The Le Torneau compound had always felt like an unbreachable fortress of stone and will. But as the veil crept over it, that illusion shattered. There was an annoying humming sound as its march clawed at everything. A thick, red shadow covered the sky. Twilight stretched into an unbearable eternity, so suffocating, and cold in a way that seeped into your bones, and not the kind you shake off with fire.

I stood in the main hall with Devon beside me. His hand brushed mine and I drew some comfort from his presence, relieved beyond words that he was on his feet again. But that comfort didn’t last long. I thought about my family, and the staff. All vulnerable and exposed to this curse.

I kept my face in a perfect mask, refusing to let the worry slip past my lips. If it came to it—and it would—I’d heal them. Mouriana stirred in my mind, whispering against the rising dread.

“If?” she scoffed. “With the veil spreading, infection is inevitable.”

Mouriana, where have you been? The thought was infused with the anger I couldn’t give voice to. I could have used you earlier.

“Doing my job,” she answered, all indifference and insufferable calm.

And Mythica? I asked, since it didn’t appear she was going to share anything about that witch on her own.

Mouriana simply said, “Soon.”

“Who’s Mythica?” Devon asked, interrupting before I could question Mouriana’s decision. Soon what? It was either that she’d beat Mythica soon or that she’d be here soon.

The moment I met his gaze, I regretted it. Those eyes were a trap, pulling me into depths I didn’t want to enter. Was it because I’d been in his subconscious that his gaze felt harrowing?

“She’s the blood-wielding witch who attacked us,” I said, stepping away from the forcefulness of his gaze. My voice was too sharp, and I knew it, but the prickle where our hands had brushed made me too restless to care.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” I lied. “I just” worry about the curse.”

He wasn’t fooled. His jaw tightened as he studied me, his fingers curling into a fist as if restraining the urge to reach for me again. “That’s not what I meant.”

My silence was answer enough.

Devon sighed, the sound was soft but heavy. His hand found mine again, this time not brushing but gripping. It was a steadying force I didn’t know I needed. He turned me to face him fully, and I noticed his eyes were a little worn out. I looked at him, taking in the simple, fitted, clean tunic he was wearing. Where had he gotten that? I’d left him bare chested in the guest bedroom.

“You’ve been in my mind. So what? You saw my fears, hopes, saw me. Why does that unsettle you? Shouldn’t I be the one uncomfortable about it?” It wasn’t until he smirked that I realized how terrified I had been to think I’d never see that annoying smirk again. “And since you were wondering, I had Yeon find me something to wear. Didn’t think your family would appreciate me flashing my bare chest in their faces.”

Before I could reply, my mother’s voice interrupted me. “We wouldn’t,” she said, responding to a comment about Devon’s shirt I hadn’t even voiced aloud.

I blinked, disoriented. How did he know I was wondering? Now our link felt even more intimate and intrusive.

I heard Mouriana’s voice hiss into my thoughts. “You’re so dense sometimes.”

I resisted the urge to groan, no help from her cutting commentary. I felt Devon’s grip tighten, pulling me in closer.

“Talk to me,” he said.

I should have stepped back. There was something unbearable about his presence now. I looked up instead, and his eyes caught mine, their quiet intensity dragging me into a moment I wasn’t ready for. His brows furrowed slightly, his jaw tightening as those stubborn eyes dared me to look away.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Thankfully, my mother broke the spell when she spoke up. “It might be a wise idea to worry about the veil. It is gathering right now, preparing to unleash,” she suggested. Her gaze shifted to Camille, standing by the hearth. “Is there a way to undo this?”

Devon’s tone changed immediately. “Discuss as you wish.” He glanced briefly at my mother before his focus snapped back to me. “But my mate and I need to talk about this.”

He stepped back, still holding my hand, and led me to the far corner of the room before anyone could reply.

“What’s wrong?” he asked once we were out of earshot.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

His brow arched. “Nothing?”

I sighed, my free hand curling into a fist at my side. “I don’t know what this feeling is. I don’t’” I hesitated, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “I don’t like that my thoughts aren’t private any more.”

Of course, that wasn’t all. That wasn’t even close. How was I supposed to say it out loud? That I’d come so close to losing him, to watching him slip through my fingers forever, and it had gutted me in a way I didn’t think possible. That terror was still eating away at me. And now being in his consciousness had somehow amplified our bond. He could hear everything—every fractured thought, every unspoken fear.

