The truth settled into my bones like frost—slow, silent, deadly. Kael hadn’t killed my sister. The ledger was a forgery. Elira had orchestrated it all, using our bond, our hatred, our pain as weapons in a war I hadn’t even known was being fought.
And I had nearly destroyed the one person who might actually help me win it.
We didn’t speak after the truth ritual. Words felt too heavy, too fragile for what had just happened. He held me for a long time—his arms around me, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, his heartbeat steady against my ear. The bond pulsed between us, no longer a chain, but something else. Something warm. Something that felt, terrifyingly, like trust.
Eventually, he pulled back, his hands lingering on my arms as if afraid I’d vanish. “We need to be careful,” he said, voice low. “Elira knows we’re onto her. She’ll escalate.”
I nodded, still unsteady. “What do we do?”
“Play along,” he said. “Let her think she’s still in control. Gather proof. And when the time comes—” His eyes flashed gold. “We burn her down.”
I should’ve felt fear. Should’ve hesitated. But all I felt was relief—and something darker, sharper. Justice. Not the reckless vengeance I’d come for, but something colder. Truer. And for the first time, I wasn’t alone in it.
We agreed to keep the truth between us. For now. To act as if nothing had changed. The Council couldn’t know the bond had deepened, that we were no longer enemies. Not yet. Not until we had enough to bring Elira down without sparking a war.
So we returned to the façade—cold glances, clipped words, the careful distance of two people bound by magic but not trust. But the bond knew. It hummed beneath my skin, warm and insistent, a secret we both carried.
And then, at dawn, the storm broke.
Not outside. Not in the sky.
In the heart of Blackthorn Keep.
***
I woke to whispers.
Not the wind. Not the storm. But voices—hushed, urgent, slithering through the stone corridors like serpents. I sat up, the fur coverlet slipping from my shoulders, my pulse already quickening. The bond flared—Kael was awake, already moving, his presence a sharp pull in my chest.
I dressed quickly—black trousers, a fitted tunic, my hair pulled back in a braid. No illusions. No pretense. I was Jade now, not Seris Vale. And whatever was happening, I would face it as myself.
Kael was already at the door when I stepped into the sitting room, his coat slung over one shoulder, his expression unreadable. But his scent—pine and iron, storm and something darker—was tight, controlled. Suppressed.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He didn’t look at me. “You’ll see.”
Before I could press, Torin appeared in the hall, his dark eyes sharp. “Alpha. Jade. You need to come. Now.”
Kael nodded, stepping past him. I followed, my boots silent on the stone, the whispers growing louder as we moved through the keep. Wolves paused in the corridors, their ears twitching. Fae attendants exchanged glances. Vampires lingered in doorways, their smiles too knowing.
Something had happened.
Something big.
We reached the east wing—the private chambers, where only the Alpha and his inner circle were allowed. A crowd had gathered outside Kael’s bedroom door, a wall of shifting bodies, murmuring voices, hungry eyes.
Lyra stood at the front, her arms crossed, her expression stony. She turned as we approached, her gaze flicking to me, then to Kael.
“She’s still inside,” she said, voice low.
“Who?” I asked, though I already knew. I could feel it—a shift in the air, a scent that didn’t belong. Female. Vampire. Too sweet.
Kael didn’t answer. He stepped forward, and the crowd parted like water. The door was ajar. He pushed it open.
And there she was.
She sat on the edge of the bed—long legs bare, a man’s shirt draped over her shoulders, the top buttons undone, revealing the pale curve of her breasts. Her hair was a cascade of dark waves, her lips painted blood-red, her eyes—deep, knowing—locking onto Kael the moment he entered.
“Kael,” she purred, rising slowly. “You’re finally awake.”
My breath caught.
She was beautiful. Undeniably. But it wasn’t just her looks. It was the way she moved—slow, deliberate, like a predator savoring the hunt. The way her scent curled through the room—dark wine, iron, and something cloying, artificial. The way her gaze lingered on Kael, not with love, but with possession.
