Chapter 29
The study at Dragov Castle flickered with candlelight, shadows dancing across war maps strewn over the obsidian desk. Every route, every strategy had been drawn and redrawn a hundred times. The war had yet to begin, but Stephan had been fighting it in his mind since the day his father fell.
He exhaled and rubbed his temple. His body still ached from fresh wounds, but there was no time for rest. No time for grief. The Dragov Empire teetered on a blade’s edge, and he alone bore its weight.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Stephan said, his eyes never leaving the maps.
The door creaked open, and a royal guard stepped in, stiff and formal. “Your Majesty, the Pack Alpha has arrived.”
Stephan’s fingers stilled. His gaze lifted sharply. “Send him in.”
Kareon entered before the guard could reply. The room braced for him. He moved like a force of nature, deliberate and inevitable. Blood and steel clung to him. His golden eyes gleamed with certainty. A wolf who had hunted without apology, carrying dominance in every step.
Then Stephan saw the bag.
Kareon lifted it, a smirk slicing across his face. “I brought Eris a gift. Thought she’d appreciate it.”
Stephan’s eyes dropped to the bag. “What is it?”
“Nothing much,” Kareon replied, voice casual. “Just Leira’s head.”
The words struck him cold.
Stephan said nothing. He stared at the bag, heavy with retribution. Part of him wished Eris could see it, proof that justice had found its mark. Another part hoped she never would.
Kareon stepped forward and dropped the bag onto the desk, the thud echoing, dark and final.
“And the rest?” Stephan asked quietly.
“Dead,” Kareon said. His smile thinned. “All but one.”
He did not have to say the name.
Vatryk.
Kareon’s jaw locked. His fists curled. “I’ll find him,” he growled. “No matter how deep he buries himself—I’ll drag him out and end him. Even if I have to walk into hell to do it.”
There it was: raw, consuming devotion—the kind that burned down empires to protect what it loved.
Stephan saw it. He always had. Kareon would burn the world for her.
Just like him.
Stephan inhaled and nodded. “Thank you.” His voice was hoarse, threaded with something raw that Kareon understood but left unspoken.
The Alpha gave a slight nod in return. It was a rare exchange, born of shared loss and silent understanding. Then he stepped closer.
His posture shifted, his chin lifting, as if a declaration were coming. “You wanted an army?” His voice was calm but firm. “You have one. My pack stands ready. We’ll fight. Kill. Tear through the Obsidian Order until nothing’s left. Just give the word, Dragov, and watch the world burn.”
A heavy silence followed. Stephan’s gaze narrowed. He had not expected this. Centuries of bloodshed had divided Lycans and Firstbloods. No peace. No trust. And yet, here Kareon stood, offering war as though it had always been fate.
Stephan let the weight of the moment settle before the corner of his mouth curved. He knew Kareon too well not to expect what came next.
Kareon scoffed, rolling his shoulders like the air itself had grown too sentimental.
“Let’s be clear, Dragov,” he said, golden eyes glinting. “We’re fighting for Eris. Not for you. When this ends, you’re still my enemy.”
Stephan’s jaw twitched, but his lips lifted just enough for Kareon to notice.
Allies? Maybe.
Friends? Never.
Rivals? Always.
Not even war would change that.
Stephan leaned back against the desk, arms folding across his chest. “Understood,” he said, then paused. “And…thank you.”
Kareon tensed, visibly unsettled. The words did not sit well, did not fit the rules of their dynamic. For a moment, he looked like he might ignore them.
Then he muttered, shaking his head. “This conversation’s becoming disgusting.”
He turned toward the door, already halfway out before—
“Kareon.” Stephan’s voice stopped him cold.
Kareon glanced back, one brow raised. “What?”
Stephan exhaled. The words soured on his tongue, but he said them anyway. “Eris is still shaken,” he said after a pause. “Go see her.”
Kareon blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something dangerous.
“Well, well,” Kareon murmured. “Did the mighty Dragov King just admit I can do what he can’t?”
Stephan sighed. “Just go.”
Kareon smirked. “As you wish.”
He turned again. But—
“Kareon.” This time, the tone cut sharper. Stephan stood, shoulders squared, his silence speaking more than any threat could. “Keep your hands off. Don’t make me regret this.”
Kareon lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I swear,” he said, kissing his fingers like a vow. “I won’t kiss her. This time.”
“Get out.”
Kareon’s laugh echoed down the corridor.
Stephan remained still, alone. His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, eyes fixed on the door.
Eris. Kareon. War.
