I didn’t sleep.

Not that I really expected to. Kael had assigned me a guest chamber on the upper floor—warded, of course, and far too big for someone who was only meant to wait.

I’d paced it for hours. Counted the stones between the windows. Pressed my hand against the wall and tried, once, to reach the pack link. Failing, repeatedly as I watched the pale green wardlight crawl across the floor.

By the time dawn rolled its grey light through the narrow windows, bleeding across the sky, I hadn’t heard a single sound from the rest of the residence. No servants. No murmuring guards. Just the creaks and groaning hush of the old.

A soft knock broke through the quiet a few minutes past sunrise. I didn’t answer, but I knew who it was from his scent.

The door creaked open anyway, and in Damien came.

No armour, or ceremonial coat for the summit. Just a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair was still tousled from the morning drizzle, the curls at his temples catching the light. He stood in the doorway like he wasn’t sure I’d let him in—but also like he’d come in any way.

He shut the door behind him without a word and leaned back against it.

My heart did the usual traitorous thing it always did when he was too close. Skipped. Stuttered. Slammed.

“You,” I said, quieter than I meant to.

“They didn’t send me,” he said. “I volunteered.”

Of course, he did.

He looked around the room like it had offended him. “Kael wants you to stay put until the second call.”

Crossing my arms, I turned back toward the window. I saw why he needed someone here in case he had a message. Because I didn’t have access to the mind link, he needed someone who did to remain with me.

But why hadn’t he come home? I mean, I figured the Alpha would remain at the gate or in the barracks with the witches on our territory. Even so, I expected him to show up at some point.

Damon didn’t move or speak, he just ogled. And that was the problem. He never did, not when it mattered. It was usually me chattering away like a tap without a handle.

The silence between us festered for a bit. There was too much here, coiled and waiting to snap. Not just the summit, but everything we hadn’t said or done.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t yet.

“You’ve been snooping, I see,” he said, and I turned to find his eye on the journal and map still on my bed.

Damn it. I’d forgotten to hide it well, or at least return it before Kael got back.

Something in my chest pulled taut. I closed my eyes for half a second, then turned to face him.

“That map showed a territory I’ve never seen before. One that doesn’t exist in any of the records.”

Damien’s jaw tensed.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” I pushed. “Whatever that region is, it’s not a mistake.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I saw it,” I went on. “It wasn’t just coven or pack land. It was both. Shared. Intertwined. And I saw a mark right at the river bend. The place I fell in. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Damien looked at me, and for once, didn’t look away.

“There’s a hybrid population there,” he said finally. “Cut off. Hidden. Contained.”

“Contained?” My brow furrowed. “By whom?”

“The goddess, we suppose.” He shrugged. “Witches can’t cross into it. Not the way they cross into our territory. Every attempt has failed. Wolves too, in some cases. It’s like the land itself only opens for certain bloodlines.”

“And Kael thinks I’m one of them.”

“He thinks” something about you doesn’t match what we know.”

It was a handy way to say I was one of them. I exhaled sharply and turned away, but not fast enough to hide the way my shoulders curled in. I felt exposed, and not just from what he was saying.

It was him.

The way he watched me like he wanted to fix something he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t ask what I meant, yet he answered like he knew it. “I tried,” he said. “More times than I can count, but we’ve barely got the chance to just talk since”. you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

But I did know. Since we realised, we’ve felt the same way about each other for far too long. Except, he’d done a better job of hiding his.

He stepped forward, and the distance shrank, just enough to make my pulse thrum. I could feel the heat off him. That low, storm-brewing energy that always made it hard to think straight.

“You think this is nothing?” he asked.

“I don’t know what this is,” I snapped. “You never let it become anything.”

He didn’t react. Just looked at me like he had back in the woods—right before I thought he might actually kiss me.

“Do you know how many times I almost did?” he said, voice low. “How many times I stopped myself because I thought I’d ruin you?”

I stared at him, stunned. Breath caught. Heart somewhere between a skip and a fall.

“You’re not a danger to me, Damien,” I whispered.

“No,” he said. “But you’ve always been one to me.”

That shattered something inside me. Broke it clean in two.

“What about now?” I asked. “Am I still a danger?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. Then back up before he swallowed. “Yes.”

We stood there, breath tangled. Everything that had built between us, every look, half-word, almost, was crashing in all at once.

But neither of us moved, and the space between us pulsed like it was alive, like it had teeth and breath and was just waiting for one of us to flinch.

“You’ve always been a danger to me,” he said again, softer this time. “Because with you, I can’t think like a soldier. I don’t calculate. I feel.”

I didn’t know who closed the distance. Maybe he did, or was it me? It didn’t matter.

Because a second later, his hands were in my hair and my fingers were at the collar of his shirt, and the rest of the world just” dropped.

He kissed me like it was something he’d been trying not to do for years.

There was no hesitation. No slow build. Just heat and years of silence and restraint burning out of us in one impossible, breathtaking moment.

His mouth was warm, insistent, familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been. My back hit the wall with a soft thud, and he pressed into me like he didn’t care who was supposed to be watching. Like this was the only place he’d ever wanted to be.

I felt every part of him—anger, guilt, longing, all tangled into the way he touched me like it was the first and last time he’d be allowed to.

And gods, I kissed him back like I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped.

His hand slid down to the curve of my waist, steady, and rough at the same time, grounding me in a way nothing else had in weeks. Maybe longer.

When we finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against mine.

His voice came low, hoarse. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, I whispered, “You should’ve done that years ago.”

He let out a broken laugh, the sound so full of everything we hadn’t said that it nearly brought me to tears.

“I know,” he said.

