless, their magic twisting the air like a living noose. Behind them—vampire soldiers, their fangs bared, their eyes glowing with bloodlust. And at their head—
Lady Nyx Nox.
Cassien’s mother.
The Shadow Weaver.
She stepped through the smoke like a ghost, her gown of midnight silk trailing behind her, her silver eyes burning. Her presence was a wall. A vow. A warning.
“You’ve made a mistake,” she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You’ve challenged the old order. You’ve exposed our lies. And now—” her gaze flicked to Jade, “—you will pay.”
Jade didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, her body a wall of muscle and fury, her magic flaring. “You don’t get to decide what I pay for. Not after what you did to my sister. Not after what you did to Kael. Not after what you’ve done to every hybrid who’s ever been called a monster.”
“And what are you?” Nyx asked, stepping closer. “A witch? A wolf? A woman who came to destroy an Alpha and stayed to save him? You’re a contradiction. A mistake. And if you think love makes you strong—” her voice dropped, “—then you don’t know what power really is.”
“I know what it isn’t,” Jade said, her voice cutting through the silence. “It isn’t fear. It isn’t lies. It isn’t chaining people to their pasts and calling it tradition. And if you think I’ll let you use Elira’s fall to start a war—” her hand rose, pressing to the mark on her shoulder, “—then you don’t know what I am.”
Nyx didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I kill you?”
“Then I die,” Jade said, stepping closer. “But not alone.”
And then—
I moved.
Not toward Nyx.
Not toward Cassien.
Toward Jade.
One moment I was at the edge of the chamber.
The next—
I was at her side, my body a wall between her and the enemy, my golden eyes burning. “You don’t get to fight this alone,” I growled, my voice low, dangerous. “Not this time.”
She didn’t argue. Just pressed her palm to my back, her magic flaring through the bond—hot, electric, alive. “Then fight with me,” she said, her voice rough. “Not as my Alpha. Not as my mate. But as my equal. As the man who chose me. And I choose you. Every damn day.”
My chest cracked.
Not from pain.
From love.
Because she wasn’t just fighting for vengeance.
She was fighting for us.
And I would burn the world down before I let her stand alone.
***
The battle didn’t start with a roar.
It started with a spark.
Jade’s hand rose, fingers spreading, magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. A bolt of fire tore through the air, slamming into the first fae warrior, sending him crashing into the wall. The explosion lit the chamber, casting long, clawed shadows. And then—
Chaos.
Wolves lunged, claws bared, fangs flashing. Witches sent bolts of fire into the air. Vampires descended like ghosts, fangs sinking into throats. Fae spread their wings, thorns glinting, their magic twisting the air like a living noose.
I didn’t wait.
Didn’t hesitate.
Just moved.
My claws flashed—golden and deadly—ripping through the first vampire, his throat slit before he could shift. The second lunged, fangs bared, but a witch sent a bolt of fire into his chest, sending him crashing into the dais. The third tried to flank me, but Torin was on him in an instant, fangs sinking into his neck.
And then—
I saw her.
Nyx.
She stood at the edge of the chaos, her gown untouched by blood, her silver eyes burning. She didn’t fight. Didn’t move. Just watched—really watched—as the chamber burned around her.
And then—
She smiled.
Not in victory.
In promise.
One hand rose, fingers spreading, magic flaring—black and feral, shadow and decay. A wave of cursed energy slammed into the Free Pack, sending witches flying, wolves crashing into walls, vampires collapsing mid-shift.
And then—
She turned.
Not to me.
Not to Jade.
To the Council.
Her voice cut through the chaos, cold, dangerous. “You think you can change the world? You think you can erase centuries of order with a single decree? Then watch.”
Her hand rose.
And the dome above us collapsed.
Not from magic.
From betrayal.
One of the Council members—fae, masked, silent—raised his hand. A sigil flared on his palm—black, twisted, cursed. And then—
The ceiling gave way.
Stone and glass rained down, crushing warriors, splitting the floor, sending fissures through the chamber. The Free Pack scattered, wolves howling, witches casting, vampires running for cover.
And then—
They came.
Fae reinforcements—hundreds of them—pouring through the broken dome, their wings spread, their magic twisting the air like a living noose. They didn’t fight.
They surrounded.
And in the center of it all—
Jade.
She stood in the wreckage, her storm-gray eyes burning, her magic flaring, her body a wall of muscle and fury. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t fall. Just stood there, her presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
Nyx moved.
