MasukThe silence between us stretches until it hurts.Riven stands a few steps away, shoulders rigid, jaw locked so tight I can almost hear his teeth grind. The firelight from the torches along the corridor throws sharp shadows across his face, carving him into something harder—more distant—than the man who once held me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this world.My chest aches. Not from fear. From waiting.“You said there was more,” I finally whispered. “Say it.”His eyes lift to mine, silver flashing like drawn blades. “I knew.”The words strike harder than any slap.“Knew what?” I ask, though some terrible part of me already understands.“Our mate bonds,” he says. “Long before you returned to Shadowfang. Before the council. Before Damien made his move.”The corridor tilts. I grab the stone wall to steady myself, my fingers trembling as if the ground itself has betrayed me.“You… knew?” My voice cracks. “And you didn’t tell me?”Riven exhales sharply, dragging a hand through h
Riven doesn’t speak at first.He just stands there, blocking the corridor with his body, the torchlight carving hard shadows across his face. The heat of him presses into my skin, into the bond that has refused to quiet since the council chamber burned. His eyes—those cold, dangerous eyes—search my face like he’s weighing whether I’m a threat… or a weakness.“You ran,” he says finally. His voice is low, controlled. Too controlled. “Again.”“I needed air,” I reply, though we both know it’s a lie.The truth sits heavy in my chest. The whispers I overheard still echo in my ears—warriors arguing in hushed tones, choosing sides as if the pack were already fractured beyond repair. As if blood alone no longer bound us.As if I were the prize that would decide everything.Riven steps closer. The bond flares, sharp and unrelenting, like it’s screaming for me to lean into him, to trust him. I hate that part of it. I hate that even now, when doubt coils in my stomach, my body still recognizes hi
I froze the moment the branch snapped beneath my boot.The night seemed to inhale around me, the forest going unnaturally still as the murmured voices I’d been listening to cut off mid-sentence. Moonlight filtered through the trees, silvering the damp earth and exposing me where I crouched behind the fallen log. Too late to run. Too late to hide.A shadow detached itself from the darkness.“Come out,” a male voice said calmly. Too calmly. “Unless you want me to drag you out.”My heart hammered, the witch’s mark on my wrist prickling with heat. I straightened slowly, stepping into the open. The warrior stood a few paces away—tall, broad-shouldered, with the pack insignia stitched into his cloak. I recognized him now. Jarek. One of Damien’s favored blades. Not openly loyal, not openly treacherous. The worst kind.His gaze slid over me, sharp and assessing, before settling on my face.“Well,” he drawled. “Looks like the future of Shadowfang has sharp ears.”“I wasn’t spying,” I said, tho
The night no longer felt like a refuge.Shadowfang’s corridors were quieter than they had ever been, yet the silence carried weight—heavy, watchful, dangerous. Every torch flickered too sharply. Every passing shadow felt like a blade waiting to fall.I shouldn’t have been wandering alone.But sleep had abandoned me the moment I closed my eyes. Every time I tried, I saw Selene’s fire, the shattered council chamber, Damien’s triumphant smile, and Riven’s face—caught between fury, fear, and something dangerously close to loss.I wrapped my cloak tighter around myself and slipped through a narrow passage near the eastern wing, the stone cool beneath my bare feet. The pack was restless tonight. I could feel it in the air, in the way the mate bond pulsed uneasily in my chest, like it was bracing for impact.That was when I heard voices.Low. Urgent. Male.I froze.My instincts screamed at me to retreat, but curiosity—and something sharper, more fatal—rooted me in place. I pressed myself aga
The ashes hadn’t finished falling when I realized power is lonelier than fear.Smoke still curled through the shattered council chamber, thick with the stench of blood, burned stone, and magic gone feral. Bodies lay where authority once stood—elders, judges, men who had decided fates with lifted chins and sharpened tongues. Now they were silent. Scattered. Broken.And I was standing.My shadow burned like a living crown around my shoulders, alive and restless, answering to my breath instead of rage. The ground beneath my bare feet was warm, cracked open by my will. I could feel Shadowfang itself pulsing under me, as if the land recognized my claim long before I spoke it aloud.Riven stood to my left, blood streaked across his jaw, his eyes still the same storm that had haunted my dreams since the bond snapped tight between us. Damien stood to my right, unmarked by the flames, smiling like this devastation had always belonged to him.Both of them reached for me.Not with hands.With ex
The world comes back to me in pieces—heat first, then pain, then the weight of silence.Smoke coils thick and bitter around the shattered council chamber. Stone groans under its own ruin, embers falling like dying stars. I push myself upright, coughing, my palms sinking into ash and cracked marble. My body should be broken. I can feel where the ceiling collapsed, where fire swallowed the air——but I am alive.More than alive.Power hums beneath my skin, restless and bright, shadows curling around me like living silk. They recoil from the flames, devouring smoke, holding the rubble at bay as if the darkness itself refuses to let me fall.I rise.The chamber reveals itself in brutal clarity. Council seats lie overturned, some crushed entirely, others stained dark with blood. Those who judged me, who shackled me, who fed Damien’s lies—gone or fleeing, scattering like frightened prey into the tunnels beyond.Shadowfang has been gutted in a single breath.A shape stirs through the haze to







