Page 24 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

KAEL

L ightning surges through my veins as I focus on the ropes binding my wrists.

I’ve been working on them for hours, channeling minute currents of storm energy into the fibers.

Not enough to create visible light that would alert the guards, but enough to gradually weaken the enchanted hemp.

The cell they’ve placed me in is designed to dampen magic, but something has changed since Elena’s healing in the canyon.

My powers respond differently now—more focused, more controlled.

And far more difficult to contain.

I close my eyes, picturing Elena standing before the tribunal.

Her courage as she faced Viktor’s accusations stirred something primal in me.

The mate bond, incomplete as it is, has grown stronger through our separation.

I can feel her presence in the aerie like a beacon of silver-blue light amidst the darkness of Viktor’s hatred.

Outside my cell, thunder rumbles across the mountain peaks. The storm building around the aerie isn’t natural—it’s responding to my emotions, to our combined energies. I’ve never experienced weather patterns reacting this way before, not even during my most intense battles.

Another strand of the binding snaps beneath my concentrated power. Almost there.

“Brother.” The whispered word comes from the narrow window slit near the ceiling of my cell.

I glance up to see Zara’s face, half-hidden in shadow. She shouldn’t be here—Viktor’s guards patrol these corridors regularly, and anyone caught helping me faces the same death sentence.

“The council is in chaos,” she whispers. “Elena’s words have divided them. The younger members are questioning Viktor, especially after she revealed the genetic weakening.”

“Is she OK?” My voice sounds rough, even to my own ears.

“Yes, but Viktor has scheduled her execution for dawn.” Zara’s eyes, so like our mother’s, fill with concern. “He fears what she knows, what she might reveal to others. He’s rushing the judgment before more Eagles can hear her speak.”

Dawn. Only hours away. “How many stand with him?”

“Perhaps half the council. The traditionalists mostly, but some are wavering. The genetic evidence is… compelling.” She glances nervously over her shoulder. “I’ve gathered those loyal to you near the eastern platforms. They’re prepared to fight if necessary.”

I work the bindings more frantically now. “No civil war, Zara. Not if we can avoid it.”

“You may not have a choice. Viktor has sent messengers to the Dire Wolf alliance. They’ll arrive by midday tomorrow to witness his ‘triumph’ over ground-dweller contamination.” Her voice hardens. “He’s using Elena’s execution as political theater to cement his alliance.”

The last strands of the binding begin to give way. “What of her powers? Has she shown any signs of?—”

“Yes.” Zara’s eyes widen. “When they threatened you during the tribunal, her hands glowed. Everyone saw it. And you…” She hesitates.

“Lightning danced across your bindings, though you were rooms away. The elders are disturbed by this connection. Some call it an abomination, but others remember the old stories—about storm and silver, sky and earth joining.”

The final strand breaks. I flex my hands, feeling power surge freely through them now. “Get to the eastern platforms. Keep our allies ready but tell them not to move until they see my signal.”

“And what will that be?”

I smile grimly. “Trust me, sister. You’ll know it when you see it.”

She disappears from the window, and I rise to my feet, assessing my options. The cell door is reinforced with storm-resistant metals, but the lock mechanism itself contains iron components. Iron conducts electricity quite effectively.

I place my palm against the lock, channeling a focused charge through the metal. The current travels precisely where I direct it, a level of control I never possessed before Elena’s healing. The lock mechanism heats, expands, and finally cracks.

The door swings open silently. The corridor beyond is empty—a stroke of luck I hadn’t counted on. Most of the clan must be gathered elsewhere, perhaps still debating Elena’s revelations or preparing for tomorrow’s execution.

I move silently through familiar passages, keeping to the shadows.

This aerie has been my home for thirty-two years.

I know every hidden path, every secret corridor carved by ancestors who understood the value of discretion.

Viktor may have claimed leadership, but he doesn’t know all the Storm Eagle secrets.

Voices echo from around the corner—guards discussing watch rotations. I press myself into a shadowed alcove as they pass.

“—says the ground-dweller actually made sense,” one whispers. “My cousin’s daughter hasn’t developed wings properly. Third one this year.”

“Silence,” the other hisses. “Talk like that will get you executed alongside the prisoners.”

