Chapter 65 Chapter Sixty-Five
The cold was relentless.
Not the kind that nipped at skin and faded with motion—this was the kind that clung, that crept past fur and flesh, embedding itself in the marrow. For days now, Julian and Jace had trekked through a landscape stitched from ice and silence, where wind howled like a starving predator and the sky stayed the color of old bones.
Slopes iced over with jagged frost. No roads. No signs of life. Just endless white, broken only by the brittle silhouettes of black trees—dead, clawed things that watched them pass.
The wind hadn’t let up in hours. Snowdrifts waist-deep. It slashed sideways through the jagged mountain corridor, seeping through layers of insulated gear, numbing even the primal warmth their Lycan blood offered.
They felt it in their fingers, stiff even beneath gloves. In their bones.
Even Lycans had limits.
And here—in this forgotten, frozen corner of the mortal world—they were walking right up against them.
Their boots cracked through crusted snow with each step, the rhythm as punishing as it was necessary.
Jace didn’t speak. Neither did Julian. There was no point in wasting breath when the air itself fought to take it from them.
Julian’s pace slowed first.
He lifted his head, squinting through the pale curtain of flurries. Just ahead, jutting from a mound of ice like a skeletal limb, stood a blackened, gnarled tree—leafless, lifeless, its twisted branches clawing at the sky.
Julian stopped.
“That’s the Widow’s Reach,” he muttered, reaching for the zipper of his jacket. His stiff fingers dug beneath and pulled out the folded map he kept tucked close to his chest.
The paper crackled in the wind as he unfolded it, eyes scanning the inked lines.
“We’re close,” he murmured. “Bridge is ten miles from here.”
Jace squinted toward the horizon, where the sun hung low and hazy behind a curtain of drifting snow. He raised his hand, measuring the sinking light with the spread of his fingers.
“Two hours,” he said. “Maybe less until sundown.”
Julian didn’t respond, still scanning the distance beyond the Widow’s Reach.
“We should find shelter,” Jace added, voice firmer now. “We need rest. Clear heads. Especially before crossing that thing.”
Julian gave a slow nod, the memory surfacing like a shadow behind his eyes.
No one crosses the Ravenspine without leaving a piece of themselves behind.
That’s what Lazarus had said.
And he hadn’t been exaggerating.
People were known to go mad trying to cross it.
Julian exhaled through clenched teeth, a puff of vapor vanishing into the wind. He didn’t want to stop. Every instinct in him screamed to keep moving—if not for warmth, then to quiet the thoughts clawing at the back of his mind.
But Jace was right.
He gave a terse nod. “Fine. Let’s find shelter.”
They pushed forward through the mounting drifts, boots crunching against the crusted snow until the terrain shifted—sloping jaggedly into a wall of rock streaked with frost and shadows.
It was Jace who noticed it first. “There.”
Nestled in the cliffside was a narrow recess—just wide enough for a man to slip through sideways. Its mouth was half-obscured by a curtain of ice, glittering like spun glass. If not for the way the snow broke around it, they might’ve missed it entirely.
Julian ducked low, brushing aside a veil of icicles. The passage opened into a hollowed cavern, curved like the inside of a ribcage, its walls glistening with pale blue ice. The floor was mercifully dry—smooth stone beneath a light dusting of snow.
The wind didn’t follow them in.
The silence was instant. Heavy.
Julian stepped deeper inside, glancing around warily. No tracks. No scent. Just the cold—and something else he couldn’t quite name. A stillness that felt too… aware.
Jace dropped his pack near the far wall and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll stay here tonight. Get some rest. Clear our heads.”
Julian didn’t respond at first. His eyes were still on the cavern walls, watching the way the ice seemed to shimmer faintly, almost like breath against glass.
He finally muttered, “We should eat.”
Jace gave a short nod. “On it.”
He dropped his pack and unzipped the outer flap, pulling out two vacuum-sealed cuts of meat—frozen solid and rimmed with frost. “Last of the steaks,” he said, holding them up. “After this, we’ll have to hunt.”
Julian was crouched near the center of the cavern, clearing a patch of icy stone with his gloved hand. A small pile of kindling—dry brush and splintered twigs—lay ready beside him. Sparks hissed from the striker in his other hand, flicking weakly into the frozen air.
“We’ll worry about food when we’ve crossed the bridge,” he said, more to the flint than to Jace.
Jace set the meat near the growing flame and dusted the frost from his gloves.
“We’ll cross the bridge,” he said simply—like it was fact, not hope.
Julian didn’t look up. He fed another twig into the fire, watching it catch.
