Page 22 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

“The Storm Eagles are destined to rule!” he shouts, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Our dominion was promised! If alliance with lesser beings serves that end, so be it!”

“Lesser beings?” Elder Tempest repeats, her brow furrowing. “You speak of domination over others while plotting alliance with Dire Wolves? This contradicts everything you’ve claimed to stand for.”

“I stand for Storm Eagle supremacy!” Viktor’s control slips further, his eyes wild. “Something our fallen leader forgot!”

I feel a subtle change in the air—a building pressure familiar to any Storm Eagle. Viktor’s emotions are affecting his control over his magic. Despite the chamber’s dampening properties, energy begins to gather around him.

“Putting the broader political machinations aside, the overarching problem is that the healer speaks true,” Commander Gale says, rising from his seat.

“Our youngest members show increasingly unstable storm affinities. Three hatchlings this season cannot fully manifest wings. This is the real threat we face.”

Others begin to nod, the reality they’ve long denied finally being acknowledged openly.

Viktor sees his support crumbling. With a cry of rage, he summons a bolt of lightning—a feat that should be impossible inside the council chamber. The bolt strikes the center of the stone table, shattering it and sending elders diving for cover.

“Guards!” Viktor shouts. “Secure the prisoners!”

But the guards hesitate, uncertain where their loyalties should lie as chaos erupts.

I seize the moment, bracing myself against the nearest warrior and snapping the bindings around my wrists.

The fibers, designed to resist normal storm magic, give way before the enhanced power flowing through me since Elena’s healing.

Across the chamber, Elena takes advantage of the confusion to twist free from her distracted captors. Our eyes meet briefly—a silent communication that needs no words. We move simultaneously toward each other as Viktor summons another lightning bolt, this one aimed directly at me.

I dodge, feeling the heat of it singe my hair as it passes. The bolt strikes the wall behind me, dislodging ancient stones that crash to the floor. Council members scramble for safety as Viktor unleashes his fury, all pretense of control abandoned.

“You’ve ruined everything!” he screams, gathering storm energy in both hands. “The prophecy was mine to fulfill!”

“The prophecy was never about domination,” I reply, circling closer to Elena. “It was about balance.”

Viktor laughs, the sound bordering on hysteria. “Balance? There is no balance between superior and inferior beings!”

Elena reaches my side, her hands glowing faintly with silver-blue light. “There is no superior or inferior,” she says calmly. “Only different. Different abilities, different strengths, different perspectives.”

“Heresy!” Viktor hurls another bolt, this one aimed at Elena.

I move instinctively, placing myself between them and raising my hand. Instead of dodging, I catch the lightning—something I’ve never attempted before. The energy flows into me, painful but controllable, like grasping a living thing that struggles to escape.

The chamber falls silent, all eyes fixed on the impossible sight of captured lightning swirling around my arm. Even Viktor stares in shock.

“This is what she gave me,” I say quietly, the light illuminating the faces of the council members. “Not corruption. Understanding. Control. Evolution.”

Elena’s hand touches my shoulder, and the energy stabilizes further, the painful burn transforming into a steady warmth.

“This is what happens when storm meets earth,” she explains to the stunned council. “Not dominance. Partnership. Amplification of both powers.”

Viktor backs away, his face contorted with rage and fear. “Abomination,” he whispers. “You’ve become an abomination.”

“I’ve become what the prophecy truly described,” I counter. “Not a conqueror, but a bridge.”

The standoff stretches, tension building. Then Elder Talon steps forward, his ancient eyes studying us with new interest.

“The old texts speak of such unions,” he says slowly. “Storm and silver, sky and earth. We dismissed them as a metaphor.”

“They were history,” Zara adds, moving to stand beside us. “History your generation chose to forget.”

Viktor sees the tide turning against him. With a snarl of fury, he gathers the last of his power, preparing for a desperate final attack. “If I cannot lead, then none shall! The clan will die pure rather than live contaminated!”

The lightning he summons is wild, unstable—meant not for a single target but to bring down the chamber itself. Cracks appear in the ancient ceiling as the stone groans under magical assault.

“He’ll collapse the aerie!” Commander Gale shouts, moving to evacuate the elders.

I reach for Elena’s hand, feeling our powers synchronize instantly.

Together, we extend our free hands toward the ceiling, combining storm control and healing energy to stabilize the fracturing stone.

Blue-silver light spreads across the ceiling like liquid, sealing cracks and neutralizing Viktor’s destructive magic.

Viktor stares in disbelief as his attack dissipates harmlessly. “Impossible,” he gasps.

“Not impossible,” I reply. “Just new.”

Guards finally move to restrain Viktor, emboldened by the clear demonstration of power. He struggles briefly before slumping in defeat, his eyes burning with hatred.

Elder Talon approaches us cautiously, studying the fading glow of our combined magic. “The council must deliberate on these revelations,” he says formally. “Until then, both prisoners will remain under guard—but with proper quarters, not cells.”

It’s not freedom, but it’s progress. I nod acceptance, keeping Elena’s hand firmly in mine.

“And Viktor?” I ask.

“We cannot risk further destabilization of the clan with yet another interim leadership change, but we will investigate his actions in light of today’s events,” Elder Talon assures me. “Particularly this alliance with the Dire Wolves, which threatens our entire clan.”

As guards lead us from the chamber—more respectfully now—I feel Elena’s fingers squeeze mine. Despite everything, a small smile touches her lips.

“Bridge, not conqueror,” she whispers. “I like that interpretation better.”

“So do I,” I reply, realizing how truly I mean it. “So do I.”