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JACE

T he scent hit him like a strike to the chest.

Blood. Magic. Her.

Jace tore through the veil of glamour shielding Ezra’s compound, paws pounding against the earth, fur bristling, eyes locked on the crumbling stone arch ahead. His wolf led the charge—silent, focused, ruthless.

Logan and the rest of the pack flanked him, moving as one.

But he only smelled her.

Only heard her heartbeat, ragged and pulsing like it was calling him home.

He didn’t slow. Didn’t think.

He slammed through the warped wooden doors with a snarl, splinters exploding into the air. The ancient compound trembled under the force, runes shattering across the walls as chaos magic pulsed like thunder inside the stone.

And there she was. Right in the heart of it. Standing like a storm.

Blood on her cheek. Wrists raw. Power crackling from her fingertips like wildfire.

She turned to him.

And even through the fire, even through the pain—she smiled.

“About time,” she breathed, her voice wobbly but still hers.

Jace shifted mid-run, claws turning to feet, fur to skin, teeth to words. He crossed the distance in two long strides.

“Lyra—” His voice broke on her name.

But she didn’t fall until he touched her.

The second his arms wrapped around her, the strength drained from her legs. Her body slumped against him, still radiating power that sparked against his skin.

“Hey, hey—no, no—” he murmured, catching her before she hit the ground. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes fluttered. “Told him… you’d come.”

“I’ll always come,” he said fiercely, pressing his forehead to hers.

Behind him, the pack flooded the chamber, weapons drawn and growls low. Logan threw a binding sigil toward one of Ezra’s men. Others shouted warnings, cleared rooms, broke wards.

But Ezra, he was gone.

Jace barely registered the shouted report from one of his sentries: “We lost him! He shadow-stepped—slipped through a gate rune on the lower floor!”

Coward.

It didn’t matter. Because Lyra was here. And she was alive.

But barely.

Her breath was shallow. Her magic was bleeding out of her, raw and uncontrolled. Jace wrapped her tighter in his arms, pulling her into his chest as if he could anchor her power with his own body.

Jace pressed his lips to her temple.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words thick with everything he’d left unsaid. “I should’ve told you sooner. Should’ve fought harder for us.”

Her breath hitched, barely there, but she was still conscious, barely holding on.

“I was scared,” he continued, voice cracking. “Scared of becoming what he was. Of failing you. Of losing you because I couldn’t protect what I claimed.”

She stirred slightly, lashes fluttering. Her voice, when it came, was weak but dry with humor.

“Took you long enough.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and groan all at once. “No more running. No more hiding. You’re mine, Lyra—and I’m yours. I’m done denying it. It’s not instinct. It’s not a burden. It’s us .”

Her smile tilted, tired and crooked. “’Bout damn time.”

Then her smile faded, eyes going glassy again. “Don’t… don’t vanish on me this time. I swear, if I wake up and you’re gone…”

“You won’t,” he said quickly, leaning in. “I’m right here. And I’ll be here when you wake. I promise.”

He brushed his hand along her cheek, slow and reverent, then shifted his body to gather her gently into his arms. She was light—too light—and bruised, battered, but still buzzing faintly with magic.

He was naked from the shift, not that he cared.

Jace turned to his pack, voice steady but cold.

“Search the compound. Top to bottom. Secure every artifact, scroll, weapon. Find any of Ezra’s people who didn’t run. And bring them to me.”

Logan nodded, already moving, issuing orders with clipped efficiency.

“I’ll debrief the council myself tomorrow,” Jace said.

He looked down at Lyra, her curls sticking to his chest, her magic still buzzing under her skin like it wasn’t ready to rest just yet.

“But tonight, I’m taking her home.”

And with that, he carried her through the crumbling ruins, through smoke and shadow, into the woods that still whispered with danger—straight toward the only place that would ever matter again.

Wherever she was.