The storm had passed, but the silence between Kael and me was worse than thunder.
We moved through the morning like ghosts—side by side in the dining hall, then the council chambers, exchanging clipped words, careful glances, the kind of politeness that felt like a knife pressed to the throat. He didn’t mention last night. Didn’t acknowledge the almost-kiss, the heat, the way our hands had locked like we were drowning and only each other could keep us afloat. He didn’t have to. The bond pulsed between us, louder than words, a living thing that remembered every breath, every heartbeat, every unspoken truth.
And I remembered too.
How close his lips had been. How his voice had cracked when he said, *“You already do.”* How he’d stepped back, giving me space I didn’t know I needed—didn’t know I craved.
It was dangerous. All of it.
Because the longer I stayed near him, the more I questioned. The more I hesitated. The more I wondered—
Was he really the monster I’d come to destroy?
And that was unacceptable.
I had a mission. A vow. My sister’s blood had soaked into the snow outside these walls, and I would not let her death be buried beneath the weight of a traitorous heartbeat or the heat of an almost-kiss.
No.
I would find the truth. Not from Kael’s lips, not from his golden eyes that seemed to see too much. From evidence. From proof. From the kind of cold, hard facts that couldn’t be twisted by desire or softened by regret.
And if that truth pointed to Kael—
Then I would destroy him.
Even if it broke me.
***
The opportunity came that afternoon.
Kael was summoned to the war room—some territorial dispute with the Southern Packs, a minor skirmish that required the Alpha’s presence. He’d looked at me before he left, his gaze lingering just a second too long, the bond flaring between us like a spark in dry tinder.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he’d said, voice low.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I’d replied, smiling sweetly.
He’d known I was lying. I could see it in the tightening of his jaw, the way his scent flared—pine and iron, dominance and something darker, something that made my stomach clench.
But he’d gone anyway.
And the moment the door clicked shut behind him, I moved.
I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second-guess. I crossed the suite in three strides, my boots silent on the stone, and slipped into his study—a room I’d only glimpsed in passing, a fortress of power and secrets. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, leather, and something else—something sharp, almost fae. Magic. Ancient. Tightly controlled.
The room was vast—shelves lined with tomes bound in wolf hide, maps of the Northern Territories pinned to the walls, a massive oak desk dominating the center, its surface cluttered with scrolls, quills, and a silver dagger engraved with the Blackthorn sigil.
I went straight to the desk.
Drawers. Locks. Wards.
Of course.
Kael wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t leave proof of murder lying around like a misplaced letter.
But I wasn’t a fool either.
I pressed my palm to the center drawer, closed my eyes, and let my magic rise—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. The enchantment on the lock flared, a silvery barrier meant to repel intruders, to scream betrayal at the first touch of an enemy.
But I wasn’t just an enemy.
I was his fated mate.
The bond hummed in my wrist, warm, insistent. And the ward—
It recognized me.
Not as a threat.
As his.
The lock clicked open.
I didn’t waste time celebrating. I yanked the drawer open and began to search—scrolls of land treaties, reports from pack enforcers, financial records. Nothing. Nothing that pointed to my sister. Nothing that tied Kael to her death.
Then, at the back of the drawer, hidden beneath a false panel—
A ledger.
Bound in black leather, the cover unmarked. But I knew. I *felt* it. The moment my fingers brushed the spine, my magic flared, a sharp, painful jolt shooting up my arm. This was no ordinary record. This was blood magic. Truth magic. The kind only a witch could bind—and only a witch could read.
I pulled it out, my breath shallow, my pulse racing. The bond pulsed in warning, a low thrum beneath my skin, as if it knew what I was about to do. As if it was trying to stop me.
Too late.
I flipped open the cover.
The first pages were mundane—supply orders, patrol rotations, names of pack members. But then—
Then I saw it.
March 14. Southern Hybrid Envoy. Termination authorized.
My breath stopped.
And beneath it—
Kael Blackthorn.
His signature. Bold. Unmistakable. Written in ink that shimmered faintly, as if bound by magic.
No.
No, no, no.
It couldn’t be.
