Page 34

ELIAS

T he sky is bleeding when they catch me.

I knew it was coming.

Knew the way I’ve been moving, reckless, angry, half a breath away from tearing the world apart—was gonna get me into deep shit.

But knowing and caring? Two very different things.

It happens fast. Too fast, even for me.

One second, I’m hunting a pack of rogue Order scouts through the Dead Marsh. Next thing I know, the stench of silver fills my nose, a rune explodes under my feet, and the world goes black.

When I come to, my hands are shackled in iron.

Thick iron laced with spellwork that burns against my skin like a thousand tiny needles.

"Motherfuckers," I hiss, jerking against the chains, but it’s no good.

They’re smart this time.

Prepared.

I lift my head, vision swimming.

A circle of hybrids surrounds me. All shapes, all breeds, except for a cross like mine.

And standing at the front, the biggest bastard of them all—is Ty.

Typhon’s Brood.

I should've fucking known.

Ty smirks down at me, arms crossed over his barrel chest. His dark hair is cropped short now, beard thicker, but those eyes? Still the same. Hungry. Fanatical.

"Well, well, if it isn't the prodigal son," he drawls.

"Go fuck yourself," I snarl, voice rough and bloody.

He laughs, full of easy, oily confidence. "Good to see that mouth still works. We'll break the rest of you soon enough."

I bare my teeth, feeling the wolf itch under my skin. Don't shift. Don't give them the satisfaction.

"What the hell do you want, Ty?"

His smile curdles into something nastier.

"What we’ve always wanted," he says. "A future. One where we aren’t hiding in caves and sewer holes. One where all supernatural beings rule. You're gonna help us get there."

"Like hell," I spit.

"You don’t have a choice."

I yank against the cuffs again, sparks flying off the iron, searing my wrists.

"I’d rather fucking die."

"Would you?" Ty tilts his head. "Or would you rather watch your daddy and that pretty little Fae bitch protecting him get butchered instead?"

The air in my lungs freezes.

Slow.

Deadly.

I lift my head and stare at him.

"You’re lying," I say flatly.

Ty just grins wider. "Am I?"

He tosses something at my feet.

I don't want to look.

I know it's bait.

But I can’t not.

It’s a picture. Grainy, black-and-white surveillance.

Tarek, my father—strapped to a gurney. And behind him, Mira Draven. Kaia’s mother. Pale, worn down, but still standing guard like a goddamn sentinel.

"Found them easy," Ty says conversationally. "After you transferred 'em out of that little nest you took them from. Took some digging. Took some blood." He taps his temple. "But we’ve got eyes everywhere."

I clench my fists so hard the cuffs bite into my flesh.

"You touch them," I growl low, "I will end you."

Ty laughs like it's the best joke he’s heard all year.

"You’ll end no one, Elias. Not chained like a dog." He leans closer, breath hot and rancid against my face. "You want them safe? You’ll do what I fucking tell you."

I want to tear his throat out.

I want to burn this whole place to ash.

But the memory of Tarek’s hollow eyes and Mira’s brittle strength roots me to the spot.

And the thought of Kaia—of her finding her mother’s body because of me—makes something inside me snap. Something fragile and precious I didn’t even know I was still holding.

"I won't start your goddamn war," I snarl.

Ty straightens. Shrugs.

"Then you’ll watch them die."

He signals to his enforcers, a pack of wolves barely restraining themselves.

They start dragging me toward a dark tunnel at the back of the cavern.

"We’ll give you some time to think it over," Ty calls after me. "But not much."

The cuffs burn hotter, stealing the strength from my limbs.

The last thing I see before the darkness swallows me is Ty's smirk.

And I swear to every god and monster still listening— he won't live to regret it.

The cell they throw me in is little more than a pit. Cold, wet stone. No windows. No hope.

Just the sound of dripping water, my own breath rattling in my chest, and the faint, endless gnawing at the edge of my mind.

Every second, my brain chews itself raw. Memories tearing through me like wolves.

Kaia’s face—bright and burning—seared into the backs of my eyelids no matter how hard I try to shut it out.

Her stubbornness. Her fire. The way she could look right into the rotten, cracked parts of me and not even fucking flinch. Like she wasn’t afraid. Like maybe I wasn’t as broken as I thought.

The way she looked at me like I wasn’t just a fucking mistake stitched together by bad bloodlines and worse choices.

Like maybe I could be something better.

But I never let her see the worst of me. Not really.

Held too much back. Built walls around myself so high, even she couldn’t climb them.

Maybe that’s why she ran.

Maybe she saw what I didn’t want her to. That deep down, I’m too fucked up for her. Too angry. Too hollow. Too... poisoned.

Maybe she was right to leave. And everyone’s better off without me.

The thought festers, rotting inside me.

I don't sleep. I don't eat. I just sit here in the dark and let the hate settle into my bones. Let it fill up every crack inside me until there’s no room for anything else.

And when they come back for me?

When they dangle the lives of the only people I have left in front of me like meat to a starving dog? I’ll be ready.

I’ll tear this whole fucking world apart if I have to.

But somewhere deep down, a different voice stirs.

Quieter. Rougher. Older.

Not the rage. Not the wolf.

Not even the cold-blooded pragmatism the vampires taught me.

Something else.

Kaia’s voice, maybe. Or what she saw in me.

You’re better than this, it whispers. You’re not just a weapon. Not just a monster waiting to snap the leash.

You can be more.

Not for them. Not even for her. But for yourself.

I press my palms into the stone, nails biting deep into the rock, and breathe through the hurt. Through the fucking grief clawing up my throat like acid.

I am not my mother’s blade or my father’s shame. I am not Typhon’s fucking pawn.

I’m Elias fucking Vorn.

And if Kaia’s out there—still breathing, still fighting—then I owe it to her to fight too.

Not just to survive. To win.

Because if I can get her back…

If there’s even a chance I can fix the wreckage I made of us...

I’m gonna take it.

And the best way to start?

Is to stop lying to myself. To stop pretending I’m some broken, worthless thing just because it’s easier than fighting like hell to be better.

Caring hurts. Caring makes you vulnerable.

But it’s also the only goddamn reason to crawl out of the dirt at all.

So yeah.

I’m gonna start caring.

And caring means burning Ty and his whole fucking crew to the ground.

For Kaia.

For Tarek.

For me.

I think about my father for a moment, and all that he’s survived. If he can find a way to hold on, then I sure as hell can.

I lift my head from the filthy floor, eyes blazing gold in the darkness.

Let them come.

I’m done waiting.

I’m done hiding.