Page 27 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

KAEL

N ews of Elena’s capture feels like a physical blow.

I stand atop the ancient ruins where we found refuge, watching as Zara’s messenger—a young Storm Eagle named Sorrel—delivers the report of what transpired prior to me and my patrol engaging with Viktor’s forces and the Dire Wolves earlier today.

I am still railing from the shock, trying desperately to comprehend why my headstrong Elena had put herself at harm’s way again.

Sorrel’s bronze feathers still tremble from the speed of her flight.

“Viktor’s forces intercepted her during an unauthorized humanitarian mission to a refugee camp,” Sorrel explains, catching her breath. “She went rogue: said screw Haven’s Heart branding her a traitor. She was treating wounded when they struck.”

“How many casualties?” I ask, my voice steady despite the storm building inside me.

“Six dead. Mostly medics who tried to protect her.” Sorrel’s eyes flick downward. “The refugees said she surrendered when Viktor threatened to execute the children.”

Of course she did. Elena would never put others at risk, even to save herself.

“Where have they taken her?” Lightning crackles between my fingers, responding to my barely contained rage.

“Viktor’s war camp at Black Ridge.” Sorrel hands me a small scroll. “Commander Gale sent this. He’s been coordinating with our loyalists still embedded in Viktor’s forces.”

I unroll the parchment, recognizing Gale’s tight, precise script.

The message is brief but devastating: Viktor plans to use Elena in a ritual sacrifice at the ancient temple.

His scouts have discovered texts suggesting that the blood of a storm-touched healer can amplify magical power a hundredfold.

The ritual is scheduled for the full moon—three days from now.

I crush the parchment in my fist as thunder rumbles overhead, echoing my fury. “Send word to Commander Gale. Tell him to maintain his position but prepare for my signal.”

Sorrel nods, shifting back to eagle form and launching skyward. I watch her disappear into the clouds before turning to face the others gathered in our makeshift war room—a partially collapsed chamber in the ruins where ancient murals depict the original bonds between sky and earth magic.

Zara approaches, her face tight with concern. “We can’t mount a direct assault on Black Ridge. Viktor’s positioned at least fifty Storm Eagles there, plus his Dire Wolf allies.”

“And we have twenty-three Storm Eagles loyal to us,” I acknowledge grimly. “Not enough.”

“Not nearly enough,” agrees Commander Tavis, my most experienced battle strategist. “Even with your enhanced abilities, those are suicide odds.”

I pace the stone floor, mind racing through tactical options. “Then we need allies.”

“The neutral clans won’t intervene,” Tavis says, shaking his head. “They’ve maintained their isolation for generations.”

“They might,” Zara interjects, “if they understood what Viktor’s ritual could mean for all territories. This isn’t just about Storm Eagles anymore.”

She’s right. Viktor’s ambition has grown beyond clan leadership or territorial dominance.

The ancient texts Elena translated revealed the truth—the original prophecies spoke of balance between elemental forces, not domination.

But Viktor has twisted this knowledge, seeking to harness powers no single shifter was meant to control.

“Send emissaries to the wolf and bear clans,” I decide. “And to Haven’s Heart.”

Tavis looks at me sharply. “Haven’s Heart? They consider us enemies. They’ve been hunting you for months.”

“Not all of them.” I turn to the ancient map spread across a stone table. “Elena’s brother Marcus commands their northern forces. He may hate me, but he loves his sister.”

“And if he refuses?” Tavis asks.

“He won’t.” I trace the route between our position and Black Ridge. “He knows Elena discovered something vital in these ruins—something that changes everything we thought we knew about our peoples.”

Zara places a hand on my arm, her eyes searching mine. “What’s your plan, brother?”

I look at the assembled Storm Eagles—warriors who risked everything to follow me after Viktor’s coup. They deserve the truth.

“No more isolation. No more superiority.” I gesture to the ancient murals surrounding us. “Our ancestors understood what we’ve forgotten—true strength comes from balance and cooperation. While Viktor prepares for his ritual, we’ll build a coalition of all territories.”

Skepticism shows on several faces. I can’t blame them. Storm Eagles have maintained their separation for centuries, raised on stories of our genetic superiority and manifest destiny. Asking them to fight alongside ground-dwellers requires a monumental shift in perspective.