My hands trembled. My vision blurred. The room spun. The bond flared—hot, panicked, a scream in my blood. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the fever, about the magic spiraling beneath my skin, about the way my body screamed for Kael’s touch even as my heart shattered.
He’d done it.
He’d *signed* it.
My sister. My blood. My only family. Murdered on his order. Cold. Calculated. Authorized.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, bile rising in my throat. The grief I’d buried for three years erupted like a volcano—raw, violent, suffocating. I could see her face. Her smile. The way she’d hugged me the last time I saw her, whispering, *“I’ll bring peace, Jade. I’ll make them listen.”*
And they had listened.
By killing her.
By silencing her.
And Kael—
Kael had let it happen.
Worse. He’d ordered it.
I slammed the ledger shut, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My magic flared—crimson sparks dancing at my fingertips, the air crackling with power. I wanted to burn it. To burn the room. To burn *him*.
But I didn’t.
Because I needed proof.
I needed the Council.
I needed justice.
I tucked the ledger into the inner pocket of my coat, my fingers brushing the vial of my sister’s blood at my throat—the key to truth magic, the final piece of the puzzle. With this, I could expose him. I could stand before the Council, show them the ledger, force them to see the monster beneath the Alpha’s mask.
And then—
Then I would watch him fall.
“Find what you were looking for?”
The voice hit me like a physical blow.
I whirled.
Kael stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light of the hall. His coat was gone. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the scars on his forearms—old wounds, deep and jagged. His eyes glowed faintly gold, wolf-light. His scent—storm and iron, dominance and something darker—flooded the room, making my knees weak.
He hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t given any warning. But I should’ve known. The bond had flared the moment he stepped into the suite, a jolt of heat beneath my skin. I’d ignored it. Too consumed by rage. By grief. By the need for truth.
And now he was here.
And he knew.
“You have no right to be in here,” he said, stepping forward, his voice low, dangerous.
“You have no right to *live*,” I spat, backing away, my hand closing around the hilt of the silver dagger on his desk.
He didn’t flinch. Just kept coming, his strides slow, deliberate. “You think that ledger proves something?”
“It proves you ordered her death,” I said, my voice shaking. “It proves you’re a murderer.”
He stopped just inches from me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched when our pulses synced. His gaze dropped to my pocket—the one where the ledger was hidden.
“You don’t know what you’re holding,” he said, voice rough.
“I know enough,” I shot back. “I know you signed it. I know you killed her.”
“I didn’t,” he said, stepping even closer. “And if you’d stop long enough to *think*, you’d know that too.”
“Don’t you *dare*,” I hissed, yanking the dagger from the desk. “Don’t you dare try to twist this. Don’t you dare try to make me doubt—”
He moved.
Fast. Too fast.
One second, he was in front of me. The next, the dagger was on the floor, my wrist pinned above my head, my back pressed against the bookshelf, the sharp edges of ancient tomes digging into my spine.
His other hand closed around my throat—not tight enough to choke, but enough to hold, to remind me who was stronger, who was Alpha.
“You want to believe I did it,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “Because it’s easier than facing the truth—that the world is full of monsters, and not all of them wear my face.”
“Let me go,” I snarled, struggling, but my magic was erratic, flaring and dying, the bond feeding on my rage, turning it into something hotter, something that made my core clench.
“Or what?” he challenged, leaning in. His breath was warm against my lips. His scent wrapped around me, intoxicating. “You’ll kill me? You think the bond would let you? You’d die with me, Jade. And for what? For a lie?”
“It’s not a lie!” I shouted, tears burning in my eyes. “Your signature is on it! You *authorized* her death!”
He didn’t release me. Just stared into my eyes, his golden gaze burning into mine. “And if I told you someone forged it? That someone *wanted* you to find it? That they’re using this bond—using *us*—to manipulate the Council, to start a war?”
I laughed—bitter, broken. “That’s rich. The killer claims he’s the victim.”
“I’m not the killer,” he said, his voice dropping, rough. “But I know who is.”
My breath caught.
“Who?” I whispered.
