Se connecterHis hands were on my face.
My hands were on his chest.
His lips were inches from mine—so close I could feel his breath, warm and uneven, washing over my skin. So close that if I leaned forward just a fraction of an inch, if I closed my eyes just for a moment, if I let myself fall—
"Make me yours."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and electric, charged with something I couldn't name. Something that made my blood hum and my skin tingle and my heart pound like a fist against my ribs.
Nikolai's eyes—those impossible ice-blue eyes—darkened.
His thumbs traced my cheekbones, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of my face. His breath came faster. His chest rose and fell against my hands, and I could feel his heartbeat—strong, steady, wild—echoing through his ribcage like a second drum.
"Ela," he whispered.
"Kiss me."
"If I do—"
"I know." I pressed my palms flat against his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his sweater. "You won't be able to stop. You told me."
"Yes."
"Then don't."
Something broke inside him.
I saw it happen—the crack in his control, the shatter of his restraint. His jaw unclenched. His eyes fluttered half-closed. And his hands, those large, scarred hands that had killed six wolves just hours ago, slid from my face into my hair.
He pulled me closer.
I let him.
Our foreheads touched. Our noses brushed. Our lips—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound shattered the moment like a stone through glass.
Nikolai froze.
I froze.
Someone was at the door. Someone was knocking, sharp and insistent, three quick raps that echoed through the small room like gunfire.
"Ela?" A voice called. "Are you in there?"
Kai.
Nikolai's hands tightened in my hair. His jaw clenched. His whole body went rigid, vibrating with barely contained fury.
"Don't answer," he growled.
"I have to—"
"Don't."
"Ela?" Kai knocked again. "I know you're in there. I can smell you."
I pulled away from Nikolai. His hands fell from my hair, his arms dropped to his sides, and he stepped back—one step, two steps—putting distance between us like he was afraid of what he might do if he stayed close.
My heart was pounding.
My lips were tingling.
We hadn't even kissed.
We hadn't even kissed, and I already felt like I was falling apart.
I opened the door.
Kai stood in the hallway, his hand raised to knock again. His brown eyes—warm, gold-flecked, usually so kind—were sharp and searching.
"Hey," I said. "What's—"
He looked past me.
Into the room.
At Nikolai.
The change was immediate.
Kai's whole body went still. His eyes widened. His jaw dropped slightly, then clenched shut. His hands, which had been relaxed at his sides, curled into fists.
"Nikolai," he said.
His voice was flat. Empty. The voice of someone who had just been punched in the gut and was trying not to show it.
"Kai." Nikolai's voice was equally flat. Equally empty.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them looked away from each other.
I stood between them, feeling like a rope in a tug-of-war, like a bone between two wolves.
"It's not what it looks like," I said.
Kai's eyes flicked to me. "What does it look like?"
"I was just—we were just—"
"Talking," Nikolai finished. His voice was hard. "We were just talking."
"With your hands in her hair?" Kai stepped into the room. "With her hands on your chest? With your faces inches apart?"
Neither of us answered.
Kai laughed. It was a hollow sound, bitter and broken, nothing like the warm, easy laugh I'd heard from him before.
"Unbelievable," he said. "Absolutely unbelievable."
"Kai—"
"Don't." He held up his hand, cutting me off. His eyes were fixed on Nikolai. "I want to hear it from him."
Nikolai's jaw tightened. "There's nothing to tell."
"Nothing?" Kai's voice cracked. "You've been avoiding me for days. You've been disappearing at night. You've been acting like—like this—and there's nothing to tell?"
"I said—"
"I know what you said." Kai stepped closer to Nikolai. They were the same height, but Kai seemed smaller somehow, diminished by whatever was happening inside him. "You're my best friend, Nikolai. My brother. And you've been lying to me."
"I haven't lied."
"You've lied by omission." Kai's voice dropped. "You've been seeing her. Behind my back. Behind everyone's back."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
I wanted to say something. Wanted to explain. Wanted to make this right.
But I didn't know how.
Because Kai wasn't wrong.
Nikolai had been seeing me. Behind everyone's back. In secret. In shadows.
And I had let him.
Kai turned to me.
His eyes—those warm brown eyes that had looked at me with such kindness, such patience—were filled with something I'd never seen before.
Betrayal.
"You knew," he said. "You knew he was my best friend. You knew how much I trusted him. And you still—"
"I didn't plan this."
