The storm had calmed, but my mind had not. What Lyra said about Damien still rattled around in my head, a slow-burning fire I couldn’t put out.

I didn’t know how to process that. Didn’t know what to do with the idea that Damien—emotionless Damien—had felt something for me all along.

But I couldn’t think about that now or my brain would explode.

The forest was quiet, the damp earth giving way beneath my boots as Lyra and I moved toward the southern perimeter of the Nightclaw territory.

Getting out of the pack’s walled-in territory was trickier than usual, but not impossible. There were four guarded exits, and though each was heavily patrolled, I knew the shift rotation schedules by heart, because I had trained with them.

Lyra and I kept to the shadows, slipping through the break in patrol at the southernmost gate. The walls loomed high behind us, thick stone fortifications built generations ago to keep threats out—and, at times, keep people in.

Once we were past the final checkpoint, Lyra shot me a flat look.

“This is such a bad idea,” she muttered.

I smirked. “Then why are you here?”

She exhaled dramatically, pulling her hood tighter. “Because if you get yourself killed, Marrick will never let me hear the end of it.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing.

“Shouldn’t you be heading back to Damien and throwing yourself into his arms right now?” she asked. “Isn’t that more important? You both want each other.”

Right, but he’d said nothing for over a decade. I know I said nothing too, but why didn’t he? I didn’t want to think about it or him. So I didn’t respond to Lyra’s question, just huffed loudly as I continued on my way.

It wasn’t a short walk to where I had been taken. By the time we reached the clearing where I’d found the witches that night, the scent of charred herbs, and burnt wax still lingered in the air. The heavy rain couldn’t even wash it way. It made me wonder what sort of ritual they were doing here in the first place.

The site was mostly intact. The darkened stones still formed a broken circle, the remnants of the symbols barely washed away by the storm.

A cold chill curled down my spine as I took a slow step forward. The air shifted, wafting to me with the most spurring scent.

Lyra tensed beside me, and I didn’t have to turn to know someone else was here. Their presence seared into me, sending a sharp, unwelcome awareness crawling up my skin. I knew it before I heard his voice.

“You’re alive?”

I stiffened, because I knew that voice. And when I turned, my witch mate was there.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shrouded in the mist, his dark cloak damp from the rain, his ember eyes glowing with pure, stunned disbelief. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

For a long, stretched moment, neither of us spoke as we gawked at each other.

And then Lyra sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body snapping upright in realization. I didn’t have to look at her to know she had put the pieces together.

“This is him?” she hissed, voice low, lethal, her hands already reaching for her daggers strapped to her thighs.

He barely spared her a glance. His eyes were still locked onto mine, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You’re not supposed to be alive,” he murmured, his voice oddly hollow.

A slow, terrible understanding settled in Lyra’s eyes.

“Luna,” she said, her voice suddenly sharp, urgent. “What is he talking about? Why shouldn’t you be alive?”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening, because I hadn’t told her, and it was the second thing Kael had told me not to share with anyone else.

Lyra’s gaze whipped back to him, full of rage and suspicion. “What do you mean she’s not supposed to be alive?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away from me.

I forced out a breath. “I jumped into the river,” I admitted.

Lyra’s head snapped toward me, her mouth parting in shock. “You what?” she whispered.

“I was trying to escape,” I explained, as if saying it flatly would dull the reality of it. “I ran, and when I got to the river, I jumped in.”

Lyra stared at me, eyes wide, disbelieving. “Luna, you survived the Enchanted River?” I nodded. “That’s why you wouldn’t answer the elders earlier.”

His expression shifted then, a dark and unreadable thing flickering across his face. “That should have killed you,” he said.

I met his gaze. “It didn’t, and you seem disappointed about that.”

His pale eyes darkened even more. “I am at a loss. Merely crossing through an enchanted gate took a toll on us, yet you’re unscathed from jumping in. How?”

Lyra let out a laugh, dragging a hand down her face. “Gods, Luna—do you have any idea’” She stopped, shaking her head. “No wonder, Marrick’s been acting like he’s going mad. He knows.”

I shrugged. “The three of them know. Don’t breathe a word of it, Alpha Kael specifically said not to tell anyone else about it.”

His head tilted slightly. “Ah. So your Alpha knows too.”

That broke whatever little patience Lyra had left. She took a sharp step forward, her dagger flashing in the moonlight. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to her,” she snarled.

