Page 19 of The Syndicate’s Shadow Heiress (Branche de Lune Syndicate #1)

THE SPIRAL STIRS

Kali’s Emotional State: Unmoored. The ground beneath her power was shifting, and it wasn’t just Thorne. Something was bleeding through the veil. Something that wanted more than her magic. It wanted her.

K

ali didn’t sleep. She sat curled in the observatory, knees drawn to her chest, shadows slithering around her like wolves mourning something not yet dead.

Her pack surrounded her, every dog a sentinel at her feet.

Tiger paced slowly, growling at the walls like he sensed the magic shifting.

Spike curled beneath the chaise like a loaded weapon.

Nickel pressed close to Kali’s thigh, calm and unwavering.

Kota stood in the corner, a silent commander scanning for threats.

Megan nudged her ankle with soft whines, offering comfort she couldn’t speak.

And behind them, half-wreathed in smoke and void, stood Vaerkyn.

The Hellhound.

His eyes blazed ember red, taller than any of the others, fur dark as death itself.

Kali’s grandfather’s old companion, silent no longer.

He stood the way he used to in war rooms and planning chambers, right at the back of the throne, daring the world to try her.

He let out a low rumble, more quake than growl, acknowledging the others with a slow sweep of his head. They didn’t cower. They bowed .

Astraeus stirred at the sight. "He accepts them," the dragon murmured. "And that frightens me more than his teeth." A pause. Then quieter. He almost sounded reverent. "He does not bow to kings. And yet... he bows to her."

The Thread sigil pulsed on her collarbone, not pain, not heat. A summons. And through that pulsing glow, Thorne’s voice whispered like a prayer stitched in sin. “One more thread… and you’re mine.”

Kali’s breath caught as the energy in her chest rippled like a storm waiting to break. Her body felt taut, a war inside her brewing. The bond was tightening, her magic coiling with his influence—and she couldn’t escape it. Not anymore.

Astraeus coiled in her mind like a blade. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t know what he was,” she whispered.

“You felt it. And you let him in.”

“I’m not yours to command.”

“You are mine to protect. And you didn’t just open a door, Kali. You opened a vein.”

A flare of memory snapped through her—red threads, bare skin, Thorne’s mouth at her throat. Her magic stuttered. Shame. Longing. Hunger. And then—

Kali’s breath hitched. There it was again—the electric pressure building in her chest. The pull of it, deep inside her, growing sharper with each passing second.

Her magic buzzed in her veins like static.

The faintest flicker of tension, not just in the air, but in her skin.

The mark on her collarbone throbbed, almost painfully.

Her eyes darted to the door. Her pack shifted too, the air growing dense with anticipation. Tiger’s growl deepened. Spike’s ears flattened against his skull. Nickel shifted against her leg, a low warning rumble building in his throat.

The pressure built, rising like a storm. The room seemed to shrink. Every breath felt like it might be her last, like the universe was holding its breath with her.

And then, the door slammed open without warning.

Lev.

No shirt. No softness. Fury dripping from every line of him like grief soaked in gasoline. He didn’t speak—he looked. Took her in like a wound he couldn’t cauterize.

“What did he take from you?” he asked, voice low.

“Nothing.”

“You’re glowing.” Silence.

“Your scent has changed.” He stepped closer. “Your magic smells different.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he snapped. “Don’t act like I don’t feel him every time you breathe? ”

“I never said his name.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He was in front of her now. Close. Radiating heartbreak and heat.

“You let him mark you. You let him thread you. That isn’t nothing.”

“I didn’t let him,” she said, voice sharp. “He threadwalked into my mind. And Astraeus didn’t stop him.”

The dragon hissed, every word venomous. “I warned you. But you craved the thread anyway.”

“ENOUGH!” Kali’s voice ripped the room in half, thunder and rupture all in one.

Her body betrayed her—wrists locking, flare snapping through her shoulders like molten nails.

The room was too quiet. The shadows pressing in from every corner felt too tight, too alive. And then—she felt it—Lev was near.

Silence.

Lev slammed a file onto the table. Glyphs burned on the page, shifting as if alive. “Irina found more Spiral sigils,” he said. “In the sanctum. Behind elite warding.”

Kali’s stomach dropped. “Someone inside?”

“Someone close,” Lev confirmed .

Astraeus hissed. “They’re trying to open the Spiral Gate through you.”

Kali stood slowly. Her shadows flared. Her dogs shifted with her—alert, growling, ready. Even Vaerkyn took a single step forward, eyes glowing hotter than the fireplace.

“Then they’ve forgotten who they’re fucking with.”

Lev moved fast—hands braced on her hips, forehead to hers, raw magic leaking off his skin. “Promise me something,” he whispered.

“What?”

“If he comes to you again, kill him before he finishes the bond.”

Her breath stilled.

“Because if you don’t…” his voice cracked, “I don’t know what I’ll become.

” Kali’s breath stilled, and for a heartbeat, she couldn’t answer.

She should’ve felt guilt. She should’ve pushed him away—but the truth was—she couldn’t deny the raw, burning truth between them.

She needed him. And part of her didn’t want to let go of that.

He pulled back, barely.

“But I know what he will.”