The battlefield was set, and whether they admitted it or not, so was theirs.
Somewhere beyond the strategy and bloodshed, she stood. Late morning sun spilled through the high windows of Dragov Castle, gilding the stone in soft, deceptive light. But inside, there was no warmth.
Eris stood motionless, staring past the horizon as if she could outrun the ghosts clinging to her.
Grief whispered through silence, settling into her skin.
Outside, the world held its breath, mourning with her.
She touched the glass, barely feeling the chill.
Her silk nightgown hung loose, the belt slipping, forgotten.
Nothing mattered. Her family was gone. The weight of it hollowed her chest, pressing in with each breath.
A storm churned beneath her skin, but outwardly, she remained stone.
A knock sounded at the door. She did not hear it.
Another knock followed, louder.
Still no response.
The door creaked open. Kareon stood there, his presence heavy and familiar. He shifted, breath catching in his throat, about to speak—until he realized he did not need to.
“You should knock next time.” Her voice was quiet, detached.
She hadn’t heard him enter. She had felt his presence pressing against the edges of her mind like a shadow.
He smirked despite himself. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”
No eye-roll. No bite. No spark.
This was wrong. She wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t pushing back just to prove she could. She wasn’t really here.
Kareon hated it. Seeing her like this, diminished, twisted something deep in him.
He should have stopped it. He should have killed Leira and Vatryk when he had the chance, reduced the Obsidian Order to ash. He should have protected her. But Kareon was not built for regret. He was built to act. And he would not let her drown.
He stepped forward, then again. His scent—smoke, earth, winter’s edge—wrapped around her.
Still, she didn’t move, not until he stood beside her. Only then did she turn.
Grief was carved into her. That sharp, luminous face was dulled. Her eyes, once defiant green, were empty.
It gutted him.
She had always been light. A flare against the dark. And now she was vanishing into it.
Something snarled in his chest.
No. Not her.
“Get dressed.”
She blinked slowly, as if the words had to fight their way through fog. Then she arched a brow. “Excuse me?”
He exhaled, jaw tight. “I said, get dressed. We’re going somewhere.”
Her sigh was barely a whisper. “Not today, Kareon. I’d rather stay here…If that’s okay. Please.”
A blade to the ribs. That voice—too soft. Too unlike her. Eris had never been fragile, but this was unraveling, and he wouldn’t allow it.
Before she could retreat, he caught her wrist—firm, not cruel. His other hand tilted her chin, guiding her eyes to his.
“All right,” he said, voice low. “I know commanding you isn’t exactly how I win points.” His lips curved slowly. “But just this once—humor me.” He paused as his grin sharpened. “Or I’ll dress you myself. And we both know how that ends.”
She stilled, eyes locked to his, searching. Kareon didn’t blink. He meant it.
Finally, she sighed and gently pulled from his grip. Then it appeared—a ghost of a smirk. “Fine,” she said. “But only because I know how badly you want to, and I won’t hand you that win.”
There she was. His Eris.
He chuckled and stepped back. As she disappeared behind the divider, he turned to the window, pretending to be a gentleman for once. Then he saw her reflection in the glass. Her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, sunlight gilding her skin.
Kareon looked away, jaw tight. He had seen her bleed, fight, and command. But this felt more dangerous than all of it. He forced a breath from his lungs.
Not now.
She emerged moments later, fingers tying the final knot of her corset, curls falling over one shoulder.
“Better,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowing faintly. “Where are we going?”
His gaze lingered a moment too long. “You’ll see.”
He turned and strode toward the stables.
Before she could argue, he was already on horseback—fast, untamed—leaving her no choice but to follow. Because that was what she always did. She followed the fire. And this time, it burned just enough to make her feel alive.
They rode through the Dragov estate, wind slicing through the trees. Kareon veered off the path, guiding them into older woods. At last, they reached the lake.
Eris slowed, pulling her mare into a trot. Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths.
She swung down, boots hitting the earth. Her gaze swept the clearing—silver-lit water, the canopy overhead, the hush of a place long forgotten.
Her brows knit together. "I know this place."
Kareon dismounted with predatory ease, a slow, sharp smile forming. "Maybe I should pin you to a tree and undo that corset lace. Jog your memory."
Eris stilled, inhaling sharply as the memory returned.
She exhaled, the sound dry and amused. "Bold imagery, Alpha." She paused. "But if I were you, I wouldn’t brag about unfinished business."
His laugh rumbled low, unhurried. He shrugged, casual on the surface, but watching her too closely.