Chapter 48
Kaldrek could do nothing but watch as Cillian stalked toward Evelyne, his eyes black with bloodlust. There was a flicker in his expression, a hesitation so brief it might have been imagined, but Kaldrek saw it.
Something inside him was still fighting.
Cillian hadn’t completely vanished beneath the monster Vaelora had created.
Part of Kaldrek still wanted to tear him apart.
The image of Ty’s body, split in two on the cold stone floor, was burned into his mind.
Ty had been more than a friend; he was pack, closer than blood.
Kaldrek had felt the alpha bond tear the moment Ty died.
Through it, he’d felt the ripple of agony from Nathan and Reyna.
The grief threatened to consume him, but there was no time to mourn.
Vaelora had turned her attention to Evelyne. She had given the command. Cillian was going to kill her next.
Kaldrek couldn’t let that happen. He had seen what Cillian was capable of, what those hands had done to Ty. He couldn’t bear to watch Evelyne meet the same end. He needed Cillian to fight back, to resist the demon that still lived inside him.
Cillian stood over her, unmoving and hollow-eyed. Evelyne was unarmed, broken-hearted, and vulnerable. And part of that was Kaldrek’s fault.
She was going to die, and he was powerless to stop it.
He had to shift. It was the only way to break free, to reach her before it was too late.
But the Noskari holding him were too strong.
Three of them pinned him in place. One had its claws buried in his shoulder, pressing its fangs to his throat as the other two held his chains.
They restrained him just enough to keep him from tearing them apart, and to ensure he had to watch.
Evelyne, the woman who had unraveled him from the moment he found her in his camp, bound and defiant, her golden eyes blazing with challenge, was about to die.
It was breaking him.
He had known other lovers, but none like her. None who saw him for who he truly was, none who made him feel so infuriatingly alive. She was his. Even if fate had not bound them as mates, she was his in every way that mattered.
And he had barely been given time to love her.
But he did love her. Deeply and desperately, enough that it had terrified him. And now Vaelora, the twisted creature who had already taken everything from him—his birthright, his pack, the truth of his blood—was about to take Evelyne too. Kaldrek wasn’t sure he could survive losing her.
Would she have stayed if he had told her the truth sooner? If he had confessed everything before they left the tunnels, would Evelyne have believed him? Or would she have seen it as a betrayal, a manipulation designed to break her?
It didn’t matter now. Not as Cillian’s fingers tightened around her throat. Not as Vaelora began to chant, her voice rising in a dark, rhythmic cadence he believed to be the start of the ritual sacrifice.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Evelyne whispered to her brother.
Kaldrek’s primal instinct ignited like wildfire.
He twisted toward the Noskari at his throat and lunged without hesitation. His fangs sank deep into flesh, tearing and shredding with savage precision. He wasn’t thinking, only reacting, only trying to draw their attention. If Cillian needed to kill someone, let it be him. Let it be now.
Chains groaned as Kaldrek pulled against them with furious strength. One of the Noskari stumbled, unprepared for the sudden force. Kaldrek seized the moment, driving forward with a snarl and sinking his fangs into its throat. Hot, dark blood sprayed across his face.
Vaelora’s chant faltered, and she hissed. “That’s enough, Kaldrek.”
But it was already too late.
Cillian’s eyes snapped to the noise just as the throne room shifted. Crimson light flooded through the tall, arched windows, spilling like liquid fire across the stone floor. Through the cracks in the night, the moon now hung in the sky like a bleeding eye. The eclipse had reached its peak.
Shadows stretched unnaturally, slithering along the walls as if alive, drawn to the surge of magic thickening the air. The light was like a tear ripped open in the heavens, and for a breathless moment, all eyes turned to the red glow as it pulsed across the room like a living heartbeat.
Then came the sound of breaking bones and twisting flesh. Followed by the shrieking agony of a body reshaping itself.
Cillian was shifting.
His screams ripped through the air as his body contorted in grotesque ways.
Kaldrek knew that pain all too well; the first shift was always the worst, bones snapping and reforming, muscles knotting, fire burning beneath the skin.
But Evelyne had no idea what was happening to her brother, no frame of reference for the hell he was enduring.
“Cillian!” she cried, panic-stricken. “What is happening to him? What are you doing to him?” Her voice cracked as she turned her fury to Vaelora.
