“Then why?—”
“How could he just put all that responsibility on me?” The words burst out of him like a dam breaking. “A century, Isla. A hundred years of carrying his duties, managing his people, making decisions he should have been making while he hid away in that beach house feeling sorry for himself.”
Isla’s heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. “He was grieving?—”
“We were all grieving!” Kaelith’s hands clenched into fists. “His parents weren’t the only ones who died that night. But the rest of us didn’t get the luxury of falling apart. Someone had to keep the clan together, and that someone was always me.”
“But he’s changing,” Isla said urgently. “You’ve seen it. He’s been trying to be more present, more engaged?—”
“Only because you cracked his shell,” Kaelith said bitterly. “Only then did he start acting like the man I remembered from before that terrible night. But it doesn’t undo a century of dealing with someone who was impossible to reach, someone who was rigid and detached and...” He trailed off, running a hand through his auburn hair. “It grew old.”
“So you decided to become Alpha yourself?”
“I was basically Alpha anyway,” he said with a hollow laugh. “For a hundred years, I’ve been the one making the real decisions, handling the day-to-day leadership. All I wanted was the recognition, the official title. But Damon would never step aside willingly.”
“So Veyrik offered to help?”
Kaelith’s expression darkened. “Veyrik has been whispering in my ear for years, telling me I deserved better than beingDamon’s shadow. He made it sound so reasonable, so... inevitable.” He paused. “But when the ambush failed, I had to pivot.”
“So what was the path forward after the ambush?” Isla asked, though she dreaded the answer.
“Give you to Veyrik. Serve as his second-in-command. Watch Damon finally die.” His voice was flat. “It’s the only way now.”
“Why would you want to be Veyrik’s second instead of Damon’s?” Isla leaned forward, putting every ounce of conviction into her words. “Damon is honest, honorable. He’s changing, growing, becoming the leader his people need. Can’t you see that?”
“I do see it,” Kaelith said quietly. “But I’ve already pledged my allegiance to Veyrik. There’s no going back on that kind of oath.”
“There’s always a choice,” Isla said fiercely. “At least let me go. At least spare Damon. Don’t let Veyrik destroy everything.”
Kaelith’s face was a mask of anguish, and she could see him wavering, the bonds of old friendship pulling against whatever hold Veyrik had over him.
Then a sound cut through the air that made them both freeze—a roar that shook the very foundations of the boat, deep and primal and filled with deadly promise.
Isla’s heart leaped.
Damon.
Kaelith gripped Isla’s arm as he hauled her up from the cabin, his fingers digging into her flesh with surprising force. The drug’s effects had mostly worn off, but her legs still felt unsteady as he guided her through the narrow corridor toward the main deck. Each step felt like walking toward her execution.
This is it,she thought, her heart hammering.This is where I become the pawn. Where I watch Damon die trying to save me.
The bright sun hit her face as they emerged onto the deck, and she had to squint against the glare reflecting off the ocean’s surface. The yacht bobbed gently in the swells, but the peaceful setting did nothing to calm the terror coursing through her veins.
Veyrik stood at the bow like a conquering general. His jet-black hair caught the sunlight, and that permanent smirk twisted his lips as he watched the horizon with predatory satisfaction. He hadn’t shifted into his dragon form yet, which struck her as odd.
What game was he playing?
Then she heard it—a sound that made her soul sing even as it terrified her. The thunderous beat of massive wings cutting through the air, growing closer with each passing second. Damon’s obsidian dragon form appeared on the horizon, his wingspan casting a shadow across the water as he approached with lethal intent. Even from this distance, she could see the molten green fire burning in his eyes, a fury so intense it seemed to heat the very air around them.
“Perfect timing,” Veyrik said without turning around. “Our guest of honor has arrived.”
But Kaelith’s grip on her arm loosened, and when she looked up at him, she saw something that made her breath hitch. His face had gone pale, his bright blue eyes wide with what looked like genuine terror—not of Damon, but of what he’d set in motion.
“Veyrik,” Kaelith’s voice cracked slightly. “I’m leaving. With Isla. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The rival Alpha turned slowly, his ice-blue eyes glittering with cold amusement.
“Is that so?”
