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CALLUM

I don’t know if we’re still above ground.

Everything past the threshold feels like it’s swallowing light.

The tunnels wind deeper than any infrastructure map has ever shown. This isn’t some collapsed maintenance shaft or old bootlegging route. This was carved by something else . Something with claws—and a purpose.

And whatever that purpose was, it wasn’t meant for us. Not for humans. Not even for shifters. And definitely not for the girl beside me who just glows more with every step.

Kendall walks at the front of the group like the darkness parts for her. Her skin gleams faint gold, like moonlight sinking beneath water. Her jaw’s tight. Her eyes locked ahead. She doesn’t look scared.

But I can feel it in her pulse, in the way her scent keeps shifting.

She’s holding it together by instinct alone. And somehow, she’s still leading us. She’s not just surviving this. She’s commanding it.

And that terrifies me because I love her. And if this thing takes her—this pull in her blood, this ancient shit waking up in her bones—I won’t survive it.

I don’t say any of that.

Instead, I say, “You okay?”

She doesn’t stop walking. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. But it’s getting louder.”

“The voice?”

“No,” she says. “The pull. Like something’s waiting for me.”

Behind me, Ridge mutters something under his breath in old Nordic dialect. I catch a few words—mostly curses and prayers—and ignore him.

The passage narrows.

We all have to crouch.

Just as suddenly, it opens again into a circular cavern choked with moss-covered stone and stagnant air. The walls are smooth and dark, marked with sigils we’ve never seen before. Ones that move if you stare too long.

But it’s what’s blocking the far end that stops us all cold.

A ward .

It pulses like a heartbeat, like it’s breathing. A tangled mess of symbols etched in bone and obsidian, hovering mid-air. I can feel the curse radiating off of it—designed to gut anyone dumb enough to try pushing through.

Ridge swears. “That’s necrotech. I thought the Brood burned the last of that.”

“They did,” I say grimly. “Or we thought they did.”

One of the wolves—a wiry guy named Bran—edges forward. “We going through?”

“Not unless you want your soul turned inside out,” I mutter.

Kendall steps forward, expression unreadable. “Let me try.”

I reach out and catch her wrist. “Kendall?—”

“It’s calling me. It’s for me.”

“That’s what scares me.”

She meets my gaze. For a second, I see the fear in her too.

But then she leans closer, voice lower.

“You said you trusted me.”

I let go.

Slowly, she raises her hand. The ward hums. Low and dangerous. Like a beast waking in its den. And then it bends.

The symbols twist like smoke, shivering toward her. Not attacking. Not resisting. Recognizing.

Her fingertips brush the air just before the ward. It collapses quietly and cleanly. Like it never existed. Silence ripples through the group.

“What the fuck…” Bran whispers.

Ridge steps back, visibly shaken. “That’s not natural. ”

“She’s the Bolvi,” one of them breathes.

I turn, growling. “Shut it.”

But it’s out now. And they all know.

Kendall doesn’t flinch. She just walks through the space where the ward used to be. And we follow because what else can we do?

The corridor past the ward is wider. Smoother. Polished with time and something stranger.

We keep going until the path forks. Left smells like rot. Right smells like blood.

Kendall halts. “This way,” she says, pointing right.

But before we move there’s a whisper. Soft. Close. From within our group.

“...you should’ve turned back. She shouldn’t be here.”

I whip around.

It’s Bran.

He’s got something clutched in his hand. A charm. Almost exactly like the one the rogue we captured had.

The second I see it, I tackle him.

We crash into the wall, claws out, snarls loud. I pin him and rip the charm away. Kendall shouts something. The others pile in.

He struggles, fangs bared. “You idiots don’t get it! You’re following a curse ! That girl isn’t your savior—she’s the end of all of us!”

“You working with the Brood?” Ridge demands.

Bran laughs. “You think the Brood is the real threat? She’s worse. They know what she is. And they want to use her! She needs to die, along with her bloodli–”

I slam his head into the wall. He goes limp. The team’s dead quiet.

Kendall walks over, looking down at him.

“Callum… Thank you.”

I look at Bran’s blood spilling against the wall and out of his head. How did I not see that?

“You good?” she asks me, pulling me away from my own chastising.

“No,” I say honestly. “Not even close.”

She touches my arm—light, grounding.

“Then hold onto me.”

That one sentence undoes me more than anything else could.

We move again, faster now, because someone knows we’re here . Because betrayal always means backup is close.

We don’t stop again until we hit another split—this time into stairs.

Worn, ancient. Leading down .

Kendall hesitates. Her hand brushes mine as the others keep moving.

She keeps her eyes distant and just says, “What if I’m what he said?”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t care.”

She finally looks up. “You should.”

I take her face in my hands. “You think I’m scared of what’s in your blood? You think it changes what I feel about you?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Then let me prove you wrong.”

Her lips part.

I kiss her. Not hard. Not rushed. Just real.

She melts into me, just for a second. Just long enough for both of us to forget what’s waiting below.

When we break, her eyes are glassy. Her voice barely a whisper. Her look tells me she’s finally ready for this. For us and what it might mean. Whether it’s the fear or sudden realization of what might happen, I don’t care.

“Don’t let me go,” she whispers as she squeezes my hand still pressed against her cheek.

“Not a fucking chance.”