"No one ever does." He laughed again, that same hollow sound. "It just happens. Like gravity. Like fate. Like—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Like the bond."
My heart stopped.
"What did you say?"
Kai looked at Nikolai. "You haven't told her?"
"It's none of your business."
"It's my business when my best friend starts sneaking around with the girl I—" He cut himself off.
The room went cold.
"The girl you what, Kai?" Nikolai's voice was dangerously quiet.
Kai didn't answer.
He just stood there, his fists clenched, his jaw tight, his eyes glistening with something that looked like tears.
"Kai," I said softly. "Please. Talk to me."
He looked at me.
For a moment—just a moment—the walls came down. I saw him. The real him. The boy behind the kind smiles and the easy laughter.
He was hurting.
And I had hurt him.
"I came to check on you," he said. "After what happened in the forest. I heard you tried to run. I heard Nikolai saved you." He shook his head. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Kai—"
"But you're more than okay, aren't you?" His voice cracked again. "You're his."
"I'm not anyone's."
"You are." He looked at Nikolai. "You're his. You've been his since the moment you arrived. I just didn't want to see it."
He turned toward the door.
"Kai, wait—"
He stopped. Didn't turn around.
"You were my friend," he said quietly. "I thought maybe—" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I thought."
"Kai, please—"
"Sen benim kankamdın, Nikolai."
The Turkish words hit me like a slap.
You were my best friend, Nikolai.
Kai had learned Turkish. For me. To make me feel welcome. To show me that someone cared.
And I had repaid him with this.
"You were," Nikolai said. "You still are."
"No." Kai finally turned. His eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice was steady. "I'm not. Not anymore."
He walked out.
The door closed behind him.
And I was left standing in the middle of the room, my heart in pieces, my hands shaking, my lips still tingling from a kiss that hadn't happened.
Nikolai didn't move.
He stood by the window, his back to me, his hands braced against the frame. His shoulders were tense. His head was bowed.
"He'll come around," I said.
"No. He won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know Kai." Nikolai's voice was barely a whisper. "I've known him since we were children. He doesn't forgive. He doesn't forget. And he doesn't share."
"Share what?"
Nikolai turned.
His face was pale. His eyes were dark. And something in his expression—something raw and vulnerable and terrified—made my breath catch.
"He was falling in love with you, Ela."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"What?"
"I saw it. The way he looked at you. The way he talked about you. The way he learned your language for you." Nikolai's jaw tightened. "He was falling in love with you. And I knew. I knew, and I didn't stop. I didn't warn you. I didn't warn him."
"You can't blame yourself for—"
"I can blame myself for everything." He pushed off from the window and walked toward me. "I'm the one who should have stayed away. I'm the one who should have let him have you."
"Have me?" I stepped back. "I'm not a thing to be had, Nikolai."
"I know." He stopped in front of me. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He reached out. Touched my face. His fingers were cold—colder than before—and they trembled against my skin.
"I meant," he said slowly, "that Kai is a better man than me. Kinder. Gentler. Safer. He would have treated you the way you deserve to be treated."
"And you wouldn't?"
"I would have claimed you." His voice dropped. "There's a difference."
We stood there, inches apart, the ghost of a kiss still hanging between us.
Outside, the sun was fully risen. Students were waking up. The academy was coming to life.
But in this room, time had stopped.
"Kai will forgive you," I said.
"No."
"Then I'll talk to him. I'll explain—"
"There's nothing to explain." Nikolai's thumb traced my cheek. "He saw what he saw. He knows what he knows. And now he has to live with it."
"Just like us?"
"Just like us."
I wanted to kiss him.
I wanted to close the distance between us and press my lips to his and feel the bond explode between us like fireworks.
But I couldn't.
Not now. Not with Kai's face still burned into my memory. Not with his words still echoing in my ears.
Sen benim kankamdın, Nikolai.
You were my best friend.
I stepped back.
Nikolai's hand fell from my face.
"I need to be alone," I said.
"Ela—"
"Please."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded. Walked to the door. Paused with his hand on the knob.
"I'll find you later," he said.
"I know."
He left.
And I was alone.
But I wasn't really alone.
Someone was watching.
I felt it before I saw it—a prickle on the back of my neck, a coldness in the air, a presence that didn't belong.
I turned to the window.
The glass was dark. Reflective. I could see my own face staring back at me—pale, scared, lost.
But behind my reflection, in the darkness outside, something moved.
A shape.
A shadow.
Someone.
