Page 17

Kassira

S omething’s wrong with Draven.

I knew it last night, when we came back to our room. He didn’t kiss me. Didn’t touch me. His answers were short, clipped. Cold in a way they never were before. When I asked what was wrong, he just muttered that he was tired. Needed sleep.

So I let him.

Now, watching him get dressed for Alpha Parrin’s funeral, a slow, icy dread slides down my spine, twisting tighter with every second.

I don’t remember anything strange at the dinner. No one acting suspicious. Even Amira kept her distance — glaring daggers, sure, but not approaching. And yet... my instincts are screaming.

Something’s wrong.

“Draven,” I whisper, my fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against my thigh. “Are you alright?”

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face like he’s exhausted and I’m being unreasonable. “Why do you keep asking me that, Kassira? I’m fine. Just... on edge.”

When he speaks next, every word feels like a claw slicing my skin.

“How can you expect to stand by my side if you panic at every little thing?” he says, voice flat. Measured. Brutal. “You need to train. Get stronger. This isn’t just about us. You’re supposed to be the Luna of all shifters. And right now... I’m sorry to say it, Kassira, but you’re lacking.”

The words slam into me so hard I actually stagger a step back.

Pain flares inside my chest. My breath catches.

He would never — He would never say that.

“ Kass, ” Neris whines inside my head, ears flattened. “ Look at his eyes. Please. Look closer. ”

I force myself to meet his gaze fully. And it’s like falling through ice.

Cold. Distant. Unreachable. No warmth. No light. Like staring into a hollowed-out shell, wearing Draven’s face.

Terror claws up my throat. I swallow it down, forcing my voice steady.

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

But inside me, a storm is raging.

I don’t know how or when exactly it happened, but he’s gone.

The storm settles with just one thought.

I’ll fight. I will tear the world apart if I have to. I’ll bring him back. No matter what.

Alpha Parrin’s funeral is set exactly as tradition demands.

His body is wrapped in a golden shroud, laid atop a slab of earth adorned with green leaves and wildflowers. A small clearing in the heart of the forest has been chosen — open to the sky, sacred under the eyes of the Goddess.

All of Mirenwulf stands in silence, a sea of bowed heads and heavy hearts, waiting for the final moment.

When the Pack Priestess gives the signal, every shifter present will call upon the sliver of magic inside them and channel it through the King — Draven — into Alpha Parrin’s body. The shroud, the slab, his earthly remains — all of it will turn to dust and return to the soil.

From that sacred ash, something will grow. A tree. A flower. Whatever plant his soul chooses, depending on the power he carried in life.

It’s one of our most sacred rites.

We are creatures of duality — both human and beast — bound together by the Spark the Moon Goddess gifted us long ago. But centuries past, the Goddess of Creation also touched our kind. She gave us a small piece of her own magic, weaving it through our blood and souls.

It’s not much. A whisper of power. But it changed everything.

Before her gift, the two sides of a shifter — human and beast — waged endless war within a single body.

Especially if the shifter was a strong one.

Years spent fighting until one side crushed the other.

Dominated. Now, we are born balanced. The magic settled the war inside us before it could even begin.

That’s why our births are dedicated to the Moon Goddess, our deaths to the Goddess of Creation — and the fragile, precious thread stretched between those two moments — our lives — belongs to us alone. Ours to fight for. Ours to lose. Ours to claim.

Draven suddenly stops walking, and I stop beside him.

He looks at me — no, through me — like I’m nothing more than a shadow. When he speaks, his voice is completely detached. Distant.

"You should stand back," he says. "You don’t hold an official title. It would be disrespectful to Amira, given our history, if you stood by my side. I have to stand with the family."

Something in me cracks wide open. I know it’s the magic speaking. I know. But my soul doesn't understand logic. My soul only feels the rejection.

Neris whimpers and retreats, curling up in a dark corner of my mind.

I manage a nod. Mechanical. Robotic. Because if I open my mouth, I’ll fall apart.

I have to stay standing. I have to find a way to bring him back. Soon. Because if I don't, I’ll die from a broken heart before the witch makes him kill me himself.

He doesn’t look back. Just turns and walks toward Amira.

And I’m left behind, all alone, to deal with the pain howling inside my chest.

