Chapter 8
* * *
“Run, Candy!”
Aeolus’s voice tore through the clearing like a war cry, deep and commanding—alpha in every syllable.
And she obeyed.
Candy’s breath tore from her lungs in ragged, desperate gasps as she sprinted through the forest, heart thundering like war drums inside her chest.
The towering redwoods loomed like ancient titans, their gnarled limbs clawing at the indigo sky, casting monstrous shadows that danced in the pale slashes of moonlight. Fog clung to the forest floor like greedy hands, dragging across her calves, trying to pull her down.
She didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
Not when the monster was behind her.
Not when the past—the man, the myth, the madness—was hunting her again.
Elias Dragovic.
Her stalker.
Her nightmare.
The obsession that refused to die, that followed her across lifetimes, watching from the edges of every existence.
And now?
Now she knew his name.
Now she could hear him—not struggling, not panting, not even trying.
Just running.
Effortlessly.
As if the chase was a gift she’d given him. As if this was all a game and she was the prize.
“Run, little siren,” his voice coiled through the trees, rich and syrupy, a predator’s lullaby. “Let me remember what it feels like to catch you.”
Candy choked on a breath and pushed harder, her boots pounding the damp earth, lungs searing, blood rushing in her ears.
But the forest—the place that had once felt sacred—wasn’t hers anymore.
It was his.
He had infected it with his presence. His madness.
His love.
But even as panic scraped at her throat, she wasn’t blind to the other war exploding in the distance.
Aeolus.
Her mate.
He was fighting—gods, he was fighting—his massive body a blur of gold and fury, tearing through enemies like a beast possessed. His snarls split the night, wet and wild, the scent of blood and silver thick in the air.
But there were too many.
Vampires. Wolves. Mercenaries trained to slaughter anything with a heartbeat and a secret.
Her heart slammed harder when she saw it—
One of them flanking him, too fast, too quiet, silver flashing in the dark.
“No!” she screamed, the sound ragged, raw.
Aeolus twisted just in time, dodging the blade with inhuman speed, but she felt the shift in him—he was taking too many hits. Even a god could bleed.
And then—
“There you are.”
Her blood ran cold.
She didn’t have to look.
She knew.
Elias.
The air itself seemed to drop ten degrees, the forest bending under his presence like it recognized a monster when it saw one.
She tried to run faster, tried to move, but—
Too late.
A hand—cold, impossibly strong—closed around her wrist like a vice.
And pulled.
Candy screamed.
It wasn’t a scream of fear.
It was a scream of rage.
Of defiance.
Of knowing she would fight him until her last breath.
But even as she kicked and twisted, Elias’s laugh spilled across the clearing—low, delighted, reverent.
“Just like before,” he whispered into her ear, his voice a memory dragged from the grave. “Always so stubborn. Always mine.”
His grip tightened.
And Candy?
She reached for the magic still flickering weakly inside her.
Because if she was going down—
She was going down swinging.
* * *
Candy’s body slammed into the ground with brutal force, the forest floor biting into her back and knocking the wind from her lungs. She hit so hard the stars overhead blurred, her vision tunneling as she gasped for breath.
Her hands dug into wet earth, scrambling, but before she could move—he was on her.
Elias.
He loomed like a monster stitched from nightmares and bone dust. Crimson eyes glowed like embers, eating up every inch of her with greedy, deranged hunger.
“Gods,” he groaned, voice thick, guttural, obscene. His fingers wrapped around her wrist like iron shackles, pinning her down. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to feel you beneath me again.”
Candy kicked out, fought, screamed—
But he didn’t flinch.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t even blink.
Because in his diseased mind, he had already won.
His hand moved to his belt buckle, slow and deliberate, as if he were undressing for an intimate reunion. As if this was something sacred. His entire body pulsed with sick satisfaction.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. A prayer. A curse. A promise.
“Go to hell,” Candy hissed, thrashing.
He laughed.
Not a human sound.
It was cracked and fraying—like glass breaking under the weight of madness. His hand clamped down on her thigh, pinning her hard enough to bruise.
“I’ve already been,” he murmured, voice dark as a crypt. “And I’ll drag you there with me, my love. We’ll burn together.”
Her scream tore through the trees.
And then—
The forest shattered.
A sound erupted like thunder—a Siren’s Cry.
Power rolled through the clearing like a wave of sound and fury. Trees trembled. The very air fractured.
Elias flew off her, ripped back by the invisible force like a puppet with severed strings. He slammed into a tree, splintering bark, hitting so hard the trunk cracked.
Candy gasped.
And then—she moved.
