And for the first time in hours, I could breathe again.
Her eyes, wide and shimmering, locked on mine. Her small hand lifted, trembling, brushing against my jaw despite the blood still slicking my skin. That touch broke something in me, the violence giving way to raw need to protect.
The door behind us creaked, boots heavy on the marble. I turned instantly, baring fangs, but the sharp silhouette in the doorway was no demon.
Volken.
He stepped in like a shadow given form, his eyes scanning the room, landing on Sorcha, then me. His gaze was steady, but the muscle ticking in his jaw told me the news he carried wasn’t good.
“They didn’t reach Sorcha,” he said first, his voice flat, but beneath it there was a weight, a thread of relief. “Good.”
I tightened my grip on Sorcha, pulling her closer against me, daring him to bring more chaos into this room when she was still trembling in my arms.
Volken’s eyes flicked to me, unreadable as always. “Malakai was sighted tonight.”
The name was a knife across my chest. Every nerve in my body snapped taut, my fangs lengthening again in reflex. “Where?” I demanded.
Volken shook his head once. “We couldn’t hold him. He’s slippery and was gone by the time Viking and I got there.” His gaze sharpened, and then he added, “But he left you a message.”
I stiffened. “Say it.”
“It’s meant to be a present.” Volken’s tone didn’t change, but his words landed like grenades. “Dropped off at the gates witha big red bow tied around his neck.” He paused, letting it settle. “Keller.”
Sorcha gasped against me, her body tensing. My vision blurred.
Volken continued, calm as a surgeon’s cut. “There was a note pinned to him. ‘Don’t have a use for him any longer. You can have him now.’”
The growl that ripped from my throat has Sorcha placing her hand over my heart. My claws dug into my palms until they broke skin. “He dares…”
Sorcha’s hand pressed against my chest, weak but steady. The sound of her voice was soft, but it cut through the rage threatening to devour me whole. “Lucien…”
Her voice was enough to make me bite down on the fury and swallow it, just for her. Keller, Malakai, all of it could burn later. Right now, she was here, alive and breathing.
I lowered my head until my forehead rested against hers. My voice was hoarse when I asked, “How are you feeling, baby?”
Her lashes fluttered, her body trembling but her gaze clear when it met mine. “Shaken and tired. But… safe.”
The words should’ve soothed me. They only made me hold her tighter, because no matter what she said, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time Malakai tried to rip her from me.
But tonight, she was in my arms. And that was enough to keep me from tearing the world apart.
Chapter 21
Six months pregnant.
Sometimes I still couldn’t believe those words applied to me. That I was here safe and alive, part of something I’d never thought I’d have or that was even possible.
After the attack, Roman had insisted we all leave our separate homes and gather under one roof. At first, it had felt strange, suffocating even, this constant closeness, this many predators breathing under the same walls. But the mansion had space, it had endless rooms, endless halls and slowly, we had adapted.
Now it felt like a fortress, a living thing that breathed safety into my skin every time I woke.
I’d grown close to Layla in these months. She was soft where I was sharp, calm where I was stubborn, and together we found a rhythm. She’d let me help with Aleksander, the little boy stealing all of our hearts, and I’d found I loved him fiercely. He was innocence in the middle of blood and war. When I held him, sometimes I thought of the tiny life inside me, kicking harder every day, reminding me it was real.
Lucien had been… everything. Overbearing, yes. Paranoid, definitely. But caring in a way I’d never known a man could be. He never let me feel alone. Every detail of my comfort, my safety, my happiness had been seen to with a strategist’s precision. And it wasn’t just him.
The other brothers, all of them, looked at me and Layla like we weren’t just mates, but their family too. Protected, cared for, watched over. Viking had a way of teasing that made me laugh when the weight of everything pressed too hard. Draugr’s silence was a comfort, a promise that nothing would touch me while he was near. Volken, sharp and controlled, was the quiet balance Lucien sometimes needed. And Roman… Roman was their anchor, and by extension, mine.
We weren’t outsiders anymore. We were a family.