Gracious Gaia. Did he hear that?

The indifference of his reply was very Devon. “Neither are mine,” he said flatly. He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if this was just a minor inconvenience. “But you’re so distracted, you haven’t even noticed the connection. Not the depth of it. Not even me.”

I couldn’t read his expression as he watched me closely. He was waiting for me to say something, but I had nothing to say to that.

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” he finally continued, just soft enough to feel intrusive. “But I am not going anywhere.”

I laughed, and it was completely lacklustre. “You gave up, Devon,” the words spilled out before I could stop them. Trying to keep my voice calm, I swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t been such a persistent flea, I’d have lost you. You were willing to let go and leave me.” When I said it, my chest ached, the truth burning like acid in my chest. “So forgive me for not believing you when you say you’re not going anywhere. Because you were.”

Something about his posture changed. I couldn’t tell what it was, and that only made it more frustrating. I swear I could feel his heart pulsing through his grip on my right hand.

Was he even capable of understanding what it had done to me?

He opened his mouth to respond, and for a second, I thought he might actually say something that would make it better.

But I wasn’t ready for that. “Please don’t try to reassure me. It won’t help.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking once, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, taking it. That Stoic, infuriating silence was worse than if he’d yelled back. It was maddening.

“Say something!” I demanded, but I had no idea what I wanted him to say. Just something. Anything. A fight, a rebuttal, even an apology I wouldn’t believe.

But he said nothing.

Like smoke through a crack, Mouriana’s voice slithered back in. “Say what? You just told him not to reassure you. What exactly do you want from him, little witch?”

I scowled, even though she couldn’t see. “Not now, Mouriana.”

But of course, she didn’t care.

“This is as difficult for him as it is for you, though I doubt you’ve given that a moment’s thought. The darkness nearly took him, and you obviously don’t understand how consuming it was. Do you know what it means for an Alpha to almost be claimed? He nearly failed his race as Alpha and Lord. As a general, he almost failed to fulfil his obligations to Wridel and Gaia. And’” her voice rasped, biting into me like frost, “it appears he failed you.”

I flinched. “Stop it.”

But she didn’t stop there. “Don’t be an arseling. Let his thoughts and feelings flow to you. Feel them. Hear them. Or are you too afraid to face what’s there?”

Afraid? No. That wasn’t it. Was it?

Staring at him, I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Devon’s silence was restraint, not stoicism, and now I could feel it bleeding into our bond. There was such raw pain that he couldn’t say anything. It pulsated like a wound he was too proud to show.

I should have said something. I should have reached into his mind and probed for whatever he was holding back. I turned away instead, Mouriana’s words bitter in my mind.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to feel his pain.

I couldn’t do that while I was drowning.

I didn’t need to stay there. Especially not in that suffocating space filled with his silence and my unresolved bitterness. So, I turned and headed toward the door. I’d almost made it out when my father cleared his throat, a subtle and deliberate sound meant to drag me back.

I turned, glaring just enough to make my annoyance clear. “What?”

“Your mother and I must leave for Capitol Hill,” Father said, and his tone was as gentle as ever. He looked Devon’s way then. “The High Council needs to meet and deliberate about how to prevent this curse’s affliction.”

There was a pause, as if he wasn’t sure whether to go on. “Your brothers will remain here with you to brainstorm’”

“She is the Supreme Successor,” Mother cut in sharply. “Which means both she and Lord Irving must accompany us. Let’s go.” She swept out of the hall without a backward glance.

I swallowed hard, turning to Devon. I watched my father and brothers move toward him, and so did the Lycan sentinels in the hall. Without warning, Marcus and Edward’s faces flashed in my mind. The memories clawed back, followed by a sharp pang of realization: Julian and Luciana were still on Irving Island.

I gasped, the sound tearing from my throat as panic gripped me. With no more words, I bolted out, my footsteps echoing in the corridor.

Mouriana. My thoughts reached for her. My attendees. Irving Island. What’s happening there?

As expected, her response was utter frustration. “Seriously? That’s your concern right now? Not the mate bond you just tried to incinerate?”