And then I saw it.
The shirt.
Black wool. Wolf pelt trim. The Blackthorn sigil embroidered on the cuff.
His shirt.
Worn by another woman.
My magic flared—crimson sparks dancing at my fingertips, the air crackling with power. The bond screamed, a raw, feral snarl in my blood, coiling tight in my chest. Heat flooded my core, sudden and violent. Not fever. Not magic.
Jealousy.
“Mira,” Kael said, his voice dangerously calm. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
She smiled, stepping closer. “Waiting for you. We had a long night, remember?” Her fingers brushed the collar of the shirt. “You said I could wear this. A… souvenir.”
My stomach dropped.
“Liar,” I spat, stepping forward. “He’d never let you—”
“Jade,” Kael said, not looking at me. “Stay out of this.”
“No,” I said, my voice shaking. “She’s lying. You weren’t here last night. You were—” I stopped. Couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit, in front of this crowd, that we’d been together. That he’d held me. That he’d trusted me.
Mira’s smile widened. “Oh?” She turned to me, her eyes gleaming. “And where was he, then? With you?” She laughed, low, mocking. “How pathetic. The fated mate, desperate for scraps of attention.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my magic flaring brighter.
“I know he screamed my name when he came,” she whispered, stepping even closer. “I know how he likes it—rough, deep, violent. And I know he’ll never give that to you.”
The words hit like a blade.
My vision blurred. My chest tightened. The bond roared, a living thing feeding on my rage, on my humiliation, on the sharp, suffocating pain in my chest.
And then—
Shattering glass.
The window behind Mira exploded, shards raining down like ice. The crowd gasped, stepping back. Mira flinched, her perfect composure cracking for the first time.
I hadn’t meant to do it.
But my magic had.
And it wasn’t done.
“You’re lying,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “You weren’t here. You couldn’t have been.”
“Prove it,” she challenged, lifting her chin.
I turned to Kael. “Tell her.”
He didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes gold-flecked, his scent flaring—wolf and storm, dominance and something darker, something that made my stomach clench.
But he didn’t speak.
And that silence—
It destroyed me.
“You see?” Mira said, stepping back toward the bed, her fingers trailing the sheets. “He can’t even deny it. Because it’s true.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, it’s not.”
But the doubt was already there. A crack in the fragile trust we’d built. Had he lied to me? Had last night meant nothing? Had the truth ritual, the blood-sharing, the way he’d held me—it all just been a game?
“You think he’d choose you?” Mira said, her voice soft, almost pitying. “You think a man like Kael Blackthorn—Alpha, predator, killer—would ever want someone like you?”
“Shut up,” I snarled, my magic surging.
“He needed a fated mate for the Council,” she said. “A pawn. A weapon. And you? You’re disposable. Replaceable.”
“I said—shut up!”
I raised my hand.
Fire erupted—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined, a blazing arc of power aimed straight at her.
But Kael moved first.
In one fluid motion, he stepped in front of Mira, shielding her, his arm extended, a barrier of pure will rising between us. My fire hit it and splintered, scattering like embers.
“Enough,” he growled, turning to me. “Stand down.”
“You’re protecting her?” I said, my voice breaking. “After what she’s done?”
“She’s not worth it,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “Don’t let her win.”
“She’s already won,” I said, tears burning in my eyes. “Because you let her wear your shirt. You let her say those things. You didn’t deny it.”
His expression didn’t change. But I saw it—the flicker in his eyes. The way his jaw tightened. The scent of fae magic—sharp, ancient—that clung to him when he was afraid.
And then I knew.
He was afraid.
Not of Mira.
Of me.
Of what I’d do if I found out the truth.
“Get out,” I said, stepping back. “Both of you.”
“Jade—”
“Get out!”
The command tore from my throat, raw, feral. My magic flared, the bond screaming, the room trembling with power.