“We need to stay sharp,” he murmured. “Lazarus wasn’t exactly sure what happens on the bridge.”
He sat back on his heels, eyes narrowing at the thought.
“Said not many have made it across… and if they did, they didn’t come back.”
A pause.
“The bridge is hexed. Designed to keep people from traveling further. To protect what’s beyond. To trap what’s already crossed.”
Jace didn’t answer right away.
The fire popped softly between them, fat hissing as it cooked. Shadows climbed the cavern walls, stretching and retreating with every flicker of flame.
Finally, Jace exhaled through his nose.
“Hexes don’t work unless they get inside you,” he said. “Doesn’t matter how old or powerful they are. They need doubt. Fear. Guilt.”
He flipped one of the steaks, the scent of searing meat briefly overpowering the cold.
“So we don’t give it anything to work with.”
Julian nodded once. He didn’t trust himself to say more.
They ate in silence, backs against the stone, boots stretched toward the fire. When they were done, they cleared a space on the floor, laying their packs down as makeshift pillows. The fire crackled softly, warmth finally sinking into the chilled cavern air.
The wind outside howled. Inside, the cavern held its breath.
Time passed. Long enough for the tension to loosen. Long enough for Julian’s thoughts to drift where he didn’t want them to.
Then—
“You think Kaelani’s waiting for you?”
Jace’s voice was quiet. Casual. Almost thoughtful.
Julian blinked, surprised by the question. He turned his head slightly, brow furrowing.
“I can only hope she is.”
A low hum came from beside him.
“Hmm… You know what I think?”
Julian hesitated.
“What?”
Jace rolled onto his side, and the firelight caught his face at a strange angle. His mouth curved—not quite a smile.
“I think she’s probably getting fucked by that Fae Lord right now.”
His words were flat. Delivered with no emotion. Just cruel honesty… or something pretending to be it.
Julian sat up slowly, a tightness building in his chest.
“What did you just say?”
Jace laughed.
Low at first. A breathy chuckle that scraped against the cavern walls.
Then louder.
And louder.
The sound peeled into something manic. Unnatural.
Julian’s stomach dropped.
He stared harder at Jace’s face—
And it shifted.
The familiar lines twisted. The warmth in his eyes drained, replaced by something silver and amused.
Draevyn’s grin split his face—feral, gleaming, wrong.
“You really think she chose you?” he whispered, leaning closer. “That she’d come running into your arms? You left her. You ruined her. I found her in pieces. I made her whole.”
Julian’s breath hitched. He scrambled back, claws protracting with a metallic scrape.
The fire flared behind Draevyn like it recognized him—like it bowed.
“She comes when I merely touch her,” Draevyn purred. “Was she ever that responsive for you?”
The cavern twisted—walls rippling like heatwaves, shadows stretching long and skeletal across the floor.
Julian surged to his feet, claws out, chest heaving.
“You’re lying. I’d know if she was with another. I’d feel it.”
Draevyn’s grin deepened.
“You’d only feel it if she bared your mark… and you bared hers.”
His voice slithered through the air like smoke.
“But you don’t. And she’s no longer bound to your pathetic bond.”
A pause. His eyes gleamed with cruelty.
“She chose to break it. She used her power to sever you.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed, breath sharp.
“You’re full of shit.”
Draevyn chuckled low.
“Am I? Then tell me, Alpha—why haven’t you felt her in weeks? Why does she no longer haunt your dreams… unless I allow it?”
Julian’s claws flexed against his palms, his wolf snarling just beneath the surface.
“You’re going to die out here,” Draevyn said, almost gently. “But don’t worry. She’ll be just fine. I’ll keep her warm. Keep her fucked. Every. Single. Night.”
Something in Julian snapped.
He lunged—fangs bared, claws swinging—aiming for Draevyn’s throat.
But he was gone.
Julian crashed through the space where he’d stood, landing hard on his hands and knees. He looked up—heart pounding—and the cavern was gone.
He was in a hallway.
Narrow. Dark. The stone beneath him cold and wet, like it had been carved from the bones of something age-old. Torches flickered weakly on either side, casting long shadows that bent at impossible angles.
Then—
A sound.
Far off at first. Muffled. Female.
He stilled.
Screaming?
No.
He moved toward it, every step echoing. The sound grew louder. Clearer.
Not screaming.
Moaning.
In pleasure.
Julian knew that sound.
The way her breath caught. The cadence. The raw, helpless edge that only came when she was close—when she was touched just right. By him.
His pulse spiked.
He ran.
