Chapter 22
ROWAN
It doesn’t seem to matter how quickly we make the rest of our calls or how efficiently plans are put into motion—Malrik is still two steps ahead.
Every council member, or beta acting in their place, that we manage to reach confirms the same thing: unusual movement near their borders, whispers of magic where it doesn’t belong, scouts going missing.
Even those who haven’t been touched yet can feel it building, like pressure beneath the surface of the earth just waiting for the right moment to split open.
After hearing Talira’s story, I was certain we had the advantage. I thought understanding Malrik’s past would give us leverage—that we could go on the offense and meet ol’ RikRot at his front door before he ever got close to ours.
But that certainty is gone now.
He isn’t reacting to us.
He’s orchestrating us.
And I’m not sure what to do with that realization.
We hunt, Wolf says with a low, feral snarl, the instinct in her immediate and undeniable. We find him. We end him.
Part of me agrees without hesitation. The part that feels the threat like a blade against my throat, the part that knows what he’s capable of and what he’s already done.
But I’ve worked too hard to let brash instinct rule me.
Lately, I’ve done a decent job of not overreacting, of thinking before I act, and I refuse to let the first real sign of escalation throw me into something reckless. If I rush into this and miscalculate, it won’t just be me who pays for it.
It will be all of them.
My family.
That’s been my focus since the moment I understood I wasn’t just another wolf shifter. I carry something bigger now. Something that could tip the scales in ways no one can predict. I have the power to destroy, but I never want that to be the first thing I reach for.
It feels wrong at a cellular level.
Like it would be too easy.
And if it’s too easy, it’s probably not the right answer.
At least, I want there to be another, even if I’m starting to suspect it won’t be the simplest one.
Cade joins me at the window where I’ve been standing for the better part of an hour, staring out over Solara as if the trees might offer guidance.
He doesn’t interrupt my thoughts immediately.
He just wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder, his warmth grounding in a way that steadies the storm inside me.
“What has you so occupied?” he asks quietly.
I let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “You know, just a centuries-old sorcerer who believes my public downfall is the solution to all his emotional problems.”
His grip tightens slightly at my waist. “You at least have the supernatural world on your side now.”
It should be comforting.
It should make me feel invincible.
Instead, dread curls tighter in my chest.
“What if war isn’t the right answer?” I ask, the words leaving me before I can overthink them. I’ve been circling the idea for the last hour, arguing with myself in silence, but if I don’t say it out loud, I’ll start questioning my own sanity.
He moves me gently until I’m facing him, his hands still firm at my hips. “What do you mean?”
For a second, I can’t meet his eyes.
Because once I say this, it becomes real.
“Maybe we don’t kill Malrik.”
His hands tighten instinctively, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell me how deeply that suggestion lands. “Why would we let him live?” he asks, his voice controlled, but I can feel the undercurrent of disbelief through the bond.
I shrug helplessly, though it feels like anything but casual.
“I’ve asked myself that same question at least a dozen times since Iris threw out her frying pan idea.
And no, I’m not suggesting we hit him with cookware,” I add quickly, “but what if there’s something to it? Not the pan. The alternative.”
His expression doesn’t soften, but it does shift into something more analytical.
“What if,” I continue, forcing myself to say it clearly, “instead of destroying him, I put him in a position where he can’t hurt anyone again? I could strip him of his magic.”
Cade pulls me into his chest before I can read his reaction fully, his arms tightening around me. “You really are too good for this world,” he murmurs into my hair, and there’s no mockery in it—only something that sounds dangerously close to awe.
He holds me there for several breaths, and I let him, because the truth is I’m not entirely certain I’m right.
He eventually eases back, keeping his hands on me as he studies my face. “I’m not disagreeing with you,” he says carefully. “But why does this feel like the better option to you?”
I scrub my hands over my face, frustrated with myself for not having a perfectly strategic answer.
“Because murdering him sounds awful,” I admit. “Because Talira made me feel something I didn’t expect to feel for him. Because he was manipulated and used and broken long before he chose to break anyone else. Because two wrongs don’t magically cancel each other out.”
I swallow hard.
“Because if I’m as powerful as everyone thinks I am, then maybe I should be using that power to end cycles instead of continuing them.”
The air feels thin by the time I finish speaking, like I’ve been holding my breath for longer than I realized.
“And because,” I add, the honesty spilling out now that I’ve started, “this whole thing sucks balls.”
The tension cracks just enough for his mouth to twitch, but he doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he cups my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek as he sends something steady and warm through our bond—peace, love, and reassurance—until the frantic beat of my heart begins to slow.
“You don’t want to become what he became,” he says quietly.
