The ruins of the cathedral still smoke when Zane makes his vow.
Not to the pack.
Not to the land.
To me.
He holds me in the hollow of broken stone where prayers once rotted into commands. His hands tremble, not from weakness, but from the effort of keeping his fury caged long enough to hear my breathing.
“You’re safe,” he whispers for the third time.
The word safe feels foreign in my chest.
Jason kneels beside us, hands hovering but not touching, reading the frantic lattice of corrupted sigils still fading from my skin.
“The receiver is dormant,” he says tightly. “For now. They keyed it to the heir’s field, not your body. It will wake when they push enough signal through belief again.”
Zane’s head lifts slowly.
Gold fire bleeds into his irises.
“Then we erase every mouth that kn
