That night, Malek burned one of our safehouses to the ground. And with it, two shifters who’d dared to follow me instead of him.
He went rogue. We didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.
And that was the end of the Pact.
I pause, watching her, gauging how much of this she can take. Her brows knit, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“There’s more,” I say, my voice low.
Because there’s always more.
“Go on,” she whispers.
“Roman Vexley.” The name tastes like bitter poison on my tongue. “He wasn’t one of us, not in the blood oath, but hecircled us like a predator circles wounded prey. Manipulator. Traitor. He’s been a ghost for decades, but I can feel him moving again. The air tastes like him: smoke and deceit and ambition.”
“If he comes back, if he makes a play…”
I lean back, studying the way the firelight licks over her face.
“We may have to come back together,” I admit. The words taste like rust, like pulling nails out of old wood. “Not the same way. Not with the same chains. But the Pact… it may have to rise again.”
Her eyes widen just a fraction, but she doesn’t look away. That’s what I needed to see.
Because if this is coming, she needs to know what’s at stake. And what it will cost me to call my brothers home.
I hear the door open the moment she slips out of the room. Mary doesn’t bother knocking—she’s on me before I can even stand.
“What the hell did you just do?” Her voice is sharp enough to cut through the air. “You told her.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flash, that stormy grey they get when she’s holding back more than she’s saying. “Do you have any idea what kind of target that paints on her? What you’ve just pulled her into?”
“I know exactly what I’ve pulled her into.” I keep my tone level, controlled. “And I’d rather she be armed with the truth than walking blind into what’s coming.”
“She’s not ready.”
“She will be.”
Mary steps closer, squaring off with me like she’s still trying to decide whether to slap me or shake me. “This isn’t just your history, Darius. This is blood oath. This is war you’re talking about resurrecting. And if you start pulling on those threads?—”
“I’m not starting anything,” I cut in, my voice deepening until it has that weight that makes people stop talking. “It’s already started. Roman’s moving. I can feel it.”
She studies me for a moment, searching my face for doubt and finding none.
She exhales through her nose, sharp and slow. “Then you better make damn sure she survives it.”
I meet her stare without blinking. “That’s the plan.”
19
TESSA
Ican still feel the weight of his voice in my chest when I walk upstairs.
It’s not just the story, it’s the way he said it. That low, steady rumble like every word was something he’d carried too long, and letting it go was equal parts relief and punishment. The firelight had carved his face into sharp lines, but there’d been something else in his eyes when he looked at me… something that made my stomach knot and my pulse trip over itself.
I close my bedroom door softly, leaning against it for a moment just to breathe. But the quiet doesn’t last long.
