I didn't regret it.
Not immediately.
Not even when the Elders argued about "precedent" and "tradition" while Kaelen glared as if he could set me on fire with his mind.
I just stood there, blood still simmering from the nullifier, and refused to blink.
Because for the first time in weeks—maybe years—I felt like I had myself back.
And then I realized… I had no idea what to do next.
"You bought us time," Ruvan murmured as we walked from the arena.
"I bought me a choice," I corrected.
"And made him your enemy."
"He was never anything else."
Talia met us just outside the southern arch, breathless and pale.
"Eira—your cabin. Someone's gone through it. Ripped the wards. Your mother's pendant—it's gone."
My heart froze.
I didn't remember moving, but suddenly I was running, the air slicing cold against my skin as we cut through the outer woods toward the lone cottage I had been calling mine.
Not anymore.
The door was off its hinges. The bed torn apart. Drawers gutted. And the small silver locket my mother had given me—the one she said belonged to her bloodline?
Gone.
"He's digging now," I whispered. "He's trying to twist everything."
"He's trying to erase you," Ruvan said, jaw clenched.
-
That night, I couldn't sleep. Again.
The moon was high and honey-pale, like it had no interest in darkness tonight. I sat by the balcony of Ruvan's quarters—yes, his, because no one dared enter his wing unless invited—and stared at the woods until my eyes burned.
"You're going to wear out the horizon," he said behind me.
"Maybe it deserves it."
He joined me, barefoot, shirt loose over his chest, looking less like an Alpha-in-waiting and more like a myth leaning against the stone.
"You did something today that most wolves wouldn't dare. You broke a sacred bond."
"It didn't feel sacred."
"Exactly."
There was a pause. A crackling quiet, like something unspoken curling in the space between us.
"I have to know the truth," I said.
"About the contract?"
"About my mother. What she gave up. Why she gave me up."
Ruvan nodded.
"Then we go north. To the Ravelle Vault."
I turned sharply.
"That's forbidden territory."
"Only if you're not carrying a Ravelle bloodline."
"And if we're caught?"
"We blame the moon. It's full. Makes us all do stupid things."
We left the next morning, just before dawn.
Just me, Ruvan, and the quiet promise of something bigger than either of us. Talia stayed behind to cover for us, faking reports, misdirecting trackers. She was far too good at lying. Remind me to worry about that later.
The Ravelle Vault wasn't marked on any map. You had to feel for it, blood humming like a compass. Ruvan let me lead, following the twitch in my veins as we crossed the frost-quiet pine woods that had once been mine.
By nightfall, we found the ruin.
Not really a ruin, not in the falling-apart way. More like a temple swallowed by earth—part stone, part root, part forgotten.
I knelt at the threshold, pressing my hand to the crescent-carved gate.
It opened.
Dust and air heavy with memory rushed past us as the ground moaned beneath.
Ruvan stepped in first, torch raised. I followed, heart hammering.
The Vault was carved in spirals—hallways of stone and bone, family crests etched into the walls like scars. We passed doors sealed with wolfclaw sigils, and finally reached a chamber lined with relics.
Letters. Amulets. Blood-bound scrolls.
And at the center—a pedestal with a steel-etched book bound in Ravelle hide.
I touched it. It pulsed beneath my fingers.
And opened.
The first page was addressed to me.
'Eira,
If you're reading this, I'm probably dead, which—knowing your temperament—means you were too stubborn to stop digging.
Good. You got that from me.'
My breath caught. My mother's handwriting.
I made a deal. Not for survival. Not for power. But for silence.
Your birth wasn't supposed to happen.
You were a consequence. A beautiful, fierce, impossible one. But a consequence.
I couldn't protect you from their laws, so I traded bloodlines to give you a chance.
I gave you his name—but not his legacy.
I turned the page.
There it was.
A name scratched in the corner. Faint, faded—but still clear.
Kaelen.
The room spun.
"He's not just your enemy," Ruvan said softly behind me.
"He's my half-brother."
I laughed.
I swear I did.
The kind of laugh you let out when the world finally loses its last screw and you're stuck holding the wrench.
"I kissed him."
"You stabbed him too," Ruvan offered.
"That doesn't balance it out!"
"Let's call it a draw?"
We didn't linger.
There were still scrolls to read. Truths to process. But I couldn't think in there—not with the weight of legacy pressing against my chest like a coffin lid.
We emerged beneath a sky slick with stars. I didn't say anything for a long time.
And then I realized Ruvan had been watching me. Quiet. Steady.
"You don't have to decide what to do tonight," he said.
"I know. But it feels like every time I catch my breath, the next truth knocks the wind out of me again."
"Then let me give you something easier."
I blinked.
"Like what?"
He stepped closer. His hand brushed mine, calloused and warm.
"Like this."
And then he kissed me.
Not careful.
Not hesitant.
But real.
Fierce. Reverent. And mine.
The kind of kiss that says I see the chaos inside you, and I want in anyway.
My knees nearly buckled.
And just when the kiss deepened—just when my mind went foggy with heat and yes—
A whistle cracked through the trees.
Then a blade lodged in the bark inches from Ruvan's head.
We spun.
Figures cloaked in black emerged from the shadows. Five. Maybe six. No visible scent.
Ruvan snarled, shifting partially—teeth elongating, eyes golden.
"Assassins," he growled.
"Sent by Kaelen?"
"Or something worse."
I dropped into a crouch, heart pulsing.
So much for soft moments.
The first assassin lunged. Ruvan caught him mid-air, slamming him into the dirt with a growl that shook the trees.
Another circled me—fast, sharp, feral. Not wolf. Not human.
I dodged the swipe of a blade, flipped them over my shoulder, and drove a knee into their throat.
They gurgled. Went still.
But the last two came together—one swinging high, one low.
Ruvan roared, shielding my back as I rolled and grabbed a dropped dagger.
We fought like we'd done this a hundred times. Seamless. Brutal. Beautiful.
And then—
Silence.
Five bodies on the ground. One limping away.
Ruvan threw a blade.
It pinned the last one to a tree by the shoulder.
"You're not leaving until you tell me who sent you."
The assassin wheezed. Blood poured from their mouth.
"We don't answer to Alphas…"
"Then who?" I snapped.
A slow, grim smile.
"The one you should have feared from the beginning."
And then they convulsed.
Bit down on something.
And died.
Ruvan stared at me, breathing hard.
"This wasn't Kaelen."
"Then who the hell was it?"