Their footsteps fade, and I continue my careful progress toward the central chambers where prisoners awaiting execution are traditionally held. The route takes me past the great hall, where angry voices rise in heated debate. I pause, listening.

“—cannot ignore the evidence!” Commander Gale’s voice rises above the others. “The genetic markers don’t lie. Three children born this season with malformed wings, five more who cannot call lightning!”

“Temporary anomalies!” Viktor’s voice, hard with authority he hasn’t earned. “The ground-dweller twists science to serve her people’s agenda. Would you trade thousands of years of pure bloodlines on the word of our enemy?”

“I would trade blind tradition for survival,” comes Elder Tempest’s surprising response. “If our children cannot fly, cannot summon the storm, what remains of Storm Eagle legacy?”

Dissent spreads. I feel a surge of hope—Elena’s scientific truth is having the impact I’d prayed for. Not everyone will believe, but doubt has been planted. Seeds that might grow into a revolution if given time.

But time is something we don’t have.

I continue toward the detention chambers, moving more quickly now. Dawn approaches, and Viktor will want to stage his execution when the first light touches the eastern peaks—a traditional time for Storm Eagle justice.

Two guards stand outside the central chamber entrance. I could attempt stealth, but my time for caution has passed. I step into the open corridor, lightning already dancing between my fingertips.

The guards react instantly, reaching for weapons. “Stormwright! How did you?—”

I don’t let them finish. Twin bolts of lightning—precisely controlled to stun rather than kill—strike both men in the chest. They collapse without raising the alarm.

The detention chamber door stands before me. Unlike my simple cell, this door is designed to hold powerful prisoners—reinforced with enchanted metals and sealed with multiple locks. No simple electrical charge will break this barrier.

I place both hands against the cold metal and close my eyes, focusing not on brute force but on the complex pattern of magical energies woven into the door’s protection.

Before Elena, I would have simply blasted it with raw lightning until something gave way.

Now I can sense the intricate design, the specific vulnerabilities in the magical structure.

I send a precise pulse of energy through the locks, matching the frequency of the protection spells, creating a harmonic resonance that causes the magic to vibrate against itself. The door shudders, the protective spells fighting to maintain integrity as I carefully increase power.

The door explodes inward with a deafening crack that surely alerts every guard in the vicinity. But it doesn’t matter now—subtlety has served its purpose.

Inside, Elena spins toward the noise, her hands already glowing with defensive power. Our eyes meet, and the energy in her palms shifts from defensive silver to welcoming blue. The sight of her—bruised but unbowed, still defiant despite everything—fills me with pride and fury in equal measure.

“Your timing is excellent,” she says with remarkable calm, as though we’re meeting for dinner rather than a prison break. “I was just thinking the accommodations left something to be desired.”

Despite everything, I laugh. This brilliant, fearless woman has changed me irrevocably. “I considered diplomatic channels, but they seemed too slow.”

She steps toward me, and I pull her into my arms. The contact sends a surge of power through both of us—her silver-blue energy merging with my golden lightning to create something entirely new. The walls around us vibrate with the magical resonance.

“They’ve set my execution for dawn,” she murmurs against my chest.

“I know. Zara told me.” I pull back, examining her face. “Your words divided the council. The younger Eagles are questioning Viktor now.”

Hope flashes in her eyes. “There’s a chance then? For peaceful resolution?”

“Perhaps.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “But Viktor won’t surrender power easily. He’s invited the Dire Wolves to witness your execution—a political display to cement his alliance.”

Alarm crosses her features. “The alliance is worse than I feared. I found documents in Viktor’s chambers during my captivity. He’s planning systematic purges of what he calls ‘contaminated bloodlines’—any clan showing signs of genetic mixing.”

The implications hit me like a physical blow. “Genocide.”

“On a scale not seen since the barrier wars.” She grips my arms. “We have to stop him, Kael. Not just for us, but for all territories.”

Shouts echo from the corridors—guards discovering their unconscious comrades or responding to the destroyed door. We have minutes at most.

“We need to reach the eastern platforms,” I tell her. “Zara has gathered loyalists there.”

Elena nods decisively. “Lead the way.”

We move into the corridor, no longer attempting stealth. The time for hiding has passed. The first guards round the corner, weapons drawn. I raise my hand, summoning lightning, but Elena steps forward first.