Nicero released my wrist, his expression unreadable as he examined the vessel. “He’s stable,” he said. “For now.”
Relief shattered me.
I pressed my forehead to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you.”
Silence answered me.
I looked up.
Nicero was watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
“You understand what you’ve done,” he said slowly. “Your bloodline is now marked by Blackfang magic. Silvermoon cannot reclaim you even if Kael begged.”
“I don’t belong to them anymore,” I replied.
“No,” he agreed softly. “You belong to the contract now.”
My heart stuttered. “We haven’t—”
“—completed it,” he finished. “But the Moon-root has already recognized your intent. From this moment on, every pack will sense you as mine.”
A chill slid down my spine. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He crouched before me, eyes level with mine. “It was always part of it. You simply chose not to hear it.”
For a moment, fear threatened to rise.
Then I remembered the cold silence of the ritual chamber. Kael’s eyes. Lyra’s smile.
I straightened. “Then let them sense it. I’m done begging for permission to survive.”
Something dark and approving flickered across Nicero’s face.