Her fingers wrapped around the grip of her gun. The one Aeolus had pressed into her palm the night her powers faltered. His voice came back to her now, low and unyielding:
“Each bullet’s laced with toxin. One hit will burn through a supernatural’s bloodstream like acid. It won’t kill him unless you land a clean shot. But it will hurt. It will slow him down. Aim true.”
She aimed.
Because before she had been a siren, before she had been magic—she’d been a fighter.
She and Betsy had trained together, side by side, bloody-knuckled in foster homes that taught them how to survive before they ever learned how to hope. They were the girls no one saved. So they’d learned to save each other.
And now?
Betsy was here.
She came tearing through the trees like a hurricane in braids and combat boots, eyes blazing with fury.
“Get the fuck off my sister!” Betsy roared, her voice still echoing with the raw magic of her Siren’s Cry.
Candy didn’t hesitate.
She lifted the gun.
Bang.
The first shot ripped through Elias’s shoulder. He jerked sideways, howling. The toxin went to work immediately—veins blackening at the edges, skin bubbling beneath his coat.
Bang.
Another hit to the thigh. Blood splattered across the leaves.
Still—he rose.
Snarling.
Grinning.
Like he liked the pain.
“There she is,” Elias rasped, licking blood from his teeth. “My Candy.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three more shots fired in rapid succession.
The bullets sank into his side, into his arm, into his gut—and each one brought with it Aeolus’s gift: a supernatural poison that laced his veins with fire.
Elias swayed.
Smoke curled from his wounds.
His smile widened.
“You always did fight back so beautifully,” he rasped, staggering.
Candy’s stomach rolled, bile rising in her throat.
The toxin wasn’t killing him fast enough.
It was hurting him—badly—but not stopping him.
Betsy reached her, grabbing her arm, her grip strong. “We have to move. Now.”
Candy hesitated for one breath.
One heartbeat.
Then she nodded, heart thundering, and let her sister haul her to her feet.
Behind them, Elias dropped to his knees—but didn’t fall.
He was still smiling.
Still watching.
Still burning with twisted love.
“Run if you must,” he whispered. “I’ll find you again. I always do.”
But Candy wasn’t running because she was afraid.
She was running because she had a plan.
And this time?
She wouldn’t just survive.
She’d end him.
* * *
Elias had barely staggered to his feet when the forest exploded.
A blur of golden fury collided with him, moving so fast it barely registered before it was too late.
The impact hit like a freight train—bone-crushing, soul-rattling, violent.
He flew through the air, his body cracking against a massive redwood with enough force to shake loose a cascade of splinters. The ground quaked, bark shredded, and the air was filled with the sound of flesh meeting ancient wood at deadly speed.
Elias dropped to the dirt with a wheeze, blood pooling in his mouth, his mind swimming.
And then—
A hand. A monstrous, calloused hand—wrapped around his throat.
Adonis.
Not just any wolf.
The Alpha of North America.
The oldest Stavros brother.
The one no one challenged and lived.
The moment Elias saw him, a ripple of recognition flickered in his maddened eyes.
And then—
Pain.
Adonis snarled and lifted Elias clean off the forest floor like a rag doll.
“You stupid, dead, motherfucker,” he growled, his voice low and lethal, like a blade dragging over stone.
He slammed Elias back into the tree.
The trunk cracked again.
Elias saw stars.
His ribs shattered. Vertebrae screamed. Blood spilled from his mouth in thick rivulets.
Real pain. Not the kind he savored for fun. The kind that reminded him—he was in trouble.
And yet… he smiled.
A crimson grin split his face, teeth slick and glinting.
“Ahhh,” he rasped, licking his bloody lip. “The wolves finally remember how to bite.”
Adonis’s golden eyes darkened to molten fire.
He slammed him again.
“You came for a mate. You touched what’s ours. You broke the code.”
Elias’s laughter was hoarse and cracked. “I shattered it.”
His head lolled against the bark as he chuckled, as if the very idea of rules—laws—meant nothing.
Because to Elias Dragovic?
They didn’t.
Adonis’s claws extended—black, curved, deadly—and dug into the vampire’s neck. He was seconds from ripping.
But then—
A voice cut through the air.
Rough. Low. Commanding.
“His head is mine.”
Adonis’s entire body tensed.
Slowly, his eyes—still blazing—lifted to the shadow stalking forward from the treeline.
Aeolus.
He walked like a storm on two legs—covered in blood, torn to hell, eyes burning blue fire. Dirt smeared across his chest, his hands clenched at his sides, muscles coiled with violence.
But his face?
Cold. Still. Unforgiving.
There was no banter. No snarl.
Only death, walking.
Adonis didn’t move. Not at first.
He stood there, holding Elias, his alpha instincts screaming to finish it. To end the threat with his own hands. To make him pay.
But Aeolus spoke again—quieter this time, but every syllable echoed like a damn war drum.