“Holy fuck,” Holden whispered beside Kaldrek, realization sinking in.
Alaric’s voice was barely audible over the chaos. “Is he shifting?” Disbelief laced his words.
Evelyne was shaking uncontrollably as she watched her brother transform into something monstrous.
A beast.
A wolf, but unlike any Kaldrek had ever seen.
He was massive, towering over them all. His fur was black as a void, yet his eyes were not the crimson red of a pure wolf bloodline, nor the bottomless black of the Noskari. They glowed gold, bright and radiant, as if a star had been sealed inside him.
Vaelora’s smile stretched wide as she circled Cillian, her eyes gleaming with a savage hunger. She moved like a queen admiring a weapon she had carefully forged.
“I always hoped you would shift for me one day,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Just look at you. So strong. So perfect.” Then her tone sharpened. “Now kill her.”
Cillian turned toward Evelyne, his lips curling back to reveal his fangs. Saliva dripped from his muzzle as he crouched low, muscles rippling beneath the sleek black fur. His massive frame radiated lethal intent.
Evelyne stumbled back a step, a broken sob escaping her. “Please, Cillian… come back.”
One massive paw struck the marble floor, claws screeching against stone. For a breathless, terrifying moment, Kaldrek was certain he would lunge and tear her apart. But Cillian didn’t move closer. Instead, the glow in his eyes intensified—so bright Evelyne had to shield her face.
In a swift motion, Cillian tore his eyes from her and fixed them on Vaelora.
A deep growl rose from his throat as he began a slow, deliberate prowl forward. Kaldrek’s pulse hammered. He recognized that look—the slight tilt of the head, the piercing intensity in his eyes. This wasn’t submission. Cillian was stalking.
Vaelora’s smile wavered. “Go on, love,” she said. “Kill her. Complete the sacrifice.” But Cillian didn’t strike. Instead, he began to circle her with deadly patience, each step radiating controlled rage, a predator waiting for the perfect moment.
A flicker of unease crossed Vaelora’s face. “I said kill her!” she snapped, her voice rising in desperation.
But Cillian’s lips only peeled back further, another low snarl vibrating deep in his chest.
Vaelora clicked her tongue, forcing a mask of disappointment onto her features. “It seems someone has been fighting the dark power from inside. A shame.” She lifted her hands, summoning a storm of black magic. “No matter. I can still break you.”
The blast she unleashed roared across the throne room, thick and corrosive. Cillian lunged at her, but a shadowy coil struck him midair, slamming him into the ground hard enough to crack the marble beneath him. He grunted, but immediately tried to rise.
Vaelora’s magic exploded outward, her rage a living force.
Dark mist surged like snapping whips, lashing through the air and seizing everything in its path.
Obren was yanked backward and slammed into a pillar with bone-jarring impact.
Holden dropped to his knees, his chains pulling so tight they rattled.
A wave of inky mist struck Alaric, driving him to the floor as he coughed, choking on the smothering blast.
And Evelyne—
A thick, oily tendril snaked around her neck, lifting her off the ground. Her feet kicked wildly as she clawed at the shadow choking the life from her.
Kaldrek’s blood turned to ice. Fury exploded inside him, hot and consuming.
Cillian was pinned under Vaelora’s suffocating magic, her darkness chaining him down again and again.
His massive body buckled under its weight, shadows binding his limbs, strangling his movements.
And still, he fought. He tore at the magic with his claws.
He snapped at it with his teeth. Unlike anything Kaldrek had ever witnessed, his strength held firm against her crushing power.
No other could have withstood it.
No one but Cillian.
Kaldrek’s gaze snapped to Evelyne. Her struggles were weakening. Her golden eyes fluttered, her body sagging against the noose of shadow.
He ripped against his chains with a roar that shook the rafters.
The Noskari restraining him tightened their grips, claws digging into his arms and shoulders.
Kaldrek didn’t care. He lunged forward, seizing the nearest Noskari with his bare hands.
With a violent twist, he tore its head from its body.
Another Noskari struck at him. Kaldrek ducked low and drove his fist upward, shattering its jaw and sending it crashing. He turned on the third, his hands slick with blood, and ripped its throat open in one savage motion.
Chains clattered around him as he broke free.
Kaldrek shifted in a flash, his wolf form surging forward like a battering ram. He tore through the chaos, his only thought to reach Evelyne and Cillian.