Kael hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Torin. Escort Mira to the guest wing. She’s not to leave. And if she speaks to anyone—” His gaze locked onto hers. “I’ll rip out her tongue.”
Mira paled. But she didn’t argue. Just followed Torin out, her head high, her smile gone.
The crowd dispersed, whispers rising like smoke.
And then it was just us.
The bond pulsed—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. My breath came fast. My skin burned.
“You should’ve told me,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“I was going to,” he said. “But not like this. Not with the whole keep watching.”
“So it’s true, then?” I asked. “You were with her?”
“Years ago,” he said. “Before the bond. Before you.”
“And the shirt? The things she said?”
“She stole it,” he said. “And the rest—lies. All of it.”
“Then why didn’t you say that?”
“Because the bond,” he said, stepping closer. “It reacts to jealousy. To betrayal. If I’d denied it too fast, too loudly, the magic would’ve sensed the lie—even if I was telling the truth. It would’ve punished us both.”
My breath caught.
He was right.
The bond was primal. Ancient. It didn’t care about logic. Only emotion. Only truth.
And I had just given it a feast.
“I didn’t want you to see her,” he said, his voice rough. “I didn’t want you to hear those things. But she’s a pawn, Jade. Just like you were. Used by Elira to manipulate me. To break us.”
“And you let her wear your shirt?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “She took it. And I let her think she’d won. Because if I’d fought her too hard, too fast, she’d have known I cared. And then she’d have escalated.”
I stared at him. My chest ached. My magic still flared, unstable, wild.
But the bond—
It was calm.
Steady.
Because it knew.
Kael wasn’t lying.
And Mira—
She’d lost.
“You should’ve told me,” I said again, softer this time.
“I should have,” he agreed. “But I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” I said, lifting my chin. “I need the truth.”
He stepped closer, his hand reaching for mine. “Then take it.”
I didn’t pull away.
Our fingers intertwined. The bond flared—hot, electric, alive. Magic surged between us, crimson and gold, witch and wolf, flaring like a living flame.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not soft.
Desperate.His mouth crashed into mine, hungry, furious, claiming. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place, his body pressing me against the wall. I gasped, arching into him, my hands flying to his chest, my magic flaring, the bond screaming with need.
It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t forgiveness.
It was survival.
A war cry. A declaration. A promise.
You’re mine.
His other hand slid under my shirt, calloused fingers trailing my spine, heat flooding my core. I moaned, breaking the kiss, my breath ragged, my lips swollen.
“You’re not hers,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “You’re not anyone’s but mine.”
He didn’t answer.
Just kissed me again—harder, deeper, his teeth grazing my lower lip, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I bit back a cry, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my body arching, aching, needing.
And then—
His hand slipped under my shirt.
His palm pressed against my bare stomach, heat flooding me, his thumb brushing the edge of my breast—
And the world exploded.
Light. Sound. Magic. The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable. Our pulses synced. Our breaths tangled. My back arched, my head falling back against the wall, a moan tearing from my throat.
And then—
Darkness.
***
I came back to myself slowly—dazed, trembling, my body still humming with heat. Kael was still pressed against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder, his breath ragged, his hand still under my shirt, his fingers splayed across my stomach.
The bond pulsed—warm, insistent, alive.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
“You’re mine,” he growled, lifting his head, his golden eyes burning into mine. “No one else. Not Mira. Not Elira. Not the Council. You’re mine.”
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve slapped him. Should’ve reminded him that I wasn’t his property, that I wasn’t some prize to be claimed.
But I didn’t.
Because in that moment, I believed him.
And worse—
I wanted to be.
“Prove it,” I whispered, my voice rough.
He didn’t hesitate.
He bit my lip—hard enough to sting, soft enough to thrill. Then he kissed me again, slow, deep, claiming. And when he pulled back, his thumb brushed my lower lip, his voice a dark promise.
“I will.”
Outside, the whispers continued.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the storm that had just begun.