The night air cracked with howls.
The scent of trespassers was thick—ash, steel, and a perfume she hadn't smelled since before the rejection.
Damien.
Seraphina's breath caught in her throat as she stepped out onto the palace balcony, black silk clinging to her skin, the new mark on her chest still searing from Lucian's bite. The rogue kingdom was under lockdown, patrols tightening. The blood moon had vanished.
She could feel it.
Something was coming.
Lucian stormed into the war chamber. "We have three bodies on the southern border. Slashed throats. No scent trail."
Seraphina turned slowly. "No scent? That's High Bloodline magic."
His jaw clenched. "They want to test our walls. I'll give them blood."
She stared at the map, eyes hardening. "It's not just scouts."
Lucian looked at her, sharp. "You felt something?"
"I felt him. Damien."
The name made Lucian's magic crackle across his skin. "He's not your mate anymore."
"He never was. Not truly."
Lucian stalked forward, crowding her against the stone table. "Then why does the idea of him still burn in you?"
Seraphina pushed him back, eyes glowing. "Because you're not the only one haunted by your past. I lived mine. I bled for mine."
Midnight fell like a blade.
The royal guards were dead before they could shift.
A shadow slipped through the throne room—tall, cold, dressed in white and gold.
The Executioner.
And behind him…
"Hello, Seraphina."
Her breath caught.
Damien.
Older. Crueler. Still beautiful in that heartbreak way that made her want to scream. He wore his alpha bloodline mark like a badge across his collarbone.
She took a step forward.
"You left me in the woods," she said. "You let them tell me I was worthless. A half-blood freak."
Damien's smile was slow. "And now you've become exactly what they feared."
Lucian stormed into the chamber, fangs bared, claws extended. "Touch her, and I'll rip out your spine."
The Executioner laughed. "Still feral. Still broken."
Lucian didn't respond. He just moved.
The fight was brutal.
Lucian vs. the Executioner. Shadow against silver.
Damien grabbed Seraphina mid-shift, slamming her into the pillar. "You think you belong here?" he hissed. "You think you're some rogue queen?"
Her claws slashed across his chest.
"I am," she spat. "And you're the fool who lost me."
But then—
He whispered, "They have your mother. The Council."
Time stopped.
Seraphina froze, heart pounding. "You're lying."
"She's alive. And if you take the throne fully, if you complete the crowning ceremony under the eclipse… they'll kill her."
Lucian snarled behind them, blood dripping down his face. "What did you say?"
Damien smirked. "Your mate's not so heartless after all."
Lucian lunged—but Seraphina screamed, "STOP!"
The air split.
Witches' fire exploded from her body—silver and red. It threw all three men back.
Her eyes glowed like stormlight. "I will not be used. Not by mates. Not by kings. Not by bloodlines."
Later.
Lucian stitched his wounds silently as Seraphina paced the chamber.
"You believe him," Lucian finally said.
"I believe my mother might be alive. And I'm going to find out."
Lucian's voice was ragged. "If you go after her, the Council will use you. If you don't, they'll burn her in front of the packs."
Seraphina turned, fierce. "Then let them come. I'll burn the fucking Council myself."
Lucian rose, walking to her, gripping her face. "You're not alone anymore."
She leaned in, forehead pressed to his. "Then stand with me. Even when I turn this world into fire."