Chapter 64

Elouera

The iron gate crashed down behind us, leaving us trapped in complete darkness inside the underground archive.

Outside the doors, I could still hear the distant sounds of crossbow bolts hitting stone and Callan’s guards shouting in panic. But their voices soon faded until everything became frighteningly quiet.

The emergency lockdown had been activated. Thick iron bars had dropped from the central control tower, sealing us forty feet beneath the High Council chamber.

We were trapped in a small, windowless stone room, barely twelve feet long and twelve feet wide. Rotting books, cedar shelves, and ancient papers filled the space.

The only light came from a single candle burning weakly on a dusty reading desk in the corner.

And there was barely any air to breathe.

I stumbled backward until my back hit the cold, damp iron door. My chest rose and fell as I struggled to catch my breath. Every breath tasted of dust, metal, and cold sweat.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I grabbed the high lace collar of my velvet tunic and tore open the brass buttons, desperately trying to get more air into my lungs.

This small, sealed room was a death trap.

With no open windows or fresh air to carry my scent away, my uncontrollable Omega scent spread through the room. The smell of wild honey, rain-soaked lilies, and electric ozone filled the tiny space.

It spread so quickly that it seemed to hit the stone walls and come straight back at me. The air became so heavy with my scent that every breath felt thick and difficult to take.

And I wasn’t trapped in this suffocating room alone.

Two powerful Alphas were trapped in here with me.

Jace stood a few steps to my left, his back against the heavy cedar shelves. His short sword was still drawn, and dark blood dripped from its blade onto the wooden floor.

His large hands, covered in black gloves, gripped the leather handle so tightly that his knuckles strained beneath the material.

But despite how firmly he held his sword, his shoulders were shaking violently.

Stirling leaned against the opposite stone wall. His thick wool mantle lay discarded on the floor, and he was breathing heavily. He pressed one hand against the bandage wrapped around his bleeding ribs, trying to control the pain.

Neither of them looked at me.

Neither man dared to.

The tension in the room was so intense that it felt as if the slightest movement could set everything on fire. My powerful Omega scent filled the small space, mixing with the strong scents coming from Jace and Stirling. The smell of crushed cedar, wet earth, freezing winter air, and lightning made the room feel like a furnace.

Jace’s hazel eyes had turned completely black. There was nothing human in the way he stared ahead. A deep, continuous growl rumbled in his chest, so powerful that I could almost feel it beneath my feet.

Every muscle in his large body was tense. He was fighting against his Alpha instincts, which were urging him to turn around, pin me to the floor, and sink his fangs into my neck to complete our mate bond.

Stirling was struggling too. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his cheek kept twitching. His amber eyes burned with a frightening intensity, and his nostrils flared with every breath as he fought to control his own instincts.

“Don’t move, Elouera,” Jace rasped.

His voice sounded rough and broken, almost like he was struggling to speak. He kept his eyes fixed on the iron gate and refused to turn toward me. His hands gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Stay… stay back against the door.”

“Jace…” I whispered, but my voice broke in the heavy silence.

“Don’t,” he growled.

There was desperation in his voice, as if he was begging me to listen.

“If you come any closer… if you touch me right now… I won’t be able to control myself.”

My heart pounded wildly against my chest like a trapped bird.

The golden mark on my neck suddenly glowed a bright, burning amber. It reacted to Jace’s distress, growing so hot that I could feel the heat through my shirt.

Our mate bond felt like a strong rope pulling me toward him. Every part of me wanted to go to him, bury my face against his neck, and let his familiar scent calm the fever raging inside my body.

But I stayed where I was.

Instead, I turned my eyes toward Stirling across the narrow room.

Stirling let out a bitter laugh. He sounded like dry leaves being crushed underfoot. Then he slowly slid down the cold stone wall until he was sitting on the dusty floor. His large hands gripped his knees so tightly that his leather gloves creaked.

“Look at us,” Stirling whispered, his voice rough and tired. There was a bitter sense of humor in his words. “The Vanguard’s most powerful commander and the heir to the Northern House, trapped in a tiny room, struggling to control ourselves because a girl smells like rain.”

“Shut up, Vance!” Jace snapped.

His chest was rising and falling heavily. He pressed his forehead against the cold cedar shelf, trying to cool himself down.

“Why should I?” Stirling replied in a rough voice.

He lifted his amber eyes and looked straight at me through the weak candlelight. The usual confidence and arrogance on his face were gone. In their place was a painful honesty that left me struggling to breathe.

“She deserves to hear the truth. She deserves to know what she’s done to us.”

Stirling leaned his head back against the stone wall and let out a tired sigh.

“Callan wants to lock you inside a golden tower because he believes being royal gives him the right to own you,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. His gaze was so intense that it seemed even hotter than the fever burning inside me.

“Jace gave up his command, his reputation, and almost his entire life just to stand outside your door, only eight feet away from you.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“And me? I brought my entire army to your feet just because I wanted to watch you smile as you burned this palace to the ground.”

I stopped breathing for a moment.

His words hung heavily in the air. They were honest, painful, and impossible to misunderstand.

Jace didn’t deny a single word.

He didn’t threaten Stirling or tell him to be quiet again. He simply stood frozen against the shelf with his eyes closed, breathing heavily as his body shook.

Stirling had spoken aloud the truth that had been growing between the three of us for days, a truth none of us had been brave enough to say.

“You’re both fools,” I said weakly, gripping the torn collar of my shirt. My chest hurt, and I felt so many emotions at once that it was almost unbearable.

“I’m the daughter of a dead Queen. I’m also a weapon Holden created to destroy this kingdom. If you stay with me—if you stand beside me when those doors open—you’ll both die.”

Jace slowly turned his head toward me.

The blackness in his eyes faded a little, revealing the fierce hazel eyes I knew so well. He took one slow step toward me, stopping just two feet away. His large body cast a shadow over mine.

He didn’t touch me or even try to reach for me. But his scent surrounded me, making me feel as though I were trapped behind an unbreakable wall.

“Then we die together, Elouera,” Jace whispered.

His voice was rough, but there was no hesitation in his words. He sounded as though he had made a promise he would never break.

“Whether it’s in this room or on the High Council’s platform, I’m not leaving your side again.”

Silence filled the dark room. The air felt heavy with tension as the three of us stood there, listening to our hearts beating.

Then a strange, wet choking sound broke the silence.

It didn’t come from Jace or Stirling.

It came from the dark space behind the last cedar shelf.

Both men reacted immediately. Their Alpha instincts were still fighting against them, but their training took over. They drew their swords at the same time, the loud sound of metal cutting through the silence.

Jace stepped in front of me to protect me, while Stirling kicked a pile of old books out of the way and pointed his sword into the darkness.

Someone was lying on the dusty floor behind the shelf.

It was the young Vanguard messenger who had brought us the warning hours earlier.

He was clutching a broken glass vial filled with dark red liquid. His eyes had rolled back, and black veins were spreading quickly across his face. His mouth hung open as thick, foamy blood poured from his lips onto the floor.

With great difficulty, he raised one shaking hand and pointed toward the narrow air vent above my head.

“It’s… it’s not a lockdown,” he struggled to say. His throat rattled as he fought for breath. “Holden… he didn’t seal the doors to keep you inside…”

Before he could finish, his hand fell lifelessly to the floor.

He was dead.

For one terrible second, nobody moved.

Then I looked up at the small iron vent above us.

A thick, sweet smelling gas began pouring through it, slowly filling the sealed room.

Night bloom.

Holden hadn’t locked us in to keep us from escaping.

He had locked us in so we couldn’t escape the poison.