“I’mnotgoing to lose control!”The declaration tears out of me, carrying weight far beyond sound. The air shudders, rippling outward as reality itself flexes to accommodate the command woven through my voice. Power bleeds into every syllable, warping the space around us, making the lights flicker and the floor hum beneath my feet.
I register, distantly, that the words came out sharper than I meant them to, but there’s no mistaking what slipped through. The Voice of Lilith gleams beneath my own, ancient and undeniable, and the room reacts instantly—bodies tense, breath catches, and even the bravest among them flinch, instinct bowing to a force that remembers a time before restraint existed at all.
I force it back down, breathing through the power that wants to surge forward andmakethem believe me. “Sorry. I’m still learning to—”
“Don’t apologize,” Reyna interrupts, moving closer with a warrior’s grace that turns even casual movement into a fighting stance. The Valkyrie’s storm core is sparking erratically, gold and silver energy crackling around her clenched fists, lightning seeking ground. Divine Power recognizing Divine Power, responding to the Coven’s overwhelming presence. “You’re scared. We all are. But fear is useful if you channel it right. Use it to focus. Use it to rememberwhyyou’re fighting.”
She reaches out, and her hand closes around my wrist. The moment our skin connects, her storm energy flows into me, not aggressive but grounding as though she’s literally anchoring me to the earth, to reality, to the present moment.
“In battle…” she says, her Valkyrie training bleeding through every word, “… fear is information. It tells you what matters. What you’re willing to die for. What you’re willing to kill for. Right now, you’re afraid of failing him.” She nods toward Crave, who is outside. “Good. Let that fear sharpen you. Let it remind you what you’re protecting.”
I nod, grateful for her steadiness even as my entire world feels as if it’s tilting on its axis.
Through the windows, I watch Crave cross the threshold into the clubhouse, and the moment he enters the building, the Heart Bind flares between us, tightening gently, a reminder that no matter the space between us, we are joined.
Oh God.
His weakness crashes into me, far heavier than I expected. The Binding didn’t simply lessen his power,it excised it.Where his Original strength once existed, there’s now a void, a raw, hollow absence that throbs a phantom pain like a severed limb,an ache that shouldn’t exist and yet screams that something vital is missing.
The space where he once carried centuries of dominance is empty.
Exposed.
He’s vulnerable.
Killable.
For the first time in millennia, Draven,‘Crave,’is mortal enough to die.
And it’s allmy fault.
The realization slams into my chest. He wouldn’t be Bound if he hadn’t saved me. He wouldn’t be facing execution at dawn if he hadn’t given me his blood. He wouldn’t be diminished and vulnerable if he hadn’t chosen me over his own survival.
Terror bleeds through despite his centuries of discipline, raw and unguarded beneath the iron control he’s spent a lifetime perfecting, and the truth lands with devastating clarity.
Idid this tohim.
My Bloodfire surges in response to the guilt, the rage, the desperate need to fix what I’ve broken. Crimson-gold light explodes beneath my skin, bright enough that Eden actually steps back with a sharp intake of breath.
“Sloane…” she warns, “… your power—”
I won’t fail you.
The promise forms fully, instantly, cutting off whatever she was about to say before the thought can even finish taking shape. It carries the weight of a vow, dense with every shred of determination I possess, too absolute to be mistaken for anything else.
‘I promise. Whatever it takes, I won’t let them kill you. I won’t let them erase everything you’ve built. I’ll burn the Coven itself before I let them take you from me.’
Silence follows, not empty, but suspended, taut as a held breath.
Then his answer hits.
Not loud, not rushed, just devastating in its certainty.
‘I know. I believe in you, Sloane. More than I’ve believed in anything in a thousand years.’
The words don’t echo. They settle, dropping into place inside me, locking something down that’s been threatening to come apart. The panic loosens its grip, and the doubt recedes. His faith isn’t fragile or hopeful or conditional.
It’sabsolute.
