Elara POV
The messenger arrived the next morning.
He came under a white flag. I watched from the window as he walked through the camp alone. Tall. Pale. Moving with that impossible vampire grace.
He carried a leather bag. Nothing else. No weapons. No guards.
Just one man walking calmly through wolves who wanted him dead.
Mira brought him to my room an hour later. Kaelen wasn't there. Off dealing with something on the battlements. But I could feel him anyway. That constant pressure at the back of my mind. His emotions bleeding through the silver mark.
Anger. Suspicion. Possessiveness that made my teeth ache.
The vampire bowed when he entered. His dark eyes studied me with cool intelligence.
"Lady Elara. I'm Dorian Vex. Lord Theron's strategist."
"Spy, you mean."
A faint smile touched his lips. "That too, on occasion. But today I come bearing gifts." He set the leather bag on the bed. "And information you'll want to hear."
Mira moved closer. One hand on the dagger at her belt. But Dorian made no threatening moves. He simply opened the bag.
Pulled out a journal.
Old. Worn. The leather cover was cracked and stained with something dark. Something that looked like—
"Blood," Dorian confirmed. He caught my expression. "Your mother's blood, to be precise."
The room tilted.
"My mother?"
"Her name was Elise Thornwood." He held out the journal. "She was involved in a project. An experiment. She and your father were attempting to break the bond system."
I stared at him. At the journal. At Mira, who looked as shocked as I felt.
"That's impossible. My parents died when I was a baby. I don't even remember them."
"Because they hid you." Dorian's voice was gentle. Almost sad. "This journal was meant for you. If you survived what they created."
My hands shook as I took it. The leather was soft under my fingers. Still warm. Like someone had been holding it recently.
I opened it slowly.
The first page was covered in neat handwriting. Small. Precise. A woman's hand.
If you're reading this, my darling girl, then you've awakened. And I am so, so sorry.
My vision blurred. I blinked hard. Forced myself to keep reading.
Project Twin-Flame was supposed to save us. Your father and I thought—if we could create a bloodline capable of severing bonds, of breaking the chains that bind wolves and vampires, we could end the cycle. End the wars. Give people a choice.
But we were wrong.
The magic doesn't just sever bonds. It unmakes them. And in unmaking, it creates something new. Something neither wolf nor vampire can control.
You, Elara. You're the key.
My breath caught. I flipped through more pages. Diagrams of magical patterns. Notes on bond theory. Warnings scrawled in increasingly frantic handwriting.
Then, near the end:
Do not let them complete the ritual. The twin-flame isn't meant to fulfill the prophecy. You're meant to break it. We failed. Please, Elara. Don't let our mistakes destroy you.
The last page was one sentence. Written in shaking letters.
Trust no one. Not even yourself.
I closed the journal. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it.
"What ritual?" My voice came out barely a whisper.
Dorian's expression was grave. "The Anchor Law. If two mates are marked but the bond isn't consummated within thirty days, both die. It's an old rule. Designed to force commitment."
Thirty days.
The words echoed in my head.
"How long has it been?"
"Three days since the marking," Mira said quietly. "Which means you have twenty-seven left."
Twenty-seven days.
To consummate a bond. With Kaelen or Theron.
Or die.
"And if I complete the bond with one?" I forced the words out. "What happens to the other?"
Dorian didn't look away. "They die. Instantly. The magic can't sustain dual bonds. The moment you choose one, the other's mark will kill them."
The words hung in the air. Heavy. Final.
I stared at my wrists. At the two brands burning there. Silver and crimson. Wolf and vampire.
A choice that wasn't a choice.
Kaelen or Theron.
One king's life for another.
Or my own death if I refused.
"There has to be another way," I said.
"That's why I brought the journal." Dorian leaned forward. His voice dropped. "Your mother believed you could break the system. Not just sever bonds, but rewrite the rules entirely. If she was right—if you can figure out how—then maybe none of you have to die."
Hope flared in my chest. Sharp. Painful.
"And Theron sent you to tell me this? Out of kindness?"
"Theron sent me because he wants you alive." Dorian's smile was thin. "Alive and powerful and his. He doesn't care about breaking the system. He built it. But he's willing to let you try if it means keeping you."
"And Kaelen?"
"Kaelen wants you safe. Which means keeping you here where Theron can't reach you." Dorian stood. "So you have a choice, Lady Elara. Stay here and let Kaelen protect you until the thirty days run out. Or come with me. Let Theron teach you to wield the power your parents gave you."
"Or," Mira cut in. Her voice was hard. "She stays here and we figure it out ourselves. Without either king manipulating her."
Dorian inclined his head. "Also an option. Though I should mention—Kaelen's council is already pressuring him to complete the bond. They see you as a threat. A weapon that could tear the pack apart. How long do you think he'll be able to resist them?"
The door slammed open.
Kaelen stood there. Fury radiating from him in waves. His eyes locked onto Dorian. His voice dropped to a growl.
"Get. Out."
Dorian bowed. Calm. Unruffled. "Of course, Alpha. I've delivered my message." He glanced at me one last time. "Think carefully, Lady Elara. Twenty-seven days. Use them wisely."
Then he was gone. Moving past Kaelen with casual ease.
Kaelen turned that burning stare on me.
"What did he say?"
I held up the journal. My mother's journal. Stained with her blood.
"That my parents tried to break the bond system. That I'm supposed to finish what they started." I met his eyes. "And that if I don't choose one of you in twenty-seven days, I die. And if I do choose, the other one dies."
His jaw clenched. "We'll find another way."
"Will we?" I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Or will you just decide for me? Complete the bond before I can argue?"
"I would never—"
"You already did." I gestured at the cracked wall. The scorch marks from yesterday. "You kissed me without asking. You're in my head every second. Feeling everything. Don't pretend you're giving me choice when you've already claimed space I never offered."
He looked like I'd slapped him.
"I'm trying to save your life."
"By trapping me."
"By giving you time." He crossed the room. Stopped in front of me. "Thirty days, Elara. We have thirty days to figure out what you are and how to break this curse. I'm not asking you to love me. I'm not even asking you to trust me. But I am asking you to let me help."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to scream that help and control weren't the same thing.
But I was so tired.
And the marks on my wrists burned like accusations.
Twenty-seven days.
To break a system. Or condemn someone to death.
"Fine," I whispered. "But on my terms. I stay because I choose to. Not because you're forcing me. And the moment you try to take that choice away—"
"I won't." His voice was rough. Honest. "I swear it."
I wanted to believe him.
But my mother's final words echoed in my head.
Trust no one. Not even yourself.