He hesitated. Then, slowly, his hand slid from my throat to my wrist, his thumb brushing over the sigil. A jolt of heat shot through me, straight to my core. I gasped, arching slightly.
“Elira,” he said.
The name hit me like ice water.
Lady Elira. Fae Duchess. Council elder. The woman who’d smiled at me like she knew my secrets.
“She’s the one who purged the hybrids,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “She’d have no reason to protect my sister.”
“No,” he agreed. “But she has every reason to destroy *me*.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, his expression unreadable. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent. Our breaths tangled. His thumb still brushed my wrist, sending waves of heat through me.
And then I saw it.
The flicker in his eyes. The way his jaw tightened. The scent of fae magic—sharp, ancient, *familiar*—that clung to him when he was angry, when he was afraid.
“You’re not just Alpha,” I said slowly. “You’re half-fae.”
He didn’t deny it.
And in that moment, I understood.
Elira wasn’t just a political enemy.
She was his blood.
“She’s your grandmother,” I whispered.
He flinched.
And that was all the confirmation I needed.
She’d framed him. Used his name, his signature, to implicate him in my sister’s murder. To turn me against him. To fracture the bond. To start a war.
And I’d walked right into it.
My stomach dropped. My magic faltered. The ledger in my pocket felt like a lead weight, burning against my skin.
“You think I’d let her win?” Kael said, his voice low, dangerous. “You think I’d let her use you to destroy me?”
“Then prove it,” I said, lifting my chin. “Prove you didn’t sign that order.”
He stepped back, releasing me. “There’s only one way.”
“What?”
“Truth magic,” he said. “Blood to blood. You’ll need your sister’s vial. I’ll give you mine. We’ll test the ledger together. If my blood rejects the signature, it’s a forgery.”
My breath caught.
It was risky. Truth magic was volatile, unpredictable. And blood-sharing with Kael—
It would deepen the bond. Could trigger heat. Could make me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel.
But I had no choice.
Because if he was lying—
I needed to know.
And if he was telling the truth—
Then I’d been wrong.
About everything.
“Fine,” I said, pulling the vial from my throat. “But if you’re lying—”
“You’ll kill me,” he finished. “I know.”
He held out his wrist, slicing it with the silver dagger in one smooth motion. Blood—dark, rich—welled up.
I uncorked the vial. My sister’s blood glowed faintly crimson, humming with latent magic.
And then I pressed the vial to his wound.
The moment our blood touched, the room exploded.
Light—crimson and gold—flared between us, magic surging like a storm. The bond screamed, a living thing feeding on the power, on the intimacy, on the raw, unfiltered truth of the act.
And then—
The ledger flew open.
The page turned.
And the signature—
It burned.
Not with fire.
With *rejection*.
Kael’s blood writhed across the ink, hissing, recoiling, as if the magic itself knew the truth—this was not his hand. Not his will. Not his soul.
It was a forgery.
He was innocent.
My knees buckled.
Kael caught me, his arms wrapping around me, his body pressing against mine. Heat flooded me—his heat, the bond’s heat, the heat of shame and grief and something else, something terrifyingly close to relief.
“You see?” he murmured, his voice rough against my ear. “I didn’t kill her.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The ledger fell from my hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor.
He hadn’t done it.
And I’d almost destroyed him.
“But who did?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
He held me tighter. “Someone who wants us to destroy each other.”
“Elira.”
“Yes.”
“And my sister?”
He hesitated. Then: “She was getting close. To the truth. To *me*. Elira couldn’t let that happen.”
My breath caught. “She killed her to protect you?”
“No,” he said, his voice dark. “To control me. To make me afraid. To make me *hers*.”
I looked up at him—really looked. Saw the scars, the shadows, the loneliness beneath the Alpha’s mask.
And for the first time—
I believed him.
The mission had been a lie.
The vengeance—
Was misplaced.
And the man I’d come to destroy—
Was the only one who’d tried to save me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just held me, his heartbeat syncing with mine, the bond pulsing between us—warm, unbroken, alive.
And in that moment, I knew.
The war wasn’t over.
It had only just begun.
But this time—
We’d fight it together.