His expression barely shifted, but something about the way he turned his gaze on her—slow, disinterested—made it painfully clear he didn’t see Lyra as a threat. Didn’t even acknowledge her as worthy of his attention.

That made me wonder just how powerful a witch he was.

“You’re wasting my time, wolf,” he said calmly.

Lyra’s snarl deepened, and for a second, I thought she might actually attack him. And I wouldn’t stop her because even I took offence to the way he said wolf.

But then he looked back at me, and his entire demeanour changed. It was subtle. Barely noticeable to someone who wasn’t paying attention. But I was.

The cutting edge in his tone softened, the tension in his posture eased, and his gaze lacked the same bored dismissal he had given Lyra.

And that scared me more than anything else because it meant he recognized what I was to him, just like a wolf mate would.

But was the bond the same with witches? I mean, I felt the pull, the invisible thing binding us, but that was about it. There was no all-consuming, veracious attraction, aside from the vague acknowledgment that he was eye candy.

Not like it was with Damien. It puzzled me. The mate bond should dull whatever feelings and connection I had with Damien. Why did it somehow overshadow what I should feel for my mate instead?

He tilted his head, watching me too closely. “You and I,” he said quietly. “We need to talk.”

I swallowed, my fingers curling into fists. “We have nothing to talk about,” I bit out. “In fact, we’ve indulged you long enough. If we’re found out, we’d be in serious trouble.”

Because explaining that we didn’t actually come out here to meet with a witch would be impossible. I couldn’t brand Lyra an outcast alongside me.

“I don’t know you,” I continued sharply, “and I have no interest in knowing you.”

His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides, and then he stepped forward. Lyra lunged. I barely had time to react before she was in front of me, a dagger drawn, her entire body coiled and ready to strike.

He didn’t flinch. He just turned his gaze to her, unbothered, like she was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Call off your hound, Luna,” he said smoothly. “Or I might start to think you don’t want me here.”

Lyra bristled. “Oh, we don’t,” she hissed. “And I don’t need her permission to put a blade through your throat.”

He finally smirked, tilting his head. “How very” wolf of you.”

Lyra snarled, taking a step forward, but I caught her arm before she could do anything stupid.

“Lyra,” I warned.

She didn’t budge, eyes locked onto him, radiating pure, unfiltered hatred.

I turned my gaze back to him, exhaling slowly. He was still staring at me, like he was trying to make sense of something impossible.

“You are mine,” he spat, his voice suddenly harsher, desperate. “It doesn’t matter whether you have any interest in this or not.”

My breath hitched at his audacity, but I held my ground.

“I crossed the Divide to find you,” he continued, eyes burning, his chest rising and falling unevenly, “and by the goddess” teeth, I will not return to Hearthstone without you!”

I scoffed, wrenching Lyra back as I stepped forward, closing the space between us until we were almost nose to nose, although I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. Up close, his eyes were just as beautiful as I remembered them. Not that it mattered.

“That is not how the mate bond works with wolves,” I snapped, my voice sharper than the blade in Lyra’s grip. “You cannot force it. The goddess grants us the will to reject it if we don’t want it.”

His jaw ticked, those stunning eyes darkening.

“And I,” I continued, “would no sooner die than abandon my pack to be the mate of a witch.”

His eyes darkened. “You may be a wolf,” he said, and his was softer, but not in kindness. More like a blade, honed and waiting. “But I am not. This bond doesn’t work the same way for us. Once tethered, the goddess reveals our mates to us, and only death breaks that bond. It is why you’re here, Luna Baudelaire, in the dead of night, with no idea why you felt the nagging desire to come. You belong to me.”

My breath hitched, but I masked it, hating the way his words made my pulse skitter out of rhythm, the way the mate bond pulled taut between us, stretching across the space like an invisible shackle.

And him saying my name like he knew me, when I didn’t even know the first damn thing about him. I clenched my jaw, shaking my head.

“If I fail to get you out of here and to safety,” he continued, his voice turning sharp, “I cannot protect you. And your pack won’t either. They will cast you out to save themselves when the others come demanding for you.”

Something twisted in my gut. As much as I wanted to ask him what others he was yapping on about, something shifted in the air. I felt it before I heard them.

A handful of warriors gaining on us. No, not warriors. Witches. I could almost taste the tang of their magic as they crept closer.

I snapped around to face Lyra—But then arms locked around me. One over my mouth, the other snaking around my waist, pulling me back.

