Chapter 34: THIRTY-FOUR

M A R K O V

The house was a tomb. Every room I entered, I could feel her absence like a physical presence. The scent of her jasmine and rain shampoo still clung to the pillows on our bed. A book she had been reading lay face down on the nightstand, her bookmark, a pressed wildflower, peeking out. Each item was a tiny dagger, twisting in my gut.

I walked past the library, the door now shut tight. I didn't need to open it to see the pictures. They were burned into the back of my eyelids, a constant, torturous slideshow. Her, standing there, her face pale with dawning horror as she looked at the monster I used to be. The monster I still was.

My feet carried me down the stairs, past the kitchen, to the heavy, iron bound door that led to the dungeon. My hand trembled as I placed it on the cold metal. I had spent my life building walls to keep that darkness inside, and in one uncontrolled burst of rage, I had trapped her with it.

I pushed the door open. The air was still stale, the scent of her fear clinging to the stone. The small cot was pushed to one side. I ran my fingers over the rough wall where she must have huddled, and the memories came flooding back, not of her, but of me. Of chains biting into my wrists, of the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, of the face of the one who put me here, smiling.

My beast roared inside me, a symphony of pain and fury. She saw! She knows! It wasn't an accusation, but a cry of despair. The darkness I had tried so hard to hide from her was now exposed. And in my panic, in my pathetic attempt to shove the genie back in the bottle, I had only confirmed her worst fears. I had become him.

I sank to my knees on the cold floor, the place where she had spent the night, and the shame was so absolute it felt like a physical punishment, crushing me. This was my sanctuary. My hell. I had brought my mate, my light, into the heart of my darkness, and then abandoned her there. I was a coward. A monster.

"I have to fix this," I whispered to the empty room. But the words were useless. Fixing this wasn't about a simple apology. It was about unraveling years of trauma and rage. Jade had endured years long trauma and suffering from Mason and his father. She didn't need mine as well.

I pushed myself up, my movements stiff and resolute. There was only one thing to do. The one thing I had sworn I would never do. I had to go back. To the source.

I grabbed my keys from the hook by the door, the metal cold and heavy in my palm. I didn't bother packing a bag. I didn't know how long I would be gone. All I knew was that I couldn't stay here, in this house that was no longer a home without her in it.

My car came to a stop in the familiar house I used to come to as a normal man decades ago. The house of the woman that became my doom.

Saffra.

The witch.

The witch that was once my lover, a purely sexual agreement, nothing more. Until she decided she wanted more.

Saffra was a powerful, ambitious witch. The kind that saw power not as a tool, but as an inheritance. She believed certain bloodlines, like mine, were hers by right to command and control. When I refused to be her puppet, her love turned into a venomous obsession.

She was the one who had captured me. The one who had stripped me of my control and forced the shift, binding my beast to her will. The pictures were her trophies. Documentation of her victory.

She cursed me to a lifetime of monstrosity that only one true love can cure.

As I walked up the cracked stone path to her cottage, the air grew thick and heavy, smelling of dried herbs and something else, something acrid and bitter. The garden, once vibrant and full of life, was now overgrown with thorny vines and poisonous blossoms. Saffra's power had soured.

I didn't knock. I kicked the door open, the old wood splintering under the force.

She was there, standing by a bubbling cauldron in the center of the room, her back to me. She didn't startle. She slowly turned, her face a mask of cold, serene indifference. She looked older, the lines around her eyes deeper, but the cruel intelligence in them was undiminished.

"Markov," she said, her voice a silken purr that sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. "I was wondering when you would come home. Did you bring my new vessel?"

"Cut the shit, Saffra," I snarled, stepping into the room. The dark energy here was a physical weight, pressing in on me. "You're going to undo this. Now."

A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. "Undo what? The gift I gave you? The power that makes you a king? You should be thanking me."

"You made me a monster," I roared, the beast rattling its cage, eager to be let loose. "You took my life from me!"

"I gave you a life!" she shrieked, her composure shattering. "A life beyond the petty squabbles of werewolves! I gave you greatness! And you threw it away for that… that girl. The one from the vision."

My blood ran cold. "What vision?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" she cooed, her smile returning, wider and more malicious than before. "I've seen her. The one who will break my curse. The one whose love will tame your beast." Her eyes glinted with a manic light. "I've seen her face. I know her name. And when I find her, I will drain her of every last drop of power, and your curse will be bound to me. You will be mine, forever."

