Hope's POV.All my senses are heightened now. Partly because of the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Partly because of the wolf inside me. I can feel her pacing, pushing. Eager to be let out.I feel torn. A part of me wants justice - to make him pay for all the unspeakable things he's done. But a part of me also mourns for the man that Malachai could have been. If only he had chosen a different path. The fact that I could have just as easily turned into Malachai isn't lost on me either. If I had allowed my grief to turn ugly, allowed it to consume me and turn me into something other than who I am today.Perhaps my life would have gone down the same road as his, had it not been for the people who love and accept me - who make me feel like I belong. Had I not allowed them to love me and be there for me.Malachai and I are part of the same prophecy - meant to follow the same path. The path that led us here, to this very place in this very moment. Maybe we had no say in it. May
Malachai's POV.Thunder echoes through the trees, distant like the drums of war. The sky is a mixture of gray clouds and black smoke. The wind, biting at my exposed skin, is cold. The stench of blood hangs heavy in the air, clinging desperately to everything it touches. Almost suffocating.My legs scream as I push them further on. My ribs are cracked, maybe even broken. And the gash on my side spills hot blood with every agonizing step I take.And still, I don't stop. I can't. Not when the forest still vibrates with howls. Not while the faces of those dead boys still haunt me.My boots slip in the mud, catch on roots. The forest around me fades into a blur. But still I keep going. I don't look back. I don't have to. I know exactly what I left behind.Failure.And her... Hope.She was right there - within my grasp. She was mine for the taking.Stupid - that's what I was. Stupid and desperate. Desperate to believe that Hope had finally seen the light - that she finally knew where she be
Lucian's POV.Well, this is awkward.Nothing like a dramatic stand-off to get the blood pumping again. All we need now is tumbleweed blowing past and a theme song - or some idiot to start a fire and light up the entire forest.Why is it that when we come face to face with Malachai, the forest is always burning?I take a quick look around, making a mental quip of everyone in our little circle of warriors.Of course, Malakar looks extra dramatic - his claws dig deep into the soft soil beneath them. His ears are perked up. Breathing slow and steady, allowing a pulsing cloud of breath to form from his nostrils in the cold morning air. His eyes bright, burning almost. A low growl resonates from somewhere deep inside. He stands perfectly still, and his gaze never once wavers from Malachai.Hope seems to be calm, except for the slight tremor in her hands. There's a certain air of defiance around her.Malachai has that smug 'I'm the smartest boy in the room' look on his face. Almost like he's
Malakar's POV.My blood boils as I watch Malachai interacting with Hope. The smug self-satisfaction etched into every hard and unforgiving line of his face. The way he watches her with that disturbing hunger in his eyes - like he's been thirsty for a hundred years, and she's the only thing that can quench him. That absolute possessiveness when he reaches for her hand.He's standing too close to her...Every instinct inside me is urging me forward. Pushing me to attack. Telling me to rip his throat out for all the unthinkable evil he's done to me and my people so far - for simply daring to breath the same air as my mate. But I can't. Not yet. Even though it's tearing me up from the inside, I have to wait. Give Hope a chance to do what we brought her here to do.She has to get Malachai to show his cards - play his hand.None of us believed for a second that he would show up here without a plan. Of course, he wouldn't just believe that Hope had changed her mind all of a sudden and that s
Hope's POV.The clearing is empty.I step into it slowly, my boots brushing through the long, dew-wet grass. The air is still, but it feels wrong—like the quiet before a storm, the kind that doesn’t just bring rain but tears apart everything in its path.Malachai isn’t here.Of course he isn’t. He’s making me wait. It’s a power play. A message.You came to me.I don’t sit. I don’t pace. I just stand there in the middle of the clearing, breathing like it might steady the war inside me.But it doesn’t.A million thoughts tear through my mind.What if he sees right through me?What if I can’t lie well enough? What if I slip? What if he doesn’t believe that I’ve turned my back on the wolves?What if he does?Because that might be worse.I clench my fists to stop them from shaking. I think of Morgana. Of the pup. Of Talon’s quiet thanks. Of Lucian’s voice telling me I still belong. Of Malakar’s arms holding me together when I was ready to fall apart.I remind myself why I’m doing this.But
Hope's POV.They’re all talking at once.Malakar’s voice is low and steady, like he’s trying to calm a storm that hasn’t started yet. Lucian paces, running through the timing again like it’ll somehow make this safer. Aarden’s asking questions no one is answering. Emory keeps watching me out of the corner of her eye, like she’s waiting for me to crack. Talon’s arms are crossed, brows drawn, the word “reckless” hanging unsaid between every breath. And Dorian—quiet, focused—just watches us all like he’s already thinking ten steps ahead.I sit in the middle of it, nodding like I’m listening.But I’m not.I’ve heard the plan a hundred times.Get close. Tell him what he wants to hear. Make him believe I’ve turned. Make him believe I want to be with him.It won’t be hard. Not really.I know what he wants. I know how to say the words, how to look at him like I believe them. I’ve lived a lie before—this won’t be the first time I’ve hidden my truth under someone else’s expectations.But still.