He Rejected Me, Then Claimed Our Son

Chapter Eighteen Beneath the Burning Roof

The roof collapsed between us.

One moment, Cassian stood inside the burning house with the fallen beam braced above his shoulders, his arms wrapped in fire and silver roots.

The next, the ceiling came down.

Wood split. Stone cracked. Flames roared.

Smoke swallowed him whole. “No!”

The scream tore out of me so violently my throat burned.

I lunged toward the collapsing house, but Ronan’s arms locked around my waist from behind and dragged me backward into the street.

“Let me go!” I screamed.

“You cannot go back in there.” “Cassian!”

My voice broke on his name.

The front of Elsa’s blue house caved inward. Burning beams crashed into the room where Cassian had stood seconds before. Sparks exploded into the smoky sky. People shouted and scattered as heat blasted across the street.

The silver roots that had stretched from Cassian’s arm back toward the sanctuary flickered through the flames like lightning trapped in vines.

Then they went dark. My heart stopped. “No,” I whispered.

Lior cried from Mara’s arms.

That sound snapped something inside me back into place. My son.

My son was alive.

Mara stood several feet away, soot-streaked and wild-eyed, with Lior strapped securely against her chest beneath her cloak. Tomas had Elsa in his arms. The twins clung to a sanctuary guard, coughing and crying. Ronan held me upright, his grip firm but not cruel.

Everyone was alive. Except maybe Cassian. The thought gutted me.

I twisted hard against Ronan’s hold. “Let me go.”

“Nyra.”

I slammed my elbow back into his ribs. He grunted but did not release me.

“I said let me go!” The street trembled.

The remaining windows of the blue house shattered outward. Ronan’s arms loosened—not from obedience, but surprise. Silver heat surged beneath my skin.

The fire turned toward me. Not away.

Toward.

As if it heard my grief and wanted to answer. Mara’s eyes widened.

“Nyra, breathe.” I could not.

Cassian was in there.

The man who had broken me. The man who had denied our son.

The man who had carried my unconscious body through blood and smoke.

The man who had taken the seal from my wrists.

The man who had torn moonfire roots across half a burning town because I had walked into danger.

The man who had looked at me and said, Always too late. No.

Not this time.

I ripped free of Ronan and staggered toward the flames. Ronan caught my wrist.

“Stop.”

I spun on him.

Power cracked between us.

He released me instantly, his green-gold eyes widening. Not fear.

Recognition.

“Do not touch me,” I said.

My voice did not sound fully human. Ronan lowered both hands.

“Then listen. If you run into that house, Lior loses both of you.” The words struck hard enough to stop my feet.

I turned toward Mara.

Lior’s little face was red with crying. His tiny fists waved against the blanket. His silver eyes were squeezed shut, but light leaked from beneath his lashes.

My son needed me. Cassian needed—

I looked back at the burning wreckage.

A black beam shifted. My heart leapt. “Cassian?”

No answer. Only flames. Only smoke.

Only the horrible groaning of a house preparing to fall completely.

Tomas lowered Elsa carefully onto the cobblestones. Her face was streaked with soot and tears. One leg twisted beneath her at a painful angle, but she pushed herself upright anyway.

“Where is he?” she coughed. I could not answer.

Ronan turned to two Shadowpine wolves. “Circle the back. Find another opening.” They shifted instantly and ran.

Mara moved closer with Lior. “Nyra, take him.”

My hands shook as she placed my son back into my arms.

The moment Lior touched my chest, the wild power inside me steadied. Not disappeared.

Steadied.

His tiny body pressed against my heart, warm and alive, and I remembered how to breathe. Barely.

“Cassian,” I whispered again. Lior’s crying softened.

His eyes opened.

Silver light spilled over the street.

Every flame in Elsa’s house bent toward us. People gasped and backed away.

The fire stretched high, twisting into a column of black and orange, then silver at the edges. Inside the flames, something moved.

A shape. A wolf? No.

A man.

My breath caught.

The burning doorway exploded outward. Cassian stumbled through it.

Alive. Barely.