I need to know”

“No,” she said sharply. “What you need is to stop running from the one thing that matters. If things go sideways—if you die or, Gaia forbid, he does—are you really comfortable letting that be the last conversation you have? Think about that, little witch.”

She hit the mark hard, making me pause. Would I be comfortable with the way I’d left things?

Of course not. But admitting that—acknowledging that I’d handled it like a fumbling idiot with a martyr complex—felt like swallowing glass.

It was an unholy mess in my mind as I stormed toward the garage. I could feel the sting of Mouriana’s words. If things go sideways” she’d said.

As if I didn’t already know that.

The sound of my boots echoed down the corridor, just like the rattling in my brain. Each step screamed at me to stop, turn around, and go to him. But what would I even say? Sorry for calling you out on almost dying? Sorry for not understanding your pain when I’m drowning in my own?

Pathetic. I could already hear the insufferable sound of Mouriana’s laughter.

I reached the garage and yanked open the carriage doors, my pulse pounding like a war drum. I kept thinking about Julian and Luciana. Irving Island. That’s where I needed to be. That’s what mattered now.

“Running again, are we?” Mouriana’s voice coiled around my thoughts. “Is this what you do now? Bolt at the first sign of emotional discomfort? Very regal, Supreme Successor.”

“Not now, Mouriana,” I hissed aloud, the sound lost in the huge space.

“Oh, but it is now, little witch. Do you think rushing to Irving Island will make this easier? It won’t.”

I gritted my teeth, shoving my magic into the carriage’s core with more force than necessary. The hum of the engine filled the garage, but my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Julian and Luciana might be in danger. I need to check’”

“No,” Mouriana snapped. “You cannot save them. There are others here who need you. Inferno is slowly succumbing to the curse, little witch. Open your bleary eyes and look at what’s happening right in front of you.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you anyway? And how do we stop this curse?” I asked out loud.

“C—il.”

Devon’s voice cut through the chaos in my head. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. Standing at the garage entrance, he watched me like he wasn’t sure if I would bolt if he tried to speak.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He glanced at the carriage before looking back at me. “I don’t think you should head to Irving Island right now. It’s not wise to be right inside that insidious red shadow and fog, even if you’re immune.”

Before I could counter, Mouriana had chimed in with her annoyingly smug tone. “Here. Since you’re so intent on ignoring the connection, I’ll help you out. Thank me later.”

I didn’t even have time to form the thought properly before it hit me.

His unfiltered thoughts.

They surged into my mind like a dam had shattered, flooding me with the naked, unchecked chaos he’d kept hidden. Devon’s emotions—so tightly reined in, so carefully guarded—slammed into me with the subtlety of a battering ram.

Grief. Guilt. Frustration.

They twisted and coiled, each a separate storm that merged into a hurricane. It dragged me under, pressing against my chest until I could barely breathe.

Sweet Gaia. He was drowning.

My knees buckled, strength seeping from me as I gripped the carriage’s door knob for support. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out every other sound except for the roar of his despair.

“C—il?”

His voice broke through the haze, but it felt distant. I blinked, my vision clearing to realize he was closer now. His hand hovered near mine, hesitant.

“Devon,” I murmured. He had me staring at him like a crazy person.

My hands reached out to hold his face before I could stop myself. His skin felt warm under my palms, but the heat did not comfort me. It only exacerbated his suffocating pain.

“I’”

The words crumbled before I could string them together. What could I even say? That I was sorry? That I didn’t realize how much he was carrying because I was too consumed by my own misery? It felt hollow, meaningless.

Instead, I slipped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Devon stiffened under my touch at first. I expected him to pull away, to tell me this wasn’t necessary, or worse, unwelcome. But he didn’t.

Slowly, cautiously, he leaned into me.

His weight settled against me, heavy but not crushing, as if he was testing whether I could bear it. My hands gripped his back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if I could anchor us both. His breath brushed against my neck, and for the first time, I felt his pain lessen, as if my presence could ease the storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, before I could think of a better thing to say.

He patted my back lightly with his hands. “Because it’s not yours to carry.”

Something in me cracked when he said that. “That’s not how this works, Devon,” I murmured against his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to carry it alone. That’s not what this is.”

He didn’t answer, but his silence was enough. There wasn’t any agreement or defiance there. It was exhaustion. Pure, utter exhaustion.

And I understood it.