Raffaele sat up fully, staring at me with those dark, inscrutable eyes. Then, to my surprise, he cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the tears from my cheeks.
“I don’t fucking care,” he said.
I gaped at him. “What?”
“I don’t care,” he repeated, his gaze holding mine. “None of it matters.”
“But—”
“Vivian, you are my wife. I am your husband. You are mine.” His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “Fucking Izo can get into magical creatures’ minds with minimal effort. I can only imagine how easily he was able to penetrate your human consciousness.”
I bit my lip, shame flooding through me. “Yes, but… I wanted to break free. There was a part of me that made a conscious decision without being forced. I wanted you to lose your powers. I wanted to be rid of this fucking necklace.” I reached up, my fingers brushing the cold metal around my neck.
“I didn’t give you any reasons to want to stay with me, and absolutely no reason to trust me. I recognize how much bravery it must have taken to tell me now.” His gaze softened, and to my shock, I didn’t see anger or betrayal. I saw… love. He reached out, and with nothing more than a purposeful touch, he removed the choker.
“Izo has been a thorn in my side for years,” he said. “I hate the bastard for using you as a tool to get to me. And he’ll fucking pay for messing withmywife.”
I watched as the wheels in his mind began to turn, his expression growing thoughtful. Through the bond, I could feel the shift in his focus, his determination taking hold.
“You’re plotting,” I said quietly.
“Always.”
“What are you thinking?”
He sighed. “I thought I was losing my powers because of the madness that runs in my family. Illusion magic, dark magic—it takes a toll. My father…” His jaw clenched. “He was always evil, but in his later years, he became maniacal. Unreasonable. Dangerous. That’s the price of the magic we wield. But I was wrong. It wasn’t madness. It was Izo.”
He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His breath was warm against my skin, and the bond pulsed in quiet reassurance.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”
I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder. For now, I was content to simply exist in his arms and forget the world outside the cabin.
39
RAFFAELE
The crisp mountain air hit my face as I stepped outside, the familiar scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of forest creatures added to the peace of the place. Inside, I could hear the water running from the bathroom where Vivian was showering. I had at least thirty minutes before she’d be finished.
The wards shimmered faintly in the early morning light. It was strong—years of meticulous preparation had ensured that—but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
I couldn’t risk The Ashen—or worse, my father—finding us.
As I walked the perimeter, I extended my hand, summoning my shadows. They writhed at my fingertips, sluggish and unsteady, like smoke caught in an invisible wind. I pushed them forward, willing them to extend outward and strengthen the wards.
The shadows faltered.
“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, clenching my fists as I tried again. The bond between me and my magic felt thinner than ever, a thread unraveling by the day. My shadows lashed out one last time before dissipating entirely, fading into the air like a dying breath.
“Fuck.”
The siren’s kiss was sinking its claws deeper into me. It was a parasite feeding on my power, stealing pieces of me I couldn’t afford to lose. Anger flooded me at the thought of Izo manipulating Vivian into being his puppet. I needed to be able to protect her now more than ever—and with my power waning, it was feeling more and more impossible.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to steady the panic clawing at the edges of my mind. My faltering magic wasn’t merely a personal inconvenience. It was a threat to Vivian. If I couldn’t protect her, and if I couldn’t protect my people, then what the fuck was I good for?
I pulled my phone from my pocket, turning it over in my hands as I moved farther from the cabin. The safehouse was designed to suppress all signals—magical, technological, anything that could be traced. But I’d built it with one small weakness: an outer edge where cell signals could still reach.
It was a risk I’d calculated years ago, one I had hoped would never matter. Now, it was a lifeline I couldn’t ignore.
