56

EZRA

She’s weightless in my arms, like a flame gone out too soon.

Still warm. Still breathing. But too still.

Too quiet.

Thea’s lashes fan her cheeks, her lips parted slightly—just enough to wreck me. Her coffee table was broken. The stench of the Nytherin lingers like rot in my lungs. I want to burn the whole house just to chase the memory out of these walls.

I carry her to the sofa, gentle like she’s made of ash, like one wrong move and she’ll blow away.

She doesn’t stir when I brush a curl from her cheek.

She doesn’t wake when I whisper her name.

My chest aches in ways it shouldn’t. Not for someone like me. But I can still hear the echo of her scream, that breaking-point sound a soul makes when it sees something it shouldn’t.

Me.

I ruined everything.

I should leave when I noticed it at first.

But I don’t.

I brought this upon her.

I kneel beside her, elbows on my knees, hands shaking as they hover over hers. A tremor worms through me, something sharp lodged beneath my ribs. It’s not guilt. I don’t do guilt. This… this is dread.

Because something shifted tonight.

Not just with the Nytherin.

With her.

With me.

And there’s only one person on this planet who might know what the fuck I’ve done without reporting to the council or without flying over just to claim her.

I dig into my pocket for the old coin. The one I swore never to use again. A rusted piece of silver, etched with a sigil only one creature on this earth still answers to since he absolutely refused to give us his mobile phone number.

Lucien.

Fucker hasn’t spoken to me in over a decade. Not since the Dresden Rupture. Not since I walked away from the last war we both nearly bled out in.

I flick the coin.

Once.

Twice.

Third time. It vanishes mid-air and dissolves into smoke.

The line opens almost instantly. And the familiar stillness embraces me.

Then his voice:

“Ezra?”

Cool. Measured. Mildly annoyed. Like I’ve interrupted something important. Probably have, considering the fact that he's always busy.

“You’re not dead,” I mutter, leaning back on my heels.

“You sound disappointed.” He says with a chuckle. “Is this a courtesy call, or are you bleeding?”

“Neither.”

“Huh,” he hums, face shrouded in darkness. “Then it must be worse.”

Silence stretches between us.

I glance at Thea again. Still motionless. Her heartbeat is steady, but too slow for comfort. My throat tightens.

“There was a Nytherin,” I say eventually.

A pause.

“How so? Don't tell me Malik mated with another Aureate.”

I inhale a shuddering breath and shake my head. “Not Malik.”

“Cassien?”

I sigh.

“You then?”

I say nothing.

Lucien exhales. “And you called me?”

“I remembered you were the only one who didn’t piss yourself when the council barked,” I mutter. “Besides, Malik hates them, and Cassien worships them. You’re the only one who plays both sides.”

Another silence. Then:

“I’m flattered. But you didn’t call to tell war stories, did you?”

I hesitate. The words taste like rust.

“I… She’s not like us,” I say, voice lower now. “She’s… more. I didn’t know it until tonight. But I think…”

I drag a hand down my face.

“I think I triggered something. The bond. Or the beginning of it.”

“You should have asked Malik what he did the last time he found an Aureate.”

But I didn't.

A mistake.

He sighs. “What else did you do?”

“I listen to her heartbeat,” I whisper, barely breathing. “Every night. Without her knowing. I thought it was just... me being weak. But tonight, when she screamed—when I felt her fear—something snapped. And I moved without thought. No barrier. No control. My claws broke through skin just by thinking of what touched her.”

Lucien exhales again. “You idiot.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I hiss, nose flaring. “I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“You formed the first tether,” he says flatly. “That instinct—listening to her heart, syncing with it, claiming it in your head without her knowledge? That’s how it starts with an Aureate. That's the first symptom Malik reported.”

I go still.

“She’s—”

“Of course she is,” he cuts in. “Didn’t you wonder why your hunger never peaks when she’s near? Why your instincts—your rage, your shadows—still fall to silence when she breathes? Ezra, the mate bond with an Aureate doesn’t just happen. It chooses. And once chosen, it only deepens with proximity, with emotion, with... intention.”

“But I didn’t intend anything!”

“You listened to her heart like it was your religion. That’s all it takes.”

A beat.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

“No.”

“Good job, brother. Congratulations on adding a problem to your menu.”

Fuck Lucien.

I rake my fingers through my hair, eyes burning.

“She saw me tonight. Not the polished version. The real one. The claws. The fangs. The monster. I think I lost her.”

“Or you finally gave her a reason to believe in the truth,” he says quietly. “Monsters don’t get happy endings, Ezra. But sometimes, they get something better.”

I scoff. “What? Closure?”

“No. Redemption.”

I glance back at Thea.

She shifts slightly, a faint sound escaping her lips. My breath catches again.

“I didn’t call you for wisdom,” I mutter with a sneer.

“Then you shouldn’t have called me at all.”

Click.

The line dies.

I stare at the coin which falls into my palm from the air for a second before tossing it aside. I pull my hair in frustration, eyes raking the whole place for something to punch just to release my anger. But I found none.

I stagger to my feet. My hands find her again, brushing over her cheek, her wrist. Her pulse flutters gently beneath my fingers.

I want to lie beside her and forget the world exists.

But I can’t. Not now.

Because I’ve already begun to claim her.

And she's already seen the monster lurking behind this façade.

I don’t even know which is worse.

A few minutes that feels like hours later, she stirs against the cushions, her brow furrowing before her eyes slowly blink open.

Relief punches me in the chest.

She’s awake.

Her gaze finds mine, and for one second—just one—there’s softness. That flicker of recognition. Of safety.

Then it’s gone.

Her expression hardens as she sits up slowly, like her limbs ache, like her soul does. She doesn't scream. Doesn’t flinch. She just watches me, guarded and composed.

“…You saved me,” she says, voice raw.

“I did.”

A beat.

“…Thank you.” She whispers, warm watery eyes searching mine before her eyes roam the wreckage. The broken glass and table, the blood staining my shirt, the claw marks in the walls. Then her gaze falls on it. What’s left of the creature. A pile of ash.

“What was that?”

I swallow.

“A Nytherin,” I say.

Her brow furrows. “Ny– what? What does it mean?”

I inhale a shuddering breath and still on the rug near the couch, pulling her palm in mine. She doesn't pull back.

“Nytherins are underworld creatures. They feed on soulbounds.”

“Soulbounds? Why was it here?”

I meet her gaze. “It was here for you.”

She doesn't react at first. Just blinks. Slow. Processing.

“Why me?”

I don’t answer right away. I can’t.

Because this is the part that will ruin everything.

She notices. Her jaw tenses.

“Ezra.”

Her voice isn’t a request. It’s a demand.

I close my eyes for a second before slowly whispering, “Because I marked you.”