Page 44

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SERA

T he fire has died. The embers flicker weakly, barely a whisper of warmth against the cold stone floor. The scent of last night lingers—smoke, sweat, skin. Him.

Veylan is still here.

I don’t expect it. But now, as the first rays of morning cut through the wooden slats of our mountain hideout, he is beside me.

His body is all sharp edges and unforgiving power, but there’s a heaviness to his breathing, an exhaustion I’ve never seen in him before. His silver hair is tousled, spilling over the pillow, dark lashes resting against sharp cheekbones. He looks almost human. Almost.

Something inside me shifts, an unfamiliar ache curling in my insides. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him to stay. But I do.

I shift beneath the blankets, reaching—just barely—when his words cuts through the silence.

"Don’t."

It’s a warning. It always is with him.

His silver eyes slit open, locking onto me. The softness of sleep is gone in an instant, replaced with something unreadable, something sharp. Regret? No. I don’t think he regrets last night. He regrets what it means.

My throat tightens, and I grip sheets as if it will help me hold onto what remains of myself after last night.

"Are you going to leave?" The words slip out instinctively.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. The Dreadlord does not hesitate. But right now, he does.

"No," he says finally.

It’s the truth. And somehow, that terrifies me more than a lie.

I don’t get a chance to ask him why.

The moment shatters too fast, reality crashing into us like a blade to the throat.

A sound—soft, too soft. The crunch of a boot outside.

Veylan is already moving. A predator scenting blood.

My pulse kicks against my ribs as I grab my dagger from the bedside. The air shifts, thickening.

Then there’s a blur of movement.

The door explodes into smitheerens.

A dark figure lunges into the room, blade flashing. Veylan meets him before I can even scream.

Steel clashes. The room is too small, too confined, and I barely roll away in time as a dagger slams into the mattress where I just lay.

The spy is fast. Not fast enough.

Veylan drives him back, a vicious dance of metal and fury. A snarl tears from his lips. The spy stumbles—a fraction of a second’s mistake. But that’s all Veylan needs.

One twist. One snap.

The man crumples to the floor. Dead.

I don’t even have time to catch my breath before Veylan grabs me.

"Get up. Get dressed. Now."

The steel in his voice leaves no room for argument.

We don’t waste a second.

I dress quickly, lacing my boots with shaking hands. Veylan is already strapping his sword to his back, his movements too precise. Too controlled.

That’s how I know we’re in trouble.

"Who was he?" I ask, pulling my cloak tight around me.

"House Velkiron," Veylan says darkly. "A scout."

My stomach twists.

"That means ? —"

"They’re already coming. Not just my father."

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. Bounty hunters and scouts. They tracked us faster than expected.

I swallow hard. We need to run. We need to move now.

But Veylan isn’t moving.

He is standing still.

Staring at the dead body. At the blood pooling into the cracks of the wooden floor.

His hands clench.

"Veylan," I try. "We have to?—"

"No."

The finality in his voice makes my breath hitch.

"What?"

He turns to me slowly, his silver eyes dark with something I don’t understand.

"We don’t run," he says, voice low, deadly.

My throat goes dry.

"Veylan—"

"No more hiding. No more waiting. This ends now."

He is not talking about the bounty hunters.

He is talking about Hazeran.

I take a step back. He sees it. He sees everything.

His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine. "You don’t understand yet, do you?"

I shake my head, my breath coming too fast. "We don’t have an army. We don’t have a plan. We barely have?—"

"Then we get an army."

His voice brooks no argument.

"We go back to House Drazharel. We take my brothers. We take what we need. And we burn my father to the ground."

Madness. It’s madness.

But I believe him.

A shiver races down my spine.

"Veylan, if you go back?—"

"He will expect it. He wants me to come back." His lips curl, something dark bleeding into his voice. "And that is his mistake. It’s time, Sera. I’ve made my choice."

I stare at him. At the sharp lines of his face, the silver fire in his eyes. He gazes back at me, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

He has already decided and it’s final.

Veylan Drazharel is done being prey.

"We will burn it all," he murmurs.

My pulse pounds in my throat. "And if we don’t make it out?"

His gaze softens. "Then we go together."

The words steal the breath from my lungs.

Not captor and captive. Not enemies.

Partners.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until his hand cups my jaw.

"Are you afraid?"

I let out a breath.

"No."

That is the truth.

"Do you trust me?" Veylan asks.

"No," I repeat.

He smirks. Approving. "Good."

Trust doesn’t matter anymore.

Only survival.