When his arm slides around Amira’s shoulders — casual, familiar — it’s like being stabbed a million times over. And when he leans in and whispers something close to her ear, and I watch her face brighten, her lips lifting into a soft smile like they’re sharing a secret... It feels like dying.

I’m thrown back to all those months ago when I watched them together, looking like they were the perfect couple. Like she was born to be by his side.

Did we ever look like that? Did we ever look like we belonged together?

I'm trapped in my own spiraling thoughts when Sin suddenly steps into my line of vision, blocking the sight of Draven and Amira.

His eyes — usually so full of mischief — are wrecked with emotion.

“He feels wrong,” he whispers, voice raw. “Did we lose him?”

I suck in a shaky breath, but the words won’t come. So I just nod. Barely, but he sees it.

Sin’s lips press into a hard, thin line. His whole face twists with something close to dread.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Then he straightens, shoulders squaring like he’s preparing for battle.

“Don’t worry, Kass. We’ll fix this. Somehow.”

He shifts closer, standing guard at my side.

And when I start trembling — when the sight of Draven still holding Amira almost breaks me all over again — Sin reaches for my hand. He squeezes gently. Just for a second.

But it’s enough. Enough to drag me out of the pit. Enough to make me claw my strength back, splinter by splinter, until I can breathe again.

Because if Draven can’t fight for us right now... Then I’ll fight for both of us.

After the funeral ends, the crowd starts drifting back toward the packhouse, slow and heavy with grief.

I stay rooted in place, heart trapped in my throat. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

Draven moves toward me with measured steps. His face is carved from stone. When he motions for Amira to follow him, my knees nearly buckle.

“Be strong,” Sin murmurs beside me, low enough that only I can hear.

I grit my teeth and force myself to stand still, even as I feel another piece of my soul being ripped apart.

When Draven stops in front of us, his voice is empty. Cold.

“You’re dismissed, Beta.”

Sin just flashes a cocky smile, like he didn’t hear the command at all.

“No can do, Your Majesty. You told me to stay by the Luna’s side. Even if you ’re the one trying to chase me away.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “We really should look into that memory of yours. It’s worrying, how often you forget.”

Something flickers in Draven’s eyes — anger, irritation, I can’t tell — it’s gone before I can be sure.

“Kassira isn’t your Luna yet,” he snaps. His gaze sweeps the people around us. He sighs, as if we’re an inconvenience and he has no time for this. “Fine. Stay. I won’t have to repeat myself later.”

Then he turns to me. And the moment his hollow, lifeless eyes meet mine, I’m back in that ballroom. Back to the night he rejected me. Back to the pain.

“I’m bringing Amira back to the palace,” he says, each word a dagger.

“I hope you won’t throw a fit about it. It won’t go well for you if you do.

It was a mistake to release her from her duties.

She was invaluable to me before. And now, after her father’s death, she needs something to focus on.

Something to help her heal. Understood?”

Every part of me cracks. But I don’t let it show. I nod, because the words won’t come. They’re strangled by the grief swelling inside my chest.

“Thank you, Ven. You always knew what I needed,” Amira says sweetly, slipping her hand into his.

He doesn’t pull away. He just turns — leading her toward the packhouse — and leaves me standing here.

Sin’s growl rumbles beside me, low and menacing.

“That bitch. She’s definitely involved. I’ll fucking kill her.”

“No,” I croak, my voice barely more than air. “We can’t. Not yet. Not until we find the witch and break the leash. Amira is protected by Draven right now. He would kill you before you even laid a hand on her.”

Sin curses under his breath, fists clenching at his sides, as we watch Draven and Amira disappear into the crowd.

Draven left with Amira right after the funeral. He took her to the palace in his carriage. Not a word to me. Not even a glance.

If Sin hadn’t stayed glued to my side through it all, I don’t know if I’d still be standing.

Neris keeps swinging from rage to despair. One second she’s snarling to tear someone apart, the next she’s curled up sobbing in a corner of my mind. I’m not much better. The bond hurts — it’s messing with our minds.

I sit frozen on the edge of the bed in my room at the palace, feet dangling just above the floor.

Sin left me here, made me lock the door behind him, gave me a secret knock to know it’s him when he comes back. He said he needed to check something. See if there’s anything we can still do.

