“Neither will I,” I promise, my gaze steady and unflinching. “But it won’t come to that.”
Without another word, he turns on his heel and storms out, the door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the walls. Darius lingers and the air thickens again as the silence radiating from my brother, who says little is louder than any scream or roar of rage.
“She’s a problem, Kade.”
I nod.
“Galen will look for any excuse to kill her.” He swallows. “Or take her from you. Watch your back. Hers too.” His eyes flick to Zara. “And if you have any fucking sense, you’ll watch his and do exactly what he tells you to.”
Darius hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Zara. There’s a flicker of doubt, or maybe calculation,in his gaze. Finally, after a tense pause, he follows Galen out, leaving the room heavy with an oppressive silence.
As soon as they’re gone, I release a slow breath, the crackling energy around me subsiding into a simmering calm. My muscles relax just a little, but the tension doesn’t entirely leave my body.
I turn back to Zara, finding her still watching me with narrowed eyes, her expression a carefully guarded mask.
“You alright?” I ask.
Her head nods yes but the way her fingers whiten as they grip the bedsheets screams no. “Why didn’t you tell them? About the blood weave?”
I exhale and my shoulders fall as the tension releases and resignation sets in. Zara’s introduction to my brothers wasn’t what I wanted, but it’s far from the worst that could have happened. She’s already seen enough to know that survival here is a complex, dangerous dance of alliances and betrayals. She’s caught on to the messy web of loyalties and secrets that bind us, the shifting allegiances that can turn friends and family into enemies overnight.
“The blood weave complicates things now our magic has merged, Zara,” I finally admit. My voice is low, heavy with weariness. “It adds risks I don’t want them to know about. Not right now. Their reaction was explosive enough without pouring gasoline onto that inferno.”
She glances away, her gaze fixed on some distant point across the room. Her expression softens just a fraction, but the tension in her grip remains.
“I’m not a liability,” she mutters, more to herself than to me, the defiance flickering again, stubborn and unyielding.
“No, you’re not.” I meet her eyes, surprised that a flicker of respect and regret passes through me. “But survival isn’t always about being strong, Zara. It’s about who plays the gamebest, who you trust, and how useful you are to others around you. It’s about keeping your cards close to your chest and playing them at exactly the right time.”
She nods slowly, the fight in her gaze wavering but not entirely disappearing. Zara’s already seen some of the twisted realities of this world, the way loyalty can mean betrayal, alliances can fracture, and trust is a fragile, fleeting currency.
“I didn’t intend for this to happen,” I say, my voice a quiet scream of reassurance. “I didn’t intend to start caring about you and I don’t know what to do about it. I didn’t mean for this to get so complicated, but it is, and I’ll pay whatever price I must to keep you safe. We should try to break the blood weave, or at least make it easier to bear. For both of us.”
Zara’s learning that loyalty here is a transaction, built on shifting interests and the cold calculus of power. Every gesture, every alliance, every secret handshake is a gamble, a move in a game with no guarantees.
“I will protect you, whether we are bound or not.”
She doesn’t respond, but her grip on the bedsheets loosens just a little as I slip underneath them. The room still feels heavy with unspoken truths and precarious decisions, but for now, at least, there’s a flicker of something between us. Our fragile alliance is strengthening, built on necessity rather than trust, but we’re learning to work together and that’s good enough for now. We lie down and stare up at the ceiling, feeling the blood weave wrap around us and when her fingers reach for mine, I wonder if she’s starting to care about me.
