He stood at the opposite end, alone, his once immaculate armor scraped and cracked, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion and something dangerously close to regret.
“Elira,” he said hoarsely.
I didn’t answer.
“I didn’t know,” he continued. “About the blood-keys. About Lyra. She lied to me. She’s been manipulating the Council —”
“You saw what you wanted to see,” I replied calmly. “That’s not manipulation. That’s choice.”
He took a step closer. The wards flared but did not repel him.
“Come back,” Kael said, voice breaking. “The pack is unraveling. The elders question my authority. Lyra—she’s unstable. I need you.”
I laughed.
It startled him.
“You don’t need me,” I said. “You need someone to absorb the consequences of your decisions.”
His eyes flicked to my shoulder. “The mark—”
“Is dead,” I said. “And so is the woman you discarded.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy as the chasm below.
“I was wrong,” Kael whispered. “About everything.”
“You were cruel,” I replied. “Those are not the same.”
He fell to his knees.
The sight didn’t satisfy me the way I’d once imagined. It only made him smaller.