His shirt was gone. His chest was blackened with soot and streaked with blood. Burns marked his arms where the fire had eaten into him. The silver roots still wrapped one forearm, but now they were cracked and smoking, as if dragging them away from the sanctuary had nearly torn them apart.

He took one step into the street. Then another.

His golden eyes found me. Only then did his knees buckle. “Cassian!”

This time, no one stopped me.

I ran to him with Lior in my arms.

Cassian hit the ground hard, one hand braced against the cobblestones, head bowed, breath ragged. Smoke curled from his skin. Blood dripped from his mouth. His whole body shook with the effort to stay upright.

I dropped to my knees in front of him. The heat coming off him was unbearable. “Cassian.”

His eyes lifted slowly.

For half a second, I saw the Alpha mask try to form. Pride.

Control.

Pain hidden beneath command. Then it broke.

All that remained was him. “Are you hurt?” he asked. I stared at him.

The laugh that left me was almost a sob.

“You are half-burned and still asking me that?” His gaze dropped to Lior.

Our son was quiet now. Watching him.

Cassian’s face changed.

Every time he looked at Lior, something in him seemed to kneel before the boy, whether his body did or not.

“He is safe,” I said. Cassian closed his eyes.

Relief moved through him so visibly it hurt to witness.

“Good.”

The silver roots around his arm pulsed. He flinched, but only slightly.

I looked at them. “You tore the seal.”

His mouth curved faintly, though pain tightened every line of his face. “I stretched it.”

“That is not better.” “It reached.” “Cassian.”

He looked at me again. There was ash in his hair. Blood on his lips.

Firelight in his eyes.

“I heard you scream,” he said. The words came out rough.

Simple. Ruining.

My throat closed.

“I screamed because the roof fell.”

“No.” His gaze held mine. “You screamed because you thought I was under it.” I could not speak.

Because he was right.

Because the sound that had come from me had not been the scream of a woman worried about a useful shield.

It had been the scream of a woman afraid to lose someone she still loved. I hated that he knew.

I hated that I knew.

Ronan approached slowly, stopping a few steps away. “The seal,” he said. “If the roots are broken—”

“They are not broken,” Cassian growled.

But his voice weakened halfway through the sentence. The roots pulsed again.

This time, the pulse traveled down his arm, across the cobblestones, and back toward the distant sanctuary. The glowing line flickered weakly through the smoke.

Father Iren appeared at the end of the street, limping badly, supported by a young guard. The moment he saw Cassian, his face tightened.

“Alpha, what did you do?” Cassian exhaled. “Improvised.”

Father Iren muttered something that sounded like a prayer and an insult. He knelt beside Cassian and examined the roots.

“They are unstable.” Ronan’s jaw tightened.

“If the road opens again—” “It will not,” Cassian said.

The words had command in them. But underneath, I felt the lie.

Not intentional.

Hope pretending to be certainty.

The lamps in the street flickered silver. Cassian saw.

So did I.

He looked at me.

I whispered, “Do not lie to me.” Pain flashed across his face. He nodded once.

Father Iren’s voice turned grim.

“The anchor cannot be stretched this far. It was meant to hold at the seal point.” “He came for me,” I said.

The words left me before I could guard them. Everyone went quiet.

Cassian’s eyes softened. Ronan looked away.

Mara, still soot-covered and armed, stepped beside Elsa and said nothing for once. Father Iren sighed.

“Yes. And now the seal is feeding faster because it must hold across distance.” My stomach went cold.

“How much faster?” He did not answer. I hated that.

Cassian shifted, trying to rise.

I placed one hand against his shoulder. He froze beneath my touch.

So did I. Skin.

Warm. Burning. Alive.

The contact sent a rush of memory through me: his body over mine in the dark, his hand wrapped around mine, his voice whispering my name like prayer. Then another memory followed: his cold eyes in the great hall.

I pulled my hand back. The absence hurt too. Cassian lowered his gaze. “I am sorry.”

“Stop saying that while bleeding on the street.” His mouth twitched weakly.

“There is a right time?” “No.”

Mara coughed. “As moving as this is, we still have cursed wolves setting fires.” Ronan turned toward the street.