It isn’t a question. It’s an understanding.
“No,” I whisper, the word carrying more weight than I expect. “I don’t.”
He studies me for a long moment, and through our bond, I feel the subtle war inside him—instinct and respect colliding. The part of him that would tear the world apart to keep me safe doesn’t like this path. The part of him that chose me because of who I am refuses to override it.
“You’re not alone in that,” he finally says, his voice lower now, steadier. “One of my first thoughts after hearing about his past was that I almost felt sorry for him. So, I’m not surprised you’re torn up by this.”
I lift a brow. “But?”
His mouth flattens slightly, and I know what’s coming before he says it.
“But if it’s your life or his,” he says, his golden eyes darkening toward something deeper, more primal, “I would bring you back from the dead just to punish you if you let him live.”
That earns a small smile from me despite everything. “Promise?”
“I’m serious, Rowan.”
The humor drains from his expression completely. The gold in his eyes is near-brown, the wolf beneath them rising closer to the surface.
“I can accept that you have a bigger heart than the rest of us,” he continues, his hands tightening at my waist, not to restrain but to anchor.
“I can accept that you want to end this differently. But I won’t stand by and let you sacrifice yourself in the process.
Whatever you’re planning, whatever you think you can carry alone, I need your word that it won’t cost me my mate.
Anything else, I’ll support. Anything. But not losing you. ”
There’s no threat in his tone. No demand.
Only truth.
I rise onto my toes, sliding my hands up around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss that’s softer than the moment calls for but exactly what we need. “I promise,” I murmur against his lips. “Malrik doesn’t get to live over me. I’m nowhere near ready to be done with you.”
“Good,” he breathes, relief flickering through the bond as our foreheads press together.
We stay like that for a moment, breathing each other in, letting the steady pulse between us smooth out the sharp edges of the conversation. It would be so easy to stay here, in this quiet space between chaos and consequence, but neither of us is foolish enough to pretend that’s where this ends.
“What do you need from me?” he asks after a few seconds, his voice gentler now but no less firm.
“Tell me what’s happened since I left your office.”
I’d wanted to be part of the calls, to stand beside him and hear every confirmation, every update, every shift in allegiance, but I couldn’t stomach another “too late.” Not after Brynn. Not after hearing the violence rip through that line. Not after the next five calls had too much in common.
Because it hasn’t only been the wolves.
It’s been vampire leaders. Witch covens. Entire groups snatched as if the air itself swallowed them whole.
The more I allow myself to sit in that reality, the harder it becomes to cling to the idea of mercy.
But I know myself.
And I know I won’t kill him if I don’t absolutely have to.
“No one else has been taken that we’ve heard,” Cade answers, watching my reaction. “On the plus side, the vampire clans and witch covens, who normally prefer to be on their own, are willing to stand with us.”
My eyes widen at that. “To fight alongside us until this is over, or only long enough to retrieve their people?”
“With us,” he says. “If it comes to that.”
There’s something significant in that shift, something that speaks to more than fear.
“Everyone’s starting to realize,” he continues, “that maybe the prophecy didn’t mean what they thought it did. That they’ve misunderstood it all these years.”
I can’t help the small grin that tugs at my mouth. “They’re realizing that on their own, or you’ve helped guide them to that conclusion?”
His answering smile is roguish and unapologetic. “A little of both.”
Gods, I love this man.
“Well,” I say slowly, a plan beginning to take shape in the quiet space between my thoughts, “if they’re more agreeable than expected, then I think I know what we need to do next.”
His expression doesn’t shift into skepticism the way it might have days ago. Instead, there’s a readiness there now, trust layered over caution.
“I’m here to do whatever you think is best, mate.”
I pat his chest lightly. “Until it puts my life at risk more than necessary.”
“Precisely.”
He looks far too proud of that compromise.
“Then we keep making calls,” I tell him, the strategy settling into something firmer now. “We tell them the truth. All of it. We make it clear that our goal is not to start a war.”
His expression shifts, becoming more cautious. “If we do that, we’ll have to tell them what you can really do.”
The words hang between us.
It’s a risk.
Not just politically, but personally.
Letting the world know that I can strip a supernatural being of their magic, that I can take something intrinsic and irrevocably change it, will shift how they see me forever. It could inspire loyalty…or fear.
Maybe both.
But if they understand that I don’t intend to use that power to dominate, only to stop the cycle, then maybe they’ll think twice before turning against me in the future.
And maybe, just maybe, I won’t be saving only one life with this choice.
I meet Cade’s gaze again, steady and resolved.
“If Malrik wants an audience,” I say quietly, “then that’s what he’ll have. And we’ll give them all something worth watching.”