Page 44 of The Syndicate’s Shadow Heiress (Branche de Lune Syndicate #1)

THE GATE SMILES

Kali’s Emotional State: Not fully conscious, but her magic is. Her flare has peaked, her thread ritual nearly killed her, and her battle in the astral ripped her soul wide open. She’s down… but not gone. And the Hollow Gate knows it. Because when a Keeper falls, the Gate doesn’t weep. It smiles.

T

hunder wasn’t supposed to come from a clear sky. But when Azareal and Belladonna breached the outer wards of the Branche de Lune Estate, the Hollow Gate cracked a grin, and the storm answered. The first explosion came from the south field. The second? Bentley.

The enormous Clydesdale screamed, a bone-deep sound that shook the barn walls and shattered the enchanted fence line.

His hooves struck the earth with such fury that the sigils buried beneath the pasture ignited in violet flame.

The other nine horses moved like phantoms behind him.

Silent. Ready. Rescued war beasts, all of them, former plowbacks and meat-sale survivors turned sentinels of their Sovereign.

Earlier, when Kali collapsed after the astral flare, Irina had made the call. “Get her to the barn,” she said. “She needs to be near her horses and dogs if she’s going to stand a chance of healing.”

They brought her here, barely breathing, wrapped in starlight and sweat.

Solen had vanished during the chaos, drawn away by the Gate’s surge, or by something darker, but Thorne arrived not long after, silent as midnight.

He stepped into the healing circle without a word, hands already weaving the threads of her unraveling magic.

Inside the healing circle, Thorne hadn’t moved.

His jaw was clenched. Sweat beaded at his temples.

Between Kali’s legs, the thread weave was glowing, holding her body together with heat and magic, desire and defiance.

But it wasn’t holding her. It was barely remembering how.

The flare beneath her skin wasn’t stabilizing, it was rewriting.

But it was unraveling now, responding to the presence of something darker than shadow.

Belladonna, standing at the edge of the pasture with Bentley’s lead wrapped in her clawed hand, smiled.

"Such a pretty creature,” she cooed. “It’ll fetch a high price in the underground."

Kali didn’t open her eyes. But her shadows did. They rose. Slow. Lethal. Hungry.

The vampires around Belladonna began to hiss, some stepping back, sensing the wrongness in the air. Because the earth beneath their feet wasn’t just trembling, it was warning.

A gust tore through the barn doors, sending hay flying in every direction. The scent of ash, blood, and broken prophecy filled the air. Irina stood at Kali’s back, one arm around her chest, the other clutching a blade made from celestial bone. Her eyes glowed molten blue.

“She told you to stay the fuck away from her horses,” Irina said calmly .

Belladonna smirked. “And yet here I am.”

That was her mistake.

Because Kali’s body arched like lightning struck her spine.

She wasn’t fully awake. But her soul was already marching to war.

"Unhand my horse," she growled, voice ragged but rippling with ancient command, “you crazy, fanged, flea-ridden bitch.”

BOOM.

The Hollow Gate pulsed.

Bentley tore free of the lead, eyes glowing white-hot. He didn’t run. He charged.

Belladonna screamed as the other horses closed in behind him, forming a protective phalanx. Magic arced from their hooves like thunderbolts.

A flicker of memory….Bentley’s heartbeat beneath her palms, the Gate’s breath in her bones. She wasn’t conscious, but she wasn’t gone.

And then, Kali rose. Not steady. Not whole. But the kind of rise that makes even gods pause.

Blood soaked her thighs. The thread tattoo on her shoulder blazed. Her flare had scorched her veins violet .

Thorne stepped back, his hands coated in her magic. “She’s not tethered,” he warned. “She’s riding pure instinct.”

And Kali’s instinct? Kill everything that touched what she loved.

Azareal stepped forward, mouth curling into a dark grin. “Finally,” he said. “Show me what the Gate looks like when it smiles.”

Kali didn’t speak.

She raised her hand. The ground split.

A mouth of shadow and flame erupted beneath Azareal’s vanguard, swallowing six vampires whole in one searing blink.

The horses didn’t flinch. Bentley stood tall, his body blocking Kali’s left side.

Irina moved in tandem with Thorne, one slicing through air with blade and ward, the other anchoring Kali's magic to the circle.

Lev landed beside Kali, blood on his knuckles, murder in his eyes. “You with me?” Her eyes glowed black.

“I am the Gate,” she whispered. “And I’m done smiling.”