The room spun. The curse… it wasn't about a true love's kiss. It was a transfer. A pact. Her curse wasn't to be broken, but to be inherited.

And she was talking about Jade.

J A D E

Sleep was a battlefield. I'd drift off, only to be jolted awake by the phantom sensation of cold stone against my back, the echo of a heavy lock turning. Tristin and Ava's house was warm and safe, but my mind was still in that dungeon.

I crept out of the guest room in the middle of the night, drawn by a muffled sound from the living room. I found Ava and Tristin huddled together on the couch, their voices low and urgent.

"We have to tell her, Tristin," Ava insisted, her hands wringing in her lap. "She's asking questions. She deserves to know what she's up against."

"And what will that do?" Tristin countered, his voice strained. "It'll terrify her. Markov should be the one to tell her."

"Markov had his chance!" she shot back, her frustration boiling over. "He left. Again. While she's here, hurting and confused, he's off somewhere licking his wounds. We can't let her go back to him blind. That's how we got here in the first place."

I stood in the shadow of the hallway, my heart pounding against my ribs. Up against what? What was I missing? I felt like a ghost in my own life, watching a story unfold where I was the main character, but everyone else had read the book.

"Tell me," I said, my voice quiet but firm. They both jumped, turning to face me with wide, guilty eyes. "Tell me what I'm up against."

Tristin sighed, running a hand over his face. "Jade, you should be resting."

"Fuck resting," I said, stepping into the light. "I've been 'resting' my entire life, letting other people make decisions for me. I'm done. What is so terrible about Markov's past that you're all willing to let me suffer rather than just tell me the truth?"

Ava looked at Tristin, her expression pleading. He shook his head, leaving the room. What was so bad that he couldn't even stay to hear it? He left me alone with Ava, which is all she wanted.

She patted the spot next to her on the couch. I sat down, keeping a careful distance. She took a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap.

"I love you, Jade. But I’m sorry, it’s not my place. I can't," she whispered.

"Then why mention any of it to me? Why make me think there is something going on?" I asked, my throat tight with unshed tears.

She shook her head, and I knew I wasn't going to get anything else from her.

I stood up, my body rigid with a new kind of anger. Not at Markov, not at Mason, but at this suffocating web of secrets. "Fine. You want to protect him at my expense? Fine. But you won't protect me from myself."

I walked back to the guest room and slammed the door. I started pulling on the clothes I'd arrived in, ignoring the soreness in my muscles. I had to go back. I had to see the room for myself. I had to understand what could turn a man's love into a weapon. If they wouldn't give me the answers, I would find them myself.

M A R K O V

Her name on Saffra's lips was like acid. "Jade." The name wasn't just a name to her; it was a target. A key.

"Stay away from her," I growled, my hands clenching into fists. The beast was clawing at my insides, a berserker screaming for release. But I couldn't let it go. Not here. Not in her seat of power.

"Oh, I don't think I will," Saffra said, gliding toward me, her movements serpentine. "You see, your little mate has a spark of something… unusual. Something I didn't expect. It's why the curse chose her. She's not just a werewolf, is she? No, there's something more. Something ancient. And I will have it."

I lunged for her, but she was quicker than a human should be. She flicked her wrist, and a wave of energy slammed into me, throwing me back against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, my head cracking against the stone.

"Foolish lycan," she hissed, standing over me. "You are still bound to me. Your rage, your power… it all answers to my call. And when I have your mate, her power will be my power. Your beast will be my pet."

She leaned down, her face inches from mine. Her breath smelled of rot and bitter herbs. "I am going to enjoy breaking her. I will peel back her mind, layer by layer, and find that little light inside her. And I will extinguish it. And you, my love, you will watch."

With another flick of her wrist, she sent a searing pain through my body, a reminder of the hold she had. I convulsed on the floor, a helpless, agonized puppet. When the pain subsided, she was gone.

I lay there, gasping, the taste of failure sour in my mouth. I had come here for answers, for a solution. Instead, I had just painted a target on Jade's back. I had confirmed her identity to the one person who could use it to destroy her.

I stumbled out of the cottage, my mind racing. I had to get back. I had to get to her. The thought of Saffra's hands on Jade, of her using my own curse against my mate, was a fresh, searing agony. I had made a catastrophic mistake. I had tried to tear down my own walls, only to find a much bigger, more dangerous cage waiting just outside.