“I know what I’m asking,” I continue. “But Elena proved something crucial with her research. Our ‘pure’ bloodlines are weakening from isolation. We need genetic diversity—connections with other clans—to survive.”

“Viktor would call that contamination,” says an older warrior.

“Viktor would rather see us extinct than evolved,” I counter. “The question is: would you?”

The chamber falls silent as my words sink in. Finally, Tavis steps forward.

“I’ve followed you for thirteen years, Stormwright. Your leadership brought us through famines, territorial wars, and resource shortages. If you believe this alliance is our path forward, I stand with you.”

Others nod in agreement, though uncertainty lingers in their expressions. I understand their hesitation. I shared it once. Before Elena showed me another way.

“Prepare for departure,” I order. “Zara will coordinate our allies while I make contact with Haven’s Heart.”

As the others disperse to their tasks, I walk to the balcony overlooking the valley below.

Storm clouds gather on the horizon, responding to my turbulent emotions.

Since my defeat by Viktor and Elena’s healing, my connection to storm magic has deepened, becoming more precise, more controlled.

The incomplete mate bond has changed me in ways I’m still discovering.

Zara joins me, leaning against the ancient stone railing. “You’re going alone to Haven’s Heart, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“They’ll shoot you on sight.”

“Possibly.” I manage a grim smile. “But I have something they want.”

“Your head on a pike?” Her attempt at humor doesn’t mask her worry.

“Information about Viktor’s plans. And proof of what Elena discovered here.” I pull a small vial from my belt pouch—Elena’s blood mixed with mine, showing the genetic compatibility that our traditions claimed was impossible. “Scientific evidence they can’t ignore.”

Zara sighs. “I should come with you.”

“No.I need you here, coordinating with the wild clans.” I grasp her shoulder. “You’re the diplomat, sister. Always have been.”

“And you’ve always been the stubborn one.” She embraces me briefly. “Just don’t get yourself killed before the rescue mission.”

I leave at dusk, shifting into eagle form and launching from the highest point of the ruins.

The storm energy surrounding Black Ridge is visible even from this distance—an unnatural darkness gathering above the mountain where Viktor has established his war camp.

Whatever ritual he’s preparing, its power already corrupts the natural patterns of weather and magic.

The flight to Haven’s Heart territory takes hours, even at my top speed. I stay high, using cloud cover when possible, avoiding known patrol routes. Elena’s tactical analysis of Haven’s Heart security has proved invaluable, though I doubt she ever imagined I’d use it this way.

The northern military outpost appears below me just before midnight—a collection of reinforced buildings surrounded by defensive perimeters and guard towers. Light rain begins to fall as I circle once, identifying the command center where Marcus Ashford likely makes his headquarters.

I land in a small clearing just outside their sensor range, shifting back to human form.

The transformation comes easier now, and the lightning that accompanies it is more controlled.

Another gift from Elena’s healing and our strengthening bond.

Even separated, I can feel her presence like a distant heartbeat.

Approaching the outpost requires both stealth and audacity. I choose the latter, walking openly toward the main gate, hands visible at my sides. Alarm klaxons sound almost immediately.

“HALT!” Floodlights blind me as guards raise weapons from multiple positions. “IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

“My name is Kael Stormwright,” I call out, keeping my hands raised. “I need to speak with Commander Ashford regarding his sister.”

The response is predictable—more weapons, shouted orders, and within minutes, I’m surrounded by Haven’s Heart soldiers in full tactical gear.

They bind my hands with specialized restraints designed to suppress shifter abilities.

Little do they know such measures no longer work on me, not since Elena’s magic awakened something new in my bloodline.

They march me through the compound at gunpoint, suspicion and hatred evident in every face. To them, I’m the enemy who’s terrorized their settlements for years. The monster from the sky. I can’t blame them for their fear.

The command center is a utilitarian structure of steel and concrete—so different from the organic, flowing architecture of the Storm Eagle aerie. Inside, they push me into an interrogation room and secure my restraints to a metal table bolted to the floor.

I wait calmly, conserving my energy. Fighting now would only confirm their worst expectations. Besides, I didn’t come to fight.

The door opens, and Marcus Ashford enters. He’s taller than Elena but shares her determined jaw and intelligent eyes. Unlike his sister, however, his expression contains no curiosity—only cold fury.

“Stormwright.” He remains standing, arms crossed. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t execute you where you sit.”