I stepped closer to the window. Pressed my palm against the cold glass. Squinted into the darkness.
And saw him.
Lukas.
Standing in the shadow of the tree outside my window. His green eyes gleamed in the dim light. His lips were curved in that familiar, empty smile.
And in his hand—
A phone.
He raised it.
And mouthed two words:
Got you.
The knife gleamed in Nikolai's hand, curved and sharp, the blade catching the moonlight that streamed through the window. Ela looked at it, then at his face, at his gold eyes burning with desperation and grief and a love so fierce it had curdled into something almost unrecognizable. She wanted to feel something. Fear, maybe. Or pity. Or the echo of the bond that had once tied them together. But there was nothing. Just the hollow. Just the emptiness. Just the cold, quiet peace that had become her entire existence.Nikolai stepped toward the bed. Sasha was still on the floor, gasping for breath, his hands clutching his throat. He tried to stand, to intervene, to stop whatever madness was about to unfold, but his legs would not hold him. The silver burns on Nikolai's wrists had healed, but the scars were still there, pale and rais
The days that followed were strange and uncomfortable for Ela. She remained in Lukas's private quarters, not because she wanted to be there but because she did not have the energy to leave. The hollow inside her was still there, vast and cold, and every movement required a effort that she could barely summon. Lukas was attentive in his own way, bringing her food and water, sitting with her in the evenings, reading aloud from books she did not listen to. But she could feel his impatience growing beneath the gentle surface. He wanted more from her. He wanted her to feel something for him, to choose him, to bond with him. And she could not give him what he did not have.Sasha visited her every day. He did not ask permission. He did not knock. He just walked into her room as if he belonged there, as if the walls had been built arou
Ela could not process what was happening. One moment she had been sitting on the stone bench, staring at the fountain, lost in the hollow emptiness that had become her entire existence. The next moment, a stranger was holding her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles, telling her that she belonged to him. She looked at Sasha's face. At his ice-blue eyes, so similar to Nikolai's but somehow different. Colder. Wilder. More dangerous. His hair was not white-blonde like Nikolai's. It was black, dark as ink, falling past his shoulders in tangled waves. His skin was pale, almost luminescent, and it was covered in tattoos. Intricate patterns, ancient symbols, images of wolves and moons and things she did not recognize. He was beautiful, in a way that made her uncomfortable. Not soft like Kai. Not polished like Lukas. Not broken like Nikolai. He was something else entirely. Something primal. Something that had been forged in fire and ice and ha
The days blurred together for Ela. She stayed in Lukas's private quarters, in the room he had given her on the first night, and she did not leave. She did not want to leave. The world outside was full of pain and betrayal and memories she could not escape. But inside these walls, there was only silence. Only emptiness. Only the hollow place where her heart used to be. Lukas brought her food and water, and she ate and drank because her body needed fuel, not because she wanted to. He sat with her in the evenings, reading aloud from books she did not listen to, telling stories she did not hear. He was gentle and patient and kind, everything she should have wanted, everything she should have been grateful for. But she felt nothing. Not gratitude. Not affection. Not even resentment. Just the hollow. Just the endless, silent void that had consumed everything she used to be.
The silence in the ritual chamber was suffocating. Ela stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the ashes of the burning photograph and the fading glow of the symbols on the walls. The red candles had gone out, and the only light came from the narrow shaft above, where the moon had already begun to move past its alignment. She felt hollow. Not empty, not exactly, but hollow. Like someone had reached inside her chest and scooped out everything that mattered, leaving behind only the shell of who she used to be. She pressed her hand to her sternum, where Nikolai had lived inside her for so long, and she felt nothing. No warmth. No pull. No tether connecting her heart to his. He was gone. The bond was gone. And she did not know who she was without it.Nikolai was on his knees on the cold stone floor. He had fallen when the ri
The hidden ritual chamber was beneath the oldest part of the academy, deeper than the cage where Nikolai had been chained, deeper than the archives where Ela had found the truth about her mother. It had been sealed for centuries, locked away by the Council after the last Blood War, when the old magic was declared too dangerous to be used. But Lukas Brandt had found it. He had been preparing for this moment his entire life, and he knew every secret passage, every hidden door, every forgotten room. He had mapped the darkness beneath Silvermoon Academy like a second home.The chamber was circular, carved from black stone that seemed to absorb the light. The walls were covered in symbols, ancient and twisted, written in a language that predated human civilization. In the center of the room stood an altar, also black, stained with d