And at that moment, it didn’t matter that the summit was starting. Or that the wolves and witches were gathering or that the witches might be sharpening spells to put my head on a spike.

None of it mattered, because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone.

There was something sacred about the silence after a moment like that. So unspoken and raw, stitched together by all the near-misses that had come before it.

Damien brushed his thumb along my jaw, eyes tracing every inch of my face like he was trying to memorize it. Like he was already preparing for the world to pull him away from me again.

But I wasn’t letting that happen. Not this time.

I leaned in again, slower now, letting my fingers slide up to the back of his neck. He met me there, lips softer this time, no less hungry. This kiss wasn’t about years lost or guilt buried deep. This one was about wanting.

I gasped when he pulled me closer, my spine arching into him. His hands were on my waist, then my back, then tangled in the hem of my shirt like he didn’t know whether to hold me still or pull me under. I felt like I was burning and breathing for the first time all at once.

Every time we broke apart, we found each other again.

My fingers slipped under the fabric at his waist, and his breath caught. He dipped his head and kissed the hollow between my collarbones like it meant something.

We didn’t talk about love. Not yet. But it was there in every sigh, every pause, every whispered curse against my skin.

It was messy and aching and real.

Then”

He stopped mid-breath. His head lifted sharply, eyes snapping toward the door.

I blinked, still catching my breath. “What”?”

“Get your things,” he said.

The words were low. Clipped with no explanation.

“What?”

He stepped back, already pulling on his coat. “We have to go. Now.”

I straightened, heart still pounding but now for a different reason. “Go where? Damien, what’s”?”

He grabbed my arm, it was gentle, but firm. “There’s no time. I’ll explain later.”

His tone had shifted. The Damien I’d just kissed was gone. In his place stood the Gamma of Nightclaw, spine locked, voice like steel.

But I couldn’t feel what he felt. Couldn’t hear what Kael had sent through the link. Something had changed, and it was urgent.

I nodded once, forcing my body to follow before my mind caught up. I grabbed my jacket, boots, anything I could reach.

Damien was already at the door, jaw tight, waiting.

I followed him out into the corridor, pulse thudding against my ribs.

Whatever peace we’d found in that room shattered the moment Kael’s command came through. And I had no idea what we were running toward.

Or what we were running from.

The front of the residence was so quiet when we reached it. A carriage waited, already harnessed and guarded by two Nightclaw cavalry riders dressed in formal dark uniforms. One of them nodded to Damien as we stepped out, but he didn’t nod back.

Instead, he tossed the reins to the driver.

“Take her to the council hall. I’ll follow behind,” he said loud enough for the guards to hear.

The driver blinked, confused. “But Gamma’”

“Now.”

Something in Damien’s voice made the man snap into motion without another word. The guards fell into formation. The carriage wheels creaked against the wet stone, pulling away from the compound like everything was still business as usual.

The moment it vanished from view, Damien grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the eastern corridor running alongside the residence. It curved in a narrow arc, shadowed by the outer balcony above and framed by a low line of flickering wardlight.

“Damien,” I breathed. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer.

We passed the old statue garden—Kael’s mother’s favourite—and moved toward the rear of the estate. The scent of wet stone and charmed ivy hung thick in the air. A servant’s exit, sealed by an iron grate, sat just ahead.

Damien didn’t hesitate. He lifted the gate with a grunt and waved me through.

“Damien.”

“Keep moving.”

My boots hit the back path with a soft crunch, the gravel slick from last night’s rain. We were behind the Alpha’s residence now, skirting the outermost wall of the compound, closer to the private border gate only Kael and his inner circle used.

We were leaving the compound.

I stopped walking. “Why are you taking me out of Nightclaw?”

He turned, eyes catching the faint light. “I need you safe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t even blink. And that was when the dread hit me. This was an evacuation which mean something had gone wrong very, very wrong at the summit.

But before I could demand more, the mate bond hit me like a spark to dry kindling.

Snapped back to life like a signal lighting up a path I didn’t know existed. One moment I was rooted in the gravel, the next I felt Fabian. Distant but clear. A pull just west of the compound wall, humming with urgency, like a current running under my skin.

“No,” I whispered. “No, not now’”

I staggered a step back, one hand bracing against the wall. The bond pulled hard, and it was nearly impossible to ignore.

He was showing me the way out.

Which was suspicious in itself. How did he know I needed to leave? And what in the goddess” name was he doing this close to Nightclaw?

Damien turned immediately, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

“My witch of a mate,” I said through shallow breaths. “He’s” close.”

“Good,” Damien muttered, already moving. “Follow the link.”

“Wait—what? That’s insane’”

He caught my wrist before I could argue further, pulling me toward the rear gate, his jacket billowing behind him in the wind.

“We don’t have time,” he said under his breath. “Dominion enforcers are already too close.”

The gate came into view just up ahead, heavily warded, locked, and guarded by two sentinels in dark armour. With the summit inside the compound, no one went through that gate without a direct order from Kael himself.

Damien slowed. “I’ll draw them off. Once you see an opening’”

“I’m not leaving without you,” I snapped, cutting him off. “So whatever plan you had, forget it.”

Before he could argue, I grabbed his hand and pulled him sharply in the opposite direction, away from the gate.

“Luna’”

“We don’t need it,” I said. “He’s not leading us there.”

Fabian’s pull was growing stronger now, a magnetic current threading straight through the reinforced wall that bordered Kael’s estate. My eyes caught the shimmer of a spell embedded in the stone.

It was an opening no one was meant to see.

But it was there, woven into the wall like a hidden door, one only a witch could find.

I stepped toward it, still gripping Damien’s hand.

“We go through here.”

And this time, he didn’t stop me.