Fast.
Desperate.
One moment she was at the edge of the chamber.
The next—
She was in Jade’s face, her voice low, dangerous. “You think you’ve won? You think chaining Elira changes anything? She was a pawn. A relic. And now—” her hand rose, pressing to Jade’s chest, “—you’ll take her place.”
Jade didn’t flinch. Just grabbed her wrist, her magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. “You don’t get to decide my fate. Not after what you did to my sister. Not after what you did to Kael. Not after what you’ve done to every hybrid who’s ever been called a monster.”
“And what are you?” Nyx asked, stepping closer. “A witch? A wolf? A woman who came to destroy an Alpha and stayed to save him? You’re a contradiction. A mistake. And if you think love makes you strong—”
“I know what power really is,” Jade said, cutting her off. “It’s not fear. It’s not lies. It’s not chaining people to their pasts and calling it tradition. It’s standing when everyone tells you to kneel. It’s fighting when everyone tells you to run. It’s loving when everyone tells you to hate.”
And then—
She pushed.
Not with magic.
With truth.
A wave of crimson energy slammed into Nyx, sending her flying, crashing into the dais. She didn’t move. Just lay there, her gown torn, her hair matted, her presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
The Free Pack moved.
Not in silence.
Not in shadow.
In the open.
Wolves howled. Witches raised their hands. Vampires bared their fangs. Fae spread their wings.
And then—
We fought.
Not for survival.
Not for power.
For truth.
***
The battle raged for hours.
Not in the chamber.
Not in the city.
In the air.
Every breath was a war cry. Every step was a vow. Every pulse of the bond was a promise.
I fought like a man possessed.
Claws flashing. Fangs bared. Magic flaring—golden and feral, wolf and storm. I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just moved—ripping through enemies, shielding the Free Pack, guarding Jade with my body.
And then—
I saw it.
Cassien.
He stood at the edge of the chaos, his fangs bared, his eyes glowing with bloodlust. He wasn’t fighting. Just watching—really watching—as the chamber burned around him.
And then—
He moved.
Not toward me.
Not toward the Council.
Toward Jade.
One moment he was across the chamber.
The next—
He was behind her, his fangs bared, his hand gripping her throat.
“You don’t get to win,” he snarled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not after what you did to Elira. Not after what you’ve done to my bloodline.”
Jade didn’t struggle. Just pressed her palm to his chest, her magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. “Then die with her,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence.
And then—
She pushed.
Not with magic.
With truth.
A wave of crimson energy slammed into him, sending him flying, crashing into the wall. He didn’t move. Just lay there, his coat torn, his fangs broken, his presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
The Free Pack moved.
Not in silence.
Not in shadow.
In the open.
Wolves howled. Witches raised their hands. Vampires bared their fangs. Fae spread their wings.
And then—
We stood.
Not in victory.
Not in defeat.
In truth.
***
The chamber was silent.
Not from fear.
From awe.
The Free Pack stood in formation—wolves with fire in their eyes, witches with spells at their fingertips, vampires with fangs bared, fae with thorned wings. The Council sat frozen in their obsidian masks, their hands gripping their thrones. Nyx and Cassien lay broken. Elira was gone.
And then—
Jade stepped forward.
Not toward the Council.
Not toward the enemy.
Toward me.
Her hand rose, pressing to the scar on my chest—the one from when I was twelve, when they’d tried to break me. “You’re not what I expected,” she said, her voice rough.
“Neither are you,” I said, stepping closer, my golden eyes burning.
And then—
She kissed me.
Not slow. Not soft.
Hard.
Deep.
Claiming.
Her mouth crashed into mine, hungry, furious, a war cry. I groaned, arching into her, my hands flying to her waist, pulling her against me. She didn’t let me take control. Didn’t let me dominate. Just kissed me—deep, aching, fierce—her tongue sweeping into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine.
The bond exploded—light, sound, magic—crimson and gold flaring between us like a living flame. The sigils on the walls glowed brighter. The mirror cracked further. The fire in the hearth roared to life.
And then—
She broke the kiss.
“You’re not what I expected,” she whispered, her voice rough.
“Neither are you,” I said, pressing my forehead to hers.
And then—
We turned.
Not away from the Council.
Not toward the door.
Toward the Free Pack.
Lyra. Torin. The hybrids.
My storm.
My truth.
And they weren’t here to negotiate.
They were here to burn.
***
Outside, the city was silent.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.