Lyra shifted immediately, a guttural growl ripping from her throat as she prepared to lunge. Then she sensed the group of witches around us and hesitated.

“Do not hurt her!” my mate ordered, and I barely had time to register the meaning of his words before I saw them.

The witches emerged from the shadows, stepping forward into the fading mist—not four like the night they took me, but twelve.

Twelve witches rounded Lyra, their black cloaks shifting like liquid night, their eyes flickering with the glow of their power as they wove their magic around her with my mate holding me conveniently out of the glowing seal now hovering around her.

Panic clawed its way up my throat, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, my snarl muffled against his palm.

“Stop the alpha link,” he commanded, as chaos unfolded around us.

My stomach dropped. So that’s how they did it.

That was how they had cut me off from Kael’s link that night—how they had kept me isolated, vulnerable. The knowledge frustrated me, even as I bit down on his palm, drawing blood.

He hissed, and his grip tightened.

“You’re starting to become a pain, Luna,” he growled against my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

I snarled, thrashing against his hold, but he was too strong, his grip was unrelenting as I struggled.

Lyra lunged—fast, ruthless—but the witches were ready. One of them lifted a hand, murmuring something in an ancient, lilting language.

And then Lyra froze. Her entire body locked mid-motion, like she had hit an invisible wall. Her eyes widened in shock, her snarl cut off abruptly, and she staggered back, her limbs suddenly uncooperative, unresponsive.

I screamed against his palm, thrashing harder, but his grip was iron, his breath even, composed.

“You can’t howl either, my sweet,” he muttered.

His voice wasn’t mocking. It was stating a fact. He had planned for this, because they had done this before. And I had walked straight into it.

But his words gave me pause. I went still in his arms, my breathing uneven, my thoughts racing.

How had he been so prepared for this exact moment? Not just to silence our alpha link, but to expect my reaction, and counter for every move I made?

Did he have the gift of premonition? Had he seen this before it happened? Had he known who I was long before I even knew he existed?

Slowly, carefully, he released his grip over my mouth, his fingers lingering just a second too long before pulling away.

“Do you get it now?” he whispered against my head, his breath warm, too close, too calm. “I will always be one step ahead.”

A shiver crawled up my spine.

“And I mean you no harm, Luna,” he continued. “Being my mate puts you in incredible danger, and I only wish to protect you.”

I almost laughed. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, just enough to let my lips curl into a cold smirk.

“I don’t suppose you realize Lyra is the Beta’s mate,” I said, my voice mockingly casual, “and even though you’ve cut off her mind link to our Alpha’”

I felt him still against me, his muscles tensing.

“’No magic can suppress the wolf mate bond. Especially when one feels cornered.”

A fraction of a second. A hesitation. I had him now.

“Stop whatever you’re doing to her,” I said, “or I will kill you.”

Because if anything happened to Lyra, I couldn’t face Marrick. And I would do anything to appease him, even if it meant ripping this damn witch’s heart out of his still-beating chest.

The thought burned through my veins like acid, heavy and violent, unfurling inside me. And gods, it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, as the searing pain threatened to consume me. I struggled to breathe, the intensity of the emotion overpowering my senses. I had to release it, or it would tear me apart from the inside.

“Let her go!” I yelled, and the moment the words left my lips, the air warped.

The clearing shook as a vortex of pure force roared through it. My voice burst into a wave that swept across the coven.

I watched, stunned, as they were whipped up and tossed clean away from Lyra—sent flying in all directions, crashing into the trees, the ground, each other.

And yet it did nothing to my mate. He still held me.

As the vortex subsided, I gasped for breath. The burning thought finally extinguished, leaving only a cold emptiness in its wake.

Lyra collapsed onto her hands and knees with a sharp whimper, gasping as whatever spell had bound her snapped apart like a brittle thread.

I froze. We both did.

His coven—those who weren’t knocked clean out—staggered to their feet, groaning, their robes torn, their magic fluttering unsteadily around them. His grip on me tightened, and I felt his pulse hammering against my back, too fast, too shaken for someone who had just claimed to be one step ahead.

“Lyra, go!” I called out to her.

Without hesitation, she took off, vanishing into the trees before they could even think about chasing her.

As soon as she disappeared, his hand loosened slightly, as if he only just realized he had been holding onto me like a lifeline.

I exhaled sharply, shakily. And then, finally, I turned my head to look at him.

And what I saw was pure, unfiltered shock.