And then—The next pulse hit harder.
Not soft. Not steady.
A flicker of emotion that wasn’t mine.
Warm hands. Masculine voices. Her name whispered like a prayer.
Her men. What the fuck?
I froze.
The bond didn’t show visions. It wasn’t supposed to. But my bond seemed different. It whispered secrets of skin against skin and of claiming hands that weren’t mine.
Nathan’s warmth against her. Zane’s teasing murmur. Zeke’s quiet protectiveness. Jets intensity. My sniveling nephew’s devotion.
My jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone.
They were close to her now.
Comforting her.
Touching her.
The bond didn’t show details, only impressions—but that was enough.
I growled under my breath, pacing again, the resentment old and savage. Those men had something I didn’t even want—shouldn’twant—and yet the idea of their hands on her skin made something feral inside me lunge.
“Pathetic,” I spat at myself.
Wanting what belonged to others was beneath me. Being tethered to them through her was an insult.
Each man left a mark on her chest—symbols shaped by their bond.
Selene had taken it from her. I didn’t know about that until it was already done. At the time, part of me delighted in her cruelty. Now I wanted to slit her fucking throat.
But the mark was back. I’d seen it in the tunnels. I’d seen their devotion. Their certainty.
They would burn the world to keep her safe.
And there was no doubt she loved them back.
I hated that.
Not the love—I didn’t give a single shit about that—but the security of it, the inevitability. That ironclad devotion that wrapped around her like chains.
They didn’t fear what she could become. They didn’t fear what she could destroy.
They didn’t fearher.
And they sure as hell didn’t fear the bond.
Fucking morons.
I flexed my hand, watching lightning-like energy crackle across my palm—part of the immense power my injections gave me.
“I am not one of them,” I said aloud to the empty room.
I wasn’t part of their little brotherhood. I wasn’t their ally, their friend.