The east quarter was still burning in places, but the shadow fire around Elsa’s house had weakened when the road sealed. Human bucket lines were gaining ground now. Sanctuary guards moved civilians toward the central square. Nightfall and Shadowpine wolves fought side by side near the market road, forcing the remaining cursed wolves back.

For now, the attack was slowing. Not over.

But slowing.

A cry rose from the far street. “More at the north well!”

Mara looked at me. “You are not going.” I opened my mouth.

She pointed a knife at me. “No. I will actually stab the ground in front of you.” “I was not going to—”

“You were thinking heroically. I could smell it.” Ronan said, “I will take the north well.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed.

“You are not taking command of this town.” Ronan looked down at him.

“You are kneeling in the street attached to a glowing leash.” Cassian’s growl was immediate.

I shot Ronan a glare.

He gave me a mild look. “Was that rude?” “Yes.”

“Was it inaccurate?”

I hated that the answer was no.

Ronan turned to his wolves and gave a sharp whistle. Three Shadowpine warriors broke from the market road and followed him north.

Cassian watched him go with murder in his eyes. “Do not start,” I said.

His gaze flicked to me. “He wants something.”

“Everyone wants something.” “I mean from you.”

My patience snapped.

“Then that makes two of you.” He went still.

The words hurt him. They hurt me too.

But they were true enough to remain.

Father Iren wrapped both hands around Cassian’s rooted arm and whispered a prayer. The silver roots brightened, then tightened. Cassian hissed, his claws digging into the cobbles.

Lior whimpered.

I looked down immediately. “It is okay, little light.” Father Iren glanced at him.

“The child may calm the anchor.”

“No,” Cassian and I said at the same time. Our eyes met.

The accidental unity struck the air between us. Father Iren lifted his hands. “I said may. Not should.” “Do not use him,” Cassian said.

“He is not a tool,” I added. Father Iren looked between us.

For the first time, his tired face warmed. “No. He is not.”

Elsa coughed nearby. I turned sharply.

Tomas was helping her sit against the low stone wall across the street. Her dress was burned at the hem, her face streaked with soot, her injured leg stretched stiffly in front of her. The twins clung to her sides.

I stood too fast and nearly fell. Mara caught my elbow.

“I hate how predictable you are.”

I crossed to Elsa with Lior in my arms. “Elsa.”

She looked up at me, exhausted and alive. Then she smiled faintly.

“You came back.” The words broke me.

I knelt beside her, tears filling my eyes. “So did you.”

“Foolish of both of us.”

The little boy beside her looked at Lior. “Is that the moon baby?”

Elsa made a strangled sound.

His sister elbowed him. “You are not supposed to say it.” I should have been frightened.

Instead, I laughed. A real laugh.

Small and cracked, but real.

The little boy looked offended. “He glowed.”

“Many babies glow,” Mara said solemnly behind me. The girl frowned. “No, they don’t.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

Elsa shook her head weakly. “Mara.” “What? I am comforting the children.” “You are confusing them.”

“Also useful.”

For one fragile moment, life felt almost normal.

Then Lior reached one tiny hand from the blanket toward Elsa. Elsa’s face softened.

“Hello, little light.” My breath caught. That name.

She had not heard me call him that. Lior’s fingers flexed.

A soft silver glow touched Elsa’s injured leg. She gasped.

Tomas jerked forward. “What happened?” Elsa stared down.

The swelling around her ankle began to fade. Not fully.

But enough that she moved it with a shocked cry. I pulled Lior gently back.

“No, baby. Not too much.” The glow vanished.

Everyone nearby stared.

A few humans dropped to their knees. My stomach twisted.

“No,” I said quickly. “Do not do that.” The little boy whispered, “He fixed her.”

“He helped,” Elsa said firmly, glaring at the kneeling humans. “And anyone who turns this baby into a shrine answers to me.”

Several people awkwardly stood. I loved her for that.

Cassian had watched the whole thing from the street. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were wet. I wondered what he saw.

A miracle? A weapon? His son?

Maybe all three.

