LOGINWren woke to sunlight.It streamed through the curtains—thin, golden, warm. The fire had burned down to embers. The room was quiet. Peaceful.He was lying in Kirill's arms.The Alpha was still asleep, his breath slow and even, his face relaxed in a way Wren had never seen before. The mask was gone. The control was gone. There was only Kirill—the real Kirill—his dark hair tousled, his jaw soft, his arms wrapped around Wren like he was something precious.Wren didn't move. He didn't want to.He lay there, listening to Kirill's heartbeat, feeling the bond hum between them. It was different now. Not a warning. Not a promise. Something else. Something that felt almost like peace.Wren thought about the night before. The way Kirill had touched him. The way he'd kissed him. The way he'd whispered his name like it was a prayer.I love you.He'd said it. Meant it. And Kirill had said it back.Wren's heart pounded. He still couldn't believe it. After everything—the conspiracy, the lies, the bet
The figure turned. Wren's blood went cold. It was his mother. The same dark hair. The same sharp eyes. The same smile that had haunted his dreams for sixteen years. She sat on the dais, her hands folded in her lap, her posture regal and unyielding. She looked exactly as he remembered—young, beautiful, alive. But she was dead. She was dead. Wren couldn't move. His heart was pounding. The bond screamed between them, a violent, electric jolt that sent Kirill reaching for him. "Wren," Kirill said. "That's not her." Wren didn't answer. He couldn't. He was staring at his mother—his dead mother—sitting in front of him like a ghost. "Wren," Elena said. Her voice was soft, familiar. "I've been waiting for you." Wren's throat tightened. "You're not real." "I'm as real as you need me to be." "You're dead. You died in the fire. You—" "I survived." Elena's smile was gentle. "Just like you." Wren's heart pounded. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that his mother was alive
The figure turned.Wren's blood went cold.It was his mother.The same dark hair. The same sharp eyes. The same smile that had haunted his dreams for sixteen years. She sat on the dais, her hands folded in her lap, her posture regal and unyielding. She looked exactly as he remembered—young, beautiful, alive.But she was dead.She was dead.Wren couldn't move. His heart was pounding. The bond screamed between them, a violent, electric jolt that sent Kirill reaching for him."Wren," Kirill said. "That's not her."Wren didn't answer. He couldn't. He was staring at his mother—his dead mother—sitting in front of him like a ghost."Wren," Elena said. Her voice was soft, familiar. "I've been waiting for you."Wren's throat tightened. "You're not real.""I'm as real as you need me to be.""You're dead. You died in the fire. You—""I survived." Elena's smile was gentle. "Just like you."Wren's heart pounded. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that his mother was alive, that she had
The Voronov estate was quiet.Wren stood in the study, staring at the wall where the photographs of his mother had once hung. They were gone now—burned in the attack, lost forever. But he could still see them in his mind. His mother's face. Her smile. The way she'd looked at Dmitri Voronov like he was the only person in the world.The bond remained between them, a constant presence. But for the first time, Wren didn't know if it was a promise or a warning.Kirill entered the room, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor."You're up early," Kirill said."I couldn't sleep.""Neither could I."Wren turned to face him. The Alpha's grey eyes were sharp, assessing, but there was something softer underneath. Something that hadn't been there before."The trial is over," Wren said. "The Inner Circle is destroyed. Theron is dead. We won.""Did we?"Wren's throat tightened. "What do you mean?"Kirill crossed to the window, staring out at the gardens. "Theron was the architect, but he wasn't th
The estate was silent.Wren stood at the edge of the ritual chamber, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The altar was broken. The symbols were dark. The air still hummed with the residue of whatever he had unleashed.Theron was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, his face pale with shock. Vera stood over him, her knife pressed to his throat."Don't move," she said.Theron didn't move.Wren turned away, his heart pounding. The bond remained between them, a constant presence. But for the first time, Wren didn't know if it was a promise or a warning.Kirill was beside him in an instant, his hands finding Wren's shoulders, his grey eyes searching his face."Are you hurt?""No." Wren's voice was hoarse. "I'm not hurt.""You're shaking.""I know."Kirill's hands tightened. "What you did—""I know.""You destroyed the ritual. You destroyed everything he built.""I know." Wren looked up at him. "And I'd do it again."The words hung in the air between them. Kirill's grey eyes
The Ilvaren estate was silent.Wren stood at the gate, his hand resting on the iron bars. The mansion loomed before him, rebuilt on the ashes of his childhood. The same footprint. The same silhouette. But wrong. All wrong.The bond remained between them, a constant presence. But for the first time, Wren didn't know if it was a promise or a warning.Kirill was beside him, his grey eyes scanning the shadows."You don't have to do this," Kirill said quietly."I know.""He'll try to kill you.""I know.""You could die.""I know." Wren turned to face him. "But if I don't go in there, he'll complete the ritual. He'll sever the bond. He'll kill everyone I love."Kirill was silent for a long moment. Then he reached out, his hand finding Wren's, his fingers warm and steady."Then we go together."Wren's heart pounded. The bond remained between them, a constant presence."You could die," Wren said."I know what it means." Kirill stepped closer. "I'm still coming."The words hung in the air betw







