Chapter 64

Sleep lasts only a couple of hours.

I wake to the soft creaking of the lake house, the structure groaning like an old ghost settling into its bones. Silas is slumped against me, his head resting gently against mine, his breath slow and even—deep in sleep. It's rare, seeing him this vulnerable. Surprising, even.

Now it's my turn to keep watch.

Careful not to disturb him, I tilt my head slightly, scanning the glassy dark beyond the windows and the balcony door. Nothing stirs. The forest outside is wrapped in a heavy pre-dawn stillness, as if holding its breath. A faint mist curls along the ground, blurring the edges of the trees. But inside, the old kitchen clock ticks with dreadful precision. Each second a metronome for the unease crawling beneath my skin, amplifying the silence into something sharp and haunted.

Silas’s breathing anchors me. I focus on the way each inhale brushes softly against my shoulder, warm and rhythmic. It's almost a lullaby. Almost.

“Do you sense anyone nearby, Blanche?” I reach inward, calling to the wolf that shares my soul.

"No," she answers, her voice low and cautious. “No wolves in the area... but that doesn’t mean they’re not here.”

Of course. Like Silas, they could be masking their scent. Their presence. That witch, Sybil. She’s powerful enough to shroud a legion if she wanted to.

Tension coils through my body, locking into every muscle and bone. I don’t move, don’t breathe too deeply, just let my eyes sweep the dark again and again while I cradle my mate in quiet vigilance.

Eventually, I feel his breathing shift. It hitches slightly. A stir of movement beneath me, the subtle shifting of his legs.

His violet eyes flutter open.

He blinks slowly, still half caught in sleep, and then his gaze finds mine. The corners of his mouth lift—not with humor, but something softer. Something reverent. Like I’m the only thing in this world worth waking up to.

“When did you wake?” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine in a featherlight kiss.

“A little while ago. I didn’t want to wake you,” I whisper back, stretching against the stiffness in my spine. “Dawn’s still about an hour off. Nothing’s moved out there.”

He nods, his own gaze sweeping the windows in quiet calculation. Then we both rise. I tell him I need air, and he lingers behind to make coffee, giving me a moment to myself.

I step barefoot onto the porch.

The horizon is beginning to pale—just a faint smudge of silver at the edge of the world. Not quite dawn, but the suggestion of it. The wind has picked up, whispering through the trees in a language older than time. From beyond the clearing, the gentle hush of lakewater lapping at the sand calls to me. Hypnotic. Familiar.

Drawn forward, I descend the wooden steps and step onto the beach, letting my feet sink into the cold embrace of damp sand. The waves roll in to kiss my toes, icy but not cruel. Just sharp enough to burn away the remnants of sleep and leave me aware. Present.

For a moment, everything is still. Peaceful.

Then—a snap. A sharp crack of a twig, too deliberate to be the wind.

My body reacts before thought can catch up. I turn, already crouching slightly, blood pounding in my ears.

Eyes.

Dozens of them.

Watching from the trees. Unblinking. Glowing faintly in the dark like predator’s fire.

My heart slams against my ribs. My breath catches. Panic grips me, sharp and absolute.

They’ve found us.

My mind reaches for James like a lightning strike. “They’re here. Hurry.” I sever the link just as the largest shape detaches from the shadows, striding into view.

Damon.

His wolf form stalks into the clearing, all muscle and menace, Tar colored fur rippling like smoke. He shifts mid-step, rising into his humanoid form—if it can even be called that. His features are too sharp, too cold. The cruel curve of his mouth and ice eyes betrays something inhuman, something monstrous.

He smiles, all teeth and venom.

“Well, well... sweet Athena. All alone, are we?” His voice is slick with mockery. “Looks like your little pack finally realized what a burden you are. Left you behind like a broken mutt.”

Behind him, a sleek black wolf steps from the trees, his expression twisted with disgust. Aiden. Of course.

I don’t respond. My throat feels scorched. My limbs locked in place.

Damon steps closer, eyes gleaming. “Did you really think you could run from me forever?” His voice is gentle now, a serpent’s lullaby. “Come with me, and I’ll give you everything. We could’ve ruled, you and me. A kingdom of ice and blood. Your pack abandoned you. But I... I see what you truly are.”

Still, I stay silent.

Still, I do not move.

He steps closer, extending a hand. “Don’t make me take you by force again.”

His gaze flicks to the side, narrowing when it lands on the fresh mark etched into the side of my neck.

Silas’s claim.

His lips curl back in a snarl. “Did you really think that would stop me? Sybil knows how to break bonds. That mark won’t save you.”

He takes another step. “You’re not protected. You’re alone and mine.”

A low growl ruptures the air. The trees themselves seem to flinch.

“Who said she was alone?”

Silas lands beside me with terrifying grace, a thunderclap wrapped in flesh and wings. His presence is enormous. One wing curls around me like armor; the other unfurls in front of him, a shield of dark feathers and fury.

Damon’s eyes burn crimson. The smile fades.

“Brother,” he sneers. “So you did mark her. How quaint. But you won’t keep her from me. She’s the key to everything. She’s the path to dominion—to shaping this world into one forged by blood and magic.”

Silas steps forward, voice razor-sharp. “She is not a prize. Not a weapon for you to wield. Not a womb for your conquest or your enjoyment. She is my mate. And I swear to the gods, Damon—you will never touch her again. Not with your hand. Not with your will. Not even with your gaze.”

The rage that radiates from him is volcanic. Alive. A thing with claws.

“You’ve already left too many scars. Especially on her. Mentally and physically.”

Damon laughs, cold and cutting. “She should’ve been obedient. Would’ve saved her the agony. However, her screams and begging were exquisite.”

He cocks his head, gaze narrowing. “Tell me, Silas—do you even know what she is? Truly? Not even her precious pack understands. The White Wolf is more than a legend. She’s a remnant of something ancient. A relic of war and domination. She’s the only being who can give birth to a new breed of monsters with power beyond comprehension. And I’m the only one who can wield that.”

Silas lowers his voice to a growl. “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

Damon smirks. “That was the plan, dear brother.”

But before he can move, the forest shatters.

Wolves burst from the tree line, snarling, howling—an avalanche of fur and fang. Our wolves. The warning worked.

Evergreen. Lunar. Midnight Moon.

Our army crashes into the rogues with explosive force, a tidal wave of loyalty and fury. Damon’s forces reel back, stunned by the sudden onslaught.

And just like that, the quiet of dawn is swallowed by the chaos of justice as well as vengeance.