Father Iren helped him stand slowly. The silver roots dragged behind his arm like a burning chain, still stretching toward the sanctuary. Cassian’s face went pale, but he stayed upright.

He took one step toward us. Then stopped.

Waiting.

The waiting hurt. I looked away.

A horn sounded from the north. Ronan.

Not warning.

Signal.

Mara tilted her head. “North well is clear.” Another horn sounded from the west.

Shadowpine again.

Then a Nightfall howl rose from the market road. The remaining cursed wolves were retreating.

Briar Glen had not fallen.

The street began to shift from battle to aftermath. Fires being smothered. Injured being carried. Names being called. The living searching for the living and the dead becoming heavier with every unanswered shout.

A young woman ran past us sobbing for her father. A guard carried a body covered in a flour sack.

The triumph inside me died before it could breathe. This was not victory.

This was survival with smoke in its lungs.

Cassian moved closer, slow enough that I could stop him. “Nyra.”

I kept my eyes on the burning bakery. “What?”

“The town is clearing.” “For now.”

“Yes.”

He hesitated.

“I need to return to the seal point.” I turned then.

The roots on his arm pulsed weakly. His face was pale beneath the soot. Father Iren was right.

The seal was feeding faster because Cassian had torn himself across distance to reach me. My throat tightened.

“Then go.”

The words came out colder than I meant. Cassian’s expression did not change.

But I felt it. The hurt. Faint.

Bitter.

Not through the mate bond.

Through the space where the bond used to be, like pain echoing in an empty room. He nodded.

“I will.”

He turned.

And nearly collapsed.

I moved without thinking. So did Mara.

So did Father Iren. But I reached him first.

My free hand caught his side. Heat and blood soaked my palm.

Cassian went rigid beneath my touch.

His hand hovered near my waist, not touching. Never touching without permission now.

Our faces were too close. Smoke drifted between us. His scent surrounded me. Burnt cedar.

Blood. Rain. Male. Alpha. Home. No.

Not home. Not anymore.

His eyes searched mine. “Nyra,” he whispered.

My name in that voice made my pulse betray me. My fingers tightened against his side.

For one dangerous second, the world narrowed to his mouth, the blood at its corner, the memory of how it had once felt against my skin.

Then Lior made a soft sound.

I stepped back so quickly Cassian swayed. Mara steadied him with an annoyed huff.

“I swear, both of you are going to kill me emotionally before the cursed wolves manage physically.”

I pulled Lior higher, cheeks burning. “Help him back.”

Cassian’s eyes stayed on me. “I can walk.”

“You just proved you cannot.”

A faint, pained smile touched his mouth. “There she is.”

The softness in his voice nearly undid me. I looked away.

“Do not.” He nodded.

The smile vanished. “Sorry.”

Mara sighed dramatically. “Tragic. Exhausting. Attractive in a doomed way, but mostly exhausting.”

Cassian blinked at her. I almost laughed again. Almost.

Then a scream rose from the sanctuary. Not outside.

Inside.

Father Iren turned sharply. “What now?”

A sanctuary runner stumbled from the courtyard arch, face pale. “Father!”

He sprinted toward us, nearly tripping over debris. “The seal chamber!”

Cassian straightened despite the pain. The runner bent over, gasping.

“What about it?” Father Iren demanded.

The boy looked at Cassian’s silver-rooted arm. Then at me.

Then at Lior.

“The anchor is holding, but something came through before the road closed.” My blood chilled.

Cassian’s eyes turned gold. Father Iren whispered a prayer. The runner swallowed.

“It is asking for Nyra.”

The street went silent around us. My fingers tightened around Lior. Mara lifted her knives.

Cassian stepped in front of me despite barely standing. “What is asking for her?” he growled.

The runner’s face crumpled with fear. “It looks like a woman.”

My heart stopped.

He shook his head quickly.

“No. Not a woman. A ghost, maybe. Silver hair. White eyes.” The world tilted.

My mother? No.

The runner’s voice dropped. “She says she is Saira Elowen.” Lior’s silver eyes opened.

Every flame in the street bowed toward the sanctuary.

And from somewhere deep beneath the town, a woman began to sing my childhood lullaby.