The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the Blackthorn Keep war room wasn’t the blood on the floor—though there was plenty of that, dark and drying in the cracks of the obsidian tiles. It wasn’t the shattered mirror, or the scorched sigils along the walls, or even the lingering scent of magic—crimson and gold, witch and wolf entwined, still humming beneath my skin like a live wire.
No.
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the kind that follows a storm. Not the kind that comes after a battle.
The kind that comes after a reckoning.
Jade stood at the center of the room, barefoot, her storm-gray eyes burning, her hands clenched into fists. Her tunic was torn at the shoulder, her hair loose, her mark—silver thorns intertwined with crimson vines—pulsing faintly against her collarbone. Kael was beside her, shirtless, scars on display, his golden eyes scanning the shadows like a predator. Lyra stood near the door, her silver blade sheathed but her hand never far from the hilt. Torin leaned against the wall, his coat gone, his fangs still bared, his presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
They saw me.
Jade didn’t flinch. Just turned her head, her gaze locking onto mine. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” I said, stepping forward, my boots silent on the stone. “Vampires don’t like to fly in daylight. Something about the sun and existential dread.”
She didn’t smile. Just stepped closer, her voice low, dangerous. “You said you had proof.”
“I do.”
“Then give it to me.”
I didn’t answer. Just reached into the inner pocket of my coat—black, tailored, lined with silver thread—and pulled out a dossier. Blood-red. Sealed with wax the color of dried roses. The kind only a vampire prince would use. The kind only a Council heir would trust.
“This,” I said, holding it up, “is everything. Every blood pact Cassien ever made. Every secret alliance. Every lie he sold to the Council under Elira’s name. And most importantly—” I flipped it open, revealing a page filled with sigils, names, dates, “—the proof that he wasn’t just her heir. He was her weapon.”
Jade took it, her fingers trembling—not from fear, but from fury. She scanned the pages, her storm-gray eyes burning. “He used blood pacts to control Council members?”
“Three exchanges,” I said, stepping closer. “That’s all it takes. One kiss. One bite. One whispered vow in the dark. And then—” I snapped my fingers, “—they’re his. Bound by blood. Obligated by magic. And if they try to break it?” I tapped the page. “Death. Slow. Painful. Public.”
She didn’t flinch. Just turned to Kael. “You knew about this.”
He didn’t answer. Just nodded, his golden eyes burning. “I suspected. But I couldn’t prove it. Not without risking the pack. Not without—”
“Without trusting me,” she said, stepping closer. “You thought I’d use it. That I’d expose you. That I’d turn on you.”
“And you wouldn’t have?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.
“No,” she said, stepping into his space, her storm-gray eyes locking onto his. “Because I’m not what I expected. And neither are you.”
The bond flared—hot, electric, unbearable. I didn’t look away. Just let it burn, let it crackle, let it remind me of what I’d never have. Not like they did. Not like they were.
And then—
She turned to me.
“Where did you get this?”
“A fae spy,” I said, not flinching. “One who owes me a favor. Or three. Or possibly her life. Depends on the day.”
“And you trust her?”
“No,” I said, stepping closer, my voice low. “But I trust the magic. The sigils are real. The blood is his. And if you think I’d risk walking into this war room with a forged dossier—” I tapped my chest, “—then you don’t know me at all.”
She didn’t answer. Just stepped back, the dossier clutched in her hand, her storm-gray eyes burning. “Then we move. Now.”
***
We didn’t go to Geneva.
Not yet.
Because Cassien wasn’t in Geneva.
He was in Prague.
The Vampire Citadel—ancient, foreboding, its spires piercing the sky like fangs, its streets paved with blood and lies. It stood at the heart of the city, a monolithic structure of black stone and silver veins, its entrance guarded by two statues—vampires, their eyes hollow, their hands raised in false unity. The air was thick with magic—crimson and gold, witch and wolf entwined—but beneath it—something colder. Something calculated.
We arrived at midnight.
Not in silence.
Not in shadow.
>In the open.The Free Pack moved like a living storm—wolves howling, witches casting, vampires running ahead to scout, fae spreading their wings to watch the skies. Jade walked at the front, barefoot, her mark pulsing, her magic flaring. Kael was at her side, shirtless, scars on display, his golden eyes burning. I walked behind them, my coat lined with silver thread, my fangs bared, my presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
The gates opened.
Not by hand.
Not by magic.
By invitation.
The iron bars retracted, sliding into the stone like serpents. And from the darkness—
He emerged.
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 Jade. “You think you’ve won?” he purred, his voice slicing through the silence. “You think chaining Elira 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.
Not toward the Free Pack.
Toward the dossier.
One moment he was across the courtyard.
The next—
He was in her face, his hand gripping the blood-red file, his fangs flashing. “You think this changes anything? You think exposing my pacts makes me weak? They were necessary. They were strategic. And if you think I’ll let you use them to destroy me—” his voice dropped, “—then you don’t know what power really is.”
“I know what it isn’t,” Jade said, stepping closer, her magic flaring. “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.”
He didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I kill you?”
“Then I die,” she said, stepping closer. “But not alone.”
And then—
Kael moved.
Not toward Cassien.
Not toward the dossier.
Toward Jade.
One moment he was at the edge of the courtyard.
The next—
He was at her side, his body a wall between her and the enemy, his golden eyes burning. “You don’t get to fight this alone,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not this time.”
