Knowing better doesn’t make it easier, it just makes the restraint hurt more.
“I’m coming with you,” I say. It’s not a request.
He doesn’t argue. He can’t argue. We both know this ends with blood and screaming.
The only question is whose.
Crave steps into the kill zone with the weight of a weapon drawn, each boot hitting the ground with enough force to make the earth complain. Cracks splinter outward beneath his stride, not from impact, but pressure, power pressing down and daring the ground to resist.
I move beside him, matching his pace. Magic rolls outward from me in a controlled surge, the air parting as we advance,wind spiraling low around our boots and driving dust and debris away in sharp bursts. Rubble skitters and clatters as we pass.
My hair snaps back around my shoulders, strands lifting and refusing to settle as residual power hums in the space between us.
Dust hangs thick in the air.
Wind coils low and restless at our feet.
We come to a stop together. Shoulders squared and power rolling off us in visible waves.
Viktor is waiting, and for the first time since this fight began, the ground beneath him trembles becauseweare standing on it. And somewhere beyond perception, in dimensions that make my Crimson Sight ache, five Originals watch. They watch to see if a power like mine can be wielded without corruption.
If our love can survive the chaos.
If I am worth the cost Crave paid to keep me breathing.
And as the battle explodes around us, I step forward, my Bloodfire burning bright beneath my skin, ready to show the Coven of Crowsexactlywhat a Blood Witch can do.
Without losing myself in the process.
The real war starts now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
CRAVE
The moment my boots hit the asphalt, Viktor’s smile widens.
Not the confident smirk of a challenger facing an opponent. Something else, something that makes my millennia -old instincts scream warnings my diminished body can’t fully act on.
Triumph.
He’s already won, and he knows it.
“Draven.” My name rolls off his tongue with mock reverence, each syllable dripping with centuries of resentment barely contained beneath a veneer of civility. “You look… diminished. The Binding suits you. Makes you almost mortal. Almostbreakable.”
I don’t rise to the bait. I can’t afford to. Every ounce of control matters when you’re running on speed and teeth instead of the crushing weight of Original power.
“You wanted my attention,” I say, my voice steady despite the hollow ache where my strength used to live. “You’ve got it. Let’s finish this.”
Viktor’s laughter spills out, each note unnaturally precise. It echoes where it shouldn’t, crawling over stone and bone alike, cutting clean through the chaos until every other sound seems to recoil from it.
“Finish?” he muses. “Brother, we haven’t even started.”
He gestures, and the fighting around us…
Stops.
Not gradually. Not with shouted commands or tactical withdrawal. One moment, feral vampires are tearing into my brothers’ defenses, and the next, they freeze mid-attack, their movements locked as though someone hit pause on reality itself.