We had to come back. The Royal Library is the only place that might hold the answers. I barely even scratched the surface before everything started unraveling.

But my hope is slowly seeping away. We don’t have much time left.

That’s where I am — drowning in those thoughts — when it hits.

A sharp, searing pain knifes through my chest, so brutal and sudden it rips the air from my lungs. It spreads like fire under my skin, wild and vicious, eating me alive from the inside out.

I know this pain. I know it too well. I lived with it for six months.

The bond — it feels betrayed again.

Tears break loose, hot and endless, pouring down my face in silent, gasping waves.

“Kass, I’m here,” Neris whispers, her voice cracked and small. She wraps herself around my mind, trying to shield me from it. It’s no use. Nothing can shield me from this. Nothing can protect us both.

I’m moving before I even realize it. Dragging myself through the hallways, hand scraping the walls for support, chest heaving like I’m trudging through thick smoke.

It’s not enough. No breath is enough. I can’t stop. I have to find him.

People stare — wide-eyed, whispering.

I don’t look at them. I don’t see anything except the next step forward. And the next. And the next.

The moment I shove open the door to Draven’s office, I stumble to a stop, clutching my chest like it might split open.

He’s kissing her.

Not just a brush of lips. Not just a mistake.

He’s holding her. Tight. Like she’s a treasure he’s afraid to lose.

And the worst part — he knows I’m here. He heard the door. But he doesn’t stop.

I watch, frozen, as if trapped inside the worst nightmare of my life. Every second that passes shreds another piece of me.

She’s moving faster than I thought. I’m already too late.

"Draven," I hear myself whisper. It's broken. Raw. The sound bleeds like a deep, open wound.

Finally — finally — he pulls back. Presses one last casual kiss to her lips, like she’s his everything, then he turns his head and looks at me.

"Kassira," he sighs, almost like he's tired. "I was hoping you wouldn’t find out this way."

Amira’s voice cuts the air, a cruel glint travelling through the sound. "You shouldn’t barge into the king’s office without permission," she says, her tone dripping with smugness. "You don’t have a real rank. You need to be announced first. Then the king decides if he even wants to see you."

I don't look at her. She doesn’t matter.

It’s Draven I can’t take my eyes off.

"What are you doing, Draven?" I whisper, barely able to hear myself over the roaring in my ears.

No flicker of doubt in his expression. No flash of warmth. Only that hollow, lifeless void that’s been growing more and more since the funeral.

He straightens, and I know he’s about to completely destroy me.

"I’m choosing a Queen," he says, voice so sharp it could cut diamonds. "Mate or not, Kassira, the truth is you were never strong enough to stand beside me. I was confused for a while — tricked by the bond — but seeing Amira again..."

He trails off and then smiles. Smiles . "...it made me realize the mistake I almost made. I can’t have a Luna who’s weak. Who falters. Amira was always the rightful choice. And the best part? With her... it’s real. There was no bond to force me. No magic. I fell in love with her by my own choice."

Lies. The bond doesn’t force love.

I want to spit the truth in his face, scream it loud enough to shatter the windows — but my throat locks up. My whole body trembles, helpless against the weight of the pain crashing down inside me.

I know it isn’t really him. I know it’s the magic twisting his mind, his heart.

But that doesn't stop the words from carving through me. Because it's still his voice. His mouth shaping them. And they burn straight through the bond and into my soul.

"You'll stay at the palace, of course," Draven says, his tone completely detached. Like I’m nothing to him. Just an inconvenience he’s been forced to manage.

"It’s unfortunate I’m bonded to a shifter like you," he continues, ignoring the way I’m breaking apart like glass, "but I’ve accepted it. I can’t risk my hellhound going feral because of the bond."

"Amira agrees," he adds, almost casually. "She understands that duty comes before personal feelings. You’ll be my mistress. Nothing more. You’ll be there to satisfy the hellhound when needed. It’s more than a shifter of your... station could have ever dreamed of."

The blade of his words twists deep, straight through my heart.

I want to scream. I want to slap him so hard he wakes up from this nightmare. I want to tear him away from her, from this madness, from the magic that's rotting him from the inside out.

But I can't.

All I can do is stand there.

Silent. Shaking.

Listening to the sound of my soul dying.