She didn’t argue. Just pressed her palm to his 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 envy.
Because I’d never had that. Never known that kind of love. That kind of trust. That kind of fire.
And then—
I stepped forward.
Not toward the fight.
Not toward the enemy.
Toward the truth.
My hand rose, fingers spreading, magic flaring—crimson and wild, vampire and shadow. A wave of energy slammed into the dossier, not to destroy, but to reveal. The glamour shattered—like glass, like lies—and beneath it—
Truth.
Not just the pacts.
Not just the lies.
The blood.
His blood.
And the names.
Every Council member he’d bound. Every secret he’d sold. Every life he’d ruined.
The courtyard erupted.
Wolves howling. Witches raising their hands. Vampires baring their fangs. Fae spreading their wings.
And then—
Cassien moved.
Fast.
Desperate.
One moment he was in front of Jade.
The next—
He was in my face, his fangs bared, his voice low, dangerous. “You think you’re clever? You think exposing my pacts makes you a hero? You’re a dealer. A spy. A man who sells secrets for power and protection. And if you think I won’t make you pay—” his hand rose, pressing to my chest, “—then you don’t know what I am.”
I didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I kill you?”
He didn’t answer.
Just lunged.
But I was faster.
One hand caught his wrist, the other driving a silver dagger into his gut. He gasped, his body convulsing, his blood pooling on the stone. I didn’t let go. Just twisted the blade, deep, deliberate, a promise.
“You don’t get to decide my fate,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “Not after what you did to Jade. Not after what you did to Kael. Not after what you’ve done to every hybrid who’s ever been called a monster.”
He didn’t answer.
Just laughed—low, cruel. “You think this changes anything? You think killing me stops the war? It doesn’t. It just makes you a killer. A traitor. A man who chose the wrong side.”
“And what side is that?” I asked, stepping closer, the dagger still in his gut. “The side of truth? The side of love? The side of the storm?”
He didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “Then die with them.”
And then—
I pushed.
Not with magic.
With truth.
A wave of crimson energy slammed into him, not from the dagger, but from the bond, from the magic, from the fire that had been burning in my chest since I first saw Jade walk into Blackthorn Keep.
He fell.
Not slowly.
Not gently.
With *force*.
One hand shoved him back, sending him crashing into the dais. 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 Citadel 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. Cassien lay broken. The remnants of his army retreated into the shadows, their presence fading like smoke.
And then—
Jade stepped forward.
Not toward the enemy.
Not toward the Council.
Toward me.
Her hand rose, pressing to my cheek, her storm-gray eyes burning. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” I said, stepping closer, my voice rough. “Because you’re not just my cousin. You’re my sister. My family. And if I’d let him hurt you—” my voice broke, “—then I wouldn’t be worthy of your trust.”
She didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into a hug, her body a wall of heat and muscle. The bond flared—hot, electric, alive. My breath caught. My magic flared. The sigils on the walls glowed faintly, ancient power stirring, responding to the truth we’d finally spoken.
And then—
Kael moved.
Not toward Jade.
Not toward me.
Toward Cassien.
One hand gripped his arm, the other pressing to his throat, his golden eyes burning. “You don’t get to touch her,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not again. Not ever.”
Cassien didn’t struggle. Just laughed—low, cruel. “You think you can stop me? You’re half-fae. Half-wolf. A killer. A rebel. And I—” his voice dropped, “—am your enemy.”
“And I’m yours,” Kael said, stepping closer. “And if you think I’ll let you use lies to tear us apart—” his grip tightened, “—then you’ll learn what the storm really is.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned to Jade, his silver eyes burning. “You think this changes anything? The war has just begun.”
“And I’ll be ready,” she said, stepping closer, her storm-gray eyes locking onto his. “Because I’m not what I expected. And neither are you.”
And then—
Kael let him go.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
With *force*.
One hand shoved him back, sending him crashing into the dais. He didn’t fight. Just stood there, his coat torn, his fangs broken, his presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
The guards took him.
Not with kindness.
Not with mercy.
With chains.
Moonsteel. Forged in blood. Sealed with magic.
And as they dragged him away—
He laughed.
Low.
Cruel.
Like a promise.
***
The Citadel 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 didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just sat in silence, their masks hiding their faces, their hands gripping their thrones.
And then—
One of them stood.
A vampire, his coat lined with Council sigils, his eyes silver. He didn’t look at Cassien. Just stepped forward, unrolling a scroll sealed with wax the color of dried blood.
“By order of the Supernatural Council,” he intoned, his voice cold, “Prince Cassien Nox, Heir of the Vampire Citadel, you are hereby charged with treason, murder, and the unlawful manipulation of interspecies law. You are to surrender your title, your weapons, and your seat, and submit to immediate imprisonment pending trial.”
Cassien didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I refuse?”
“Then you will be taken by force,” he said, not looking up. “And your bloodline will be erased.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned to me, his silver eyes burning. “You’re good at this.”
I didn’t smile. Just stepped forward, my voice low, dangerous. “Told you the sex would be apocalyptic.”
And then—
The guards took him.
Not with kindness.
Not with mercy.
With chains.
Moonsteel. Forged in blood. Sealed with magic.
And as they dragged him away—
He laughed.
Low.
Cruel.
Like a promise.
***
Outside, the city was silent.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.