Page 26 of The Syndicate’s Shadow Heiress (Branche de Lune Syndicate #1)

THE STORM BEFORE THE CLAIM

Kali's Emotional State: Controlled chaos. Raw power crackling under skin. Bone-deep exhaustion tempered by defiance. She’s bleeding, burning, but finally ready to choose.

T

he air inside the old greenhouse behind the eastern stables was thick, static-drenched, velvet dark, pulsing with anticipation.

Rain pinged softly against the glass roof above them, mingling with the low growls of Kali’s dogs sprawled just beyond the cracked door.

Vaerkyn stood guard at the threshold, still as a statue, firelit eyes watching.

Kali paced barefoot across the stone floor, blood, hers and others’, still streaked down her arm from the last skirmish. Her coat lay discarded over a table of broken herb jars and shattered runes. Her shadows pulsed around her like a second skin, twitching at the seams of reality.

Lev leaned against the far wall, shirt gone, chest still marked from the Spiral fight. Watching her like prey, or maybe worship.

“You keep pacing like that,” he said, voice low and rough, “and I’m going to think you’re second-guessing me.”

Kali turned slowly. Eyes sharp, voice sharper. “I don’t second-guess. I weigh the damage. ”

A beat. Then she crossed the room in three slow steps, dragging the tension with her like a storm cloud.

“I’m not afraid of bonding with you,” she said. “I’m afraid of what it’ll do to me.”

Lev didn’t flinch. “It’ll make you stronger.”

“It’ll make me dependent.”

He moved closer. Close enough to smell the blood drying on her skin, the magic leaking off her body like heat.

“Not dependent,” he murmured. “Anchored.”

That cracked something open.

Kali surged forward and kissed him like fire devouring oxygen—urgent, punishing, hungry. His hands locked around her hips, and the magic between them crackled like live wire.

But the bond didn’t seal. Not yet. Not fully.

Because this wasn’t about fate, this was a choice.

Lev dropped to his knees. Right there on the cracked greenhouse stone. And worshipped her like a religion.

His mouth found her core, no hesitation, no mercy.

Tongue hot and certain, like he’d carved the path in a former life.

Kali’s breath hitched. The heat licked up her spine like truth unspoken.

Her knees buckled. It wasn’t just his mouth, it was the knowledge that she could shatter here and still rise.

And gods, she wanted to. Her hand slammed against the glass, fog blooming from her palm.

Her magic sparked under her skin like thunder trapped in bone.

She gasped. “Lev—”

“Mine,” he growled against her, voice reverent and filthy.

“Yours,” she choked. “But don’t be gentle.”

He wasn’t.

Her hips moved like war drums. Her shadows lashed. The dogs stirred restlessly outside but did not enter, trained, loyal, deadly if summoned.

And when Kali came, it wasn’t silence that followed. It was a scream sharp enough to pierce every ward around the estate.

But the bond didn’t seal. Not yet. Not until she let it.

She pulled Lev up by the jaw, her grip iron. Kissed him again—blood and teeth and heat. Then pushed him back.

Not rejection. Delay.

A single flicker of doubt pulsed beneath her ribs, quick, buried, brutal. Was she still hers if she let this happen? Could she carry this war with someone else's heart in her chest?

A flicker hit behind her eyes, not fear. Not love. Something more dangerous. The memory of what it meant to be hers alone, to be fire without fuel. She’d bled too much for that freedom to give it away without a fight.

“We’re not done,” she said. “But the bond? That happens when I decide it does. Not fate. Me. ”

Lev looked up at her with hunger and restraint in equal measure. “I’ll wait,” he rasped.

“No,” she whispered, softer now. “You’ll burn.”

Then she collapsed beside him on the floor, one hand tangled in his hair, the other resting on his heartbeat.

Vaerkyn let out a low rumble from the door.

The dogs didn’t bark.

But the storm outside? It raged.

And Kali, still slick with shadow and defiance, smiled into the dark.

The war had felt it.

And it was coming for them next.

Back In The War Room

Kali stepped into the dimly lit room. The shadows followed her like a cloak, flickering under the soft glow of a single candle that Irina had left burning on the table.

Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of what had just happened in the greenhouse, raw, untethered, but somehow alive in a way that made her feel more human than she had in years.

She exhaled deeply, her chest tight as she moved toward Irina, who was sitting with her back to the door, writing something in a small notebook. The soft scratch of the pen against the paper was the only sound in the room .

Irina looked up as Kali entered, her silver eyes immediately catching the tension in Kali’s stance. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Irina said, her voice gentle but knowing.

Kali paused, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I hadn’t known better, I’d say I’ve become one,” she muttered, sinking down into the chair beside Irina. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

Irina raised an eyebrow, setting the notebook aside. “Like what?”

Kali let her gaze flicker down to her hands, still shaking slightly despite her attempt to steady them.

She wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, especially not in front of someone who had seen so many sides of her.

“I don’t... know. It was too much.” She looked up at Irina, her mouth twisted in a mix of disbelief and something darker.

“I was fine. And then it was like—like the whole damn world cracked open, and I couldn’t close it back up. ”

Irina leaned forward slightly, watching her closely, her expression softening. “You think you shouldn’t have done it?”

Kali shook her head, but it wasn’t in denial.

It was frustration. “No, I didn’t say that.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what it means.

” She sighed, letting her hands drop to her lap.

“I’m not afraid of being touched, but...

that?” Her voice caught on the last word, and for a moment, her walls cracked open just enough for Irina to see it.

Fear. Vulnerability. “I don’t want to lose myself to this. To him.”

Irina nodded slowly, her gaze understanding. “You won’t. ”

Kali didn’t look at her, instead staring into the candle flame. “What if I do?”

Silence hung between them for a moment. Then Irina reached out, placing a hand gently over Kali’s.

“If you do, I’ll remind you who you are,” she said softly.

“But that’s not going to happen. You’re too strong to lose yourself.

” Her thumb brushed over Kali’s knuckles, reassuring in its warmth.

“But you’re human, Kali. You’re allowed to feel, it doesn’t make you weaker.

It doesn’t mean you’re losing control. It just means. .. you’re real.”

Kali let the words wash over her, even though the storm inside her wasn’t quieting. “I don’t know who I am without my control.”

“You’ve always been more than your control,” Irina replied, her voice steady. “And you’re still Kali. No matter what happened in there.”

Kali’s lips tugged upward slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a smile. She had built her whole life around not letting anyone see this side of her, the one that needed and wanted and felt. But Irina had always known her better than anyone. The only person she didn’t have to be a queen for.

“I feel like I’ve crossed a line,” Kali whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “And once it’s crossed, there’s no going back.”

Irina squeezed her hand once, a small act of solidarity. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe you weren’t supposed to go back.”

Kali’s chest tightened, the weight of those words settling into her bones. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this. ”

Irina smiled softly. “You don’t have to know. You just have to choose.”

Kali finally met Irina’s eyes, the weight of the last few hours settling into her thoughts. She would choose. She would always choose.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

Irina just nodded, her eyes warm and steady. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Kali stood slowly, feeling the last remnants of the storm inside her swirling down, replaced by something new, something solid. “Let’s get to work,” she said, a fire already igniting inside her again. “The war’s not over, and I’m not waiting for it to come to me.”

Irina rose with her, no more words needed. The world was burning, but Kali was going to make sure she was the one who set the match.

As they moved toward the door, Irina gave her a sly smirk, her sharp eyes never leaving Kali.

"You know, I’ve never met anyone quite like you," she quipped, voice light but edged with that familiar bite. "One minute you’re a fucking hurricane, and the next, you’re hugging yourself with a glass of whiskey. Talk about emotional whiplash."

Kali couldn’t help the small, wry smirk that tugged at her lips. “You make it sound so glamorous.”

Irina’s grin grew wider, playful. "I try." She stepped forward with a teasing glint in her eyes. "And just so you know, I’m totally expecting a dramatic monologue before you go into battle. Make sure it’s at least 20 minutes long, okay?"

Kali rolled her eyes. "You’re insufferable."

"But you love me for it," Irina shot back, giving her a wink before turning toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kali followed her out, the weight of the upcoming battle settling back in her chest. But for the first time in a while, it felt like she wasn’t carrying it alone.