Kade steps closer, his voice dropping to a low snarl. “It wasn’t about me. It was never about choosing me. The only reason you turned on Galen was because you saw Zara. You thought she’d accept your wife, and you convinced yourself that it would mean I would too. That it would make me forgive you.”
Darius’s smile vanishes, his expression sharpening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Kade presses, his voice trembling with anger. “You didn’t betray Galen because he was wrong or because of what he did to me. Tell me it wasn’t because you saw an opening.”
“I don’t want Zara. I don’t need anyone to justify my choices. I turned on Galen because I saw what he was and what he’d become. I saw Zara, Kade. And I saw you too.”
Kade’s brows furrow, his anger faltering for a brief second.
“I saw the way you looked at her,” Darius continues, his voice quieter but no less intense. “And for the first time in years, I knew I could trust you. You’d found something more than yourself. Something powerful. Something worth fighting for. And I thought…” His voice tightens, a rare glimpse of vulnerability breaking through. “I thought that if you could see her, if you could find what I had with my wife, then maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t lost you completely.”
Kade’s throat works, but his words don’t come.
Their conversation settles over me like a dark fog and I step closer to the door, increasingly uncertain whether I should intrude. Kade and Darius aren’t just tearing into each other. They’re unraveling years of secrets, lies, and half-truths. My heart beats louder with every second, the sound filling my ears until it threatens to drown out their voices.
This isn’t just about me.
It’s never been just about me.
I could stay in the shadows, safe from their notice, but the thought tastes bitter. A witch who doesn’t claim her space isn’t a witch at all; she’s prey, waiting to be devoured. No. I won’t be the thing they argue over without daring to have my say. I’ve spent too long in the shadows, too long without a voice. This is my chance to speak and be heard, and I can’t afford to waste it.
I push the door open, its heavy wood groaning in protest. Both warlocks turn toward me, surprise flickering across their faces like lightning in a storm.
“I’m here,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. “So maybe instead of speaking about me like I’m some spell gone awry, you start including me in the conversation.”
Darius’s eyebrow arches and Kade’s expression softens, his gaze locking onto mine like I’m offering him a lifeline. Theroom feels charged, the tension between them so thick it might as well be a spell of obligation, its binding ready to snap and destroy the pair of them.
The air carries the faint tang of ozone, remnants of some spell gone cold, and the oppressive weight of unspoken truths presses against my skin. Shadows from the flickering firelight twist and stretch along the stone walls, clawing toward the ceiling like restless spirits.
“Don’t you think we have bigger things to worry about right now?” I ask, stepping further into the room. “Galen’s dead, and I’m betting there are a few warlocks out there who might consider seizing power in his absence.”
My words hang in the air like a blade poised to strike.
Both warlocks stiffen, their boots digging into the rug as if anchoring themselves. Kade’s gaze sharpens, his dark eyes boring into me with an intensity that’s both searching and guarded. Darius’s expression remains stoic, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays the irritation simmering just beneath the surface.
“That’s going to be a fucking disaster, even if we survive it.”
I don’t miss the way Darius’s jaw tightens and I press on, stepping closer to the hearth, where the flickering fire casts harsh shadows across their faces.
“And that doesn’t even begin to solve any of our other problems.”
Darius’s lips press into a thin line, his silence laced with annoyance, but there’s something else in his eyes and it looks like a grudging respect. Kade shifts uneasily and plays with his dark hair, his jaw clenching and unclenching, like he’s debating whether to speak or stay silent. For once, he doesn’t interrupt. Neither of them does, and I revel in the small victory of forcing them to listen.
“Or would you two rather keep fighting over who’s upset who while the rest of the world burns?” I add, my tone sharp enough to cut.
Kade exhales slowly, as though I’ve punched the air from his lungs. Darius finally looks away, his gaze dropping to the floor like he’s conceding something, even if only to himself.
I don’t let the pause linger too long.
“Galen’s death creates a power vacuum that up ends the balance you’ve been so desperately clinging to for centuries. It destabilizes everything, and not just for the warlocks. The witches’ world is falling apart, and you both know it. Warlocks have been stealing our magic for far too fucking long and we won’t suffer it much longer. I might have been the first to rise up, but I won’t be the last. There’s going to be a war, Kade, unless we do something to stop it.”
Kade frowns, his brows knitting together. “You’re suggesting…”
“I’m suggesting,” I cut in, “that the way things have been done needs to change. Galen and his death prove that the old ways don’t work. Witches shouldn’t have to rely on your arbitrary rules for protection. The balance has to be shared—truly shared—or it’ll fall apart completely. If that happens, we’re all screwed, warlocks included.”
The room falls silent, the air heavy like the sky before a rainstorm. It’s as if the walls themselves are holding their breath, waiting for the first crack of thunder. The stillness comes alive, taut as a branch bowed too far in the wind, ready to snap at the slightest push.
Darius shifts first, his movement breaking the stillness. A low sound escapes him, almost a hum of agreement, and both Kade and I snap our heads toward him. He straightens, pushing off the wall where he’d been leaning, his expression unreadable but his tone firm.