The corridor pulsed like a heartbeat around him—dark, endless, alive. The walls wept black liquid. Shadows moved like insects beneath his skin.
Still, he ran.
The sound grew louder—slick, rhythmic, shameless.
He didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.
Julian reached the door and didn’t hesitate. He kicked it open, nearly knocking the door right off the hinges—
And the world stopped.
Kaelani was there. On the bed. Naked, her body glistening like a fever dream.
She was bent forward, spine arched like a bowstring, hands gripping the twisted sheets.
Draevyn was behind her.
Fucking her.
Deep. Hard. Possessive.
The sound of skin on skin echoed like a slap to the soul. The tempo was obscene. Endless.
Julian froze. His stomach hollowed. Time fractured.
Kaelani’s eyes opened—and locked on his.
Not startled. Not penitent.
She looked through him. Past him. As if he were a ghost.
As if he meant nothing.
And as Draevyn drove into her again, her mouth fell open—
Right on the edge of ecstasy.
Right on the edge of coming.
And as she cried out—broken and beautiful—her gaze didn’t waver.
Didn’t flinch.
Julian staggered back, bile in his throat.
Something inside him shattered.
No—splintered.
This wasn’t jealousy.
This wasn’t anger.
It was obliteration.
His mind screamed no, but his wolf only howled—a sound full of betrayal and madness and a need to destroy.
The walls began to bleed.
Draevyn looked straight at him—and smiled with too many teeth, still pounding into her.
“She’ll be dripping with me long after you’re dead.”
Julian didn’t think.
He lunged.
A guttural snarl ripped from his throat as he tackled Draevyn off the bed, slamming him hard into the stone floor. The impact shook the room—furniture splintering as they crashed through a table, knocking over chairs, ripping curtains from the walls.
Julian was on top of him in seconds, clawed fists pummeling, fangs bared in pure, feral rage. He hurled Draevyn across the room, into a dresser that shattered on impact—wood snapping like bone.
But Draevyn only laughed.
Julian roared and charged again, driving him into the wall so hard it cracked.
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t care.
He pulled the dagger from his belt—jagged, gleaming, deadly—and brought it down toward Draevyn’s throat.
Draevyn caught his wrist—one-handed—like it was nothing.
The bastard was still laughing.
“This isn’t real,” Draevyn said, grinning, teeth red. “None of this is real.”
Julian snarled, pushing the blade down harder. His muscles shook with effort, veins bulging as the edge pressed closer to Draevyn’s skin.
Still Draevyn laughed.
“You think this pain will fix it?” he hissed. “You think killing me will bring her back to you?”
Julian screamed—a raw, primal sound—and shoved harder.
The blade sank deeper.
Draevyn’s laughter cracked.
He coughed. Strained.
His grip started to slip.
And then, with something close to fear in his voice, he rasped—
“Julian… it’s not real.”
The words struck like a whip. Something inside Julian jolted.
“You have to tell your mind,” Draevyn said, weaker now. “Tell it… this isn’t real…”
Julian blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The shadows flickered.
And suddenly—Draevyn’s face was gone.
It was Jace.
Julian was on top of him, pinning him down, the dagger trembling inches from his throat.
Blood at the corner of Jace’s mouth. Eyes wide. Real.
“Come back, man,” Jace choked out. “You gotta come back…”
Julian’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs as he looked around—
The bridge.
They were on the bridge—right near the edge.
Wind screamed past them like a warning. The drop below was endless—miles of open air yawning beneath their feet.
Then he looked back at Jace—his best friend’s upper body dangling dangerously close to the ledge.
Reality crashed over him like ice water.
He wasn’t just about to slit Jace’s throat…
They were seconds from plummeting to their deaths.
It all came back in fragmented pieces.
They’d left the cavern early that morning. Reached the bridge. Started to cross.
That’s when the hallucination must’ve taken hold.
Julian tore himself off Jace like he’d been thrown by some invisible force.
He grabbed him—hauling him back, away from the edge, dragging him from the brink of the cliff…
Or the mouth of hell.
Both of them were breathless, shaken—one heartbeat from the end.
Julian ran his hands over his face, chest heaving.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped.
Again.
“I’m so sorry.”
His voice broke with it, over and over like a cracked record.
Jace slowly rose, still catching his breath. His clothes were torn, shoulder bleeding, but his voice was steady.
“Hey—look at me.”
He reached down, grabbed Julian’s arm, and hauled him up.
“We’re not dying here.”
A pause.
“We finish this.”
Julian nodded, still shaking, still rattled. But he followed.
Step by step, they crossed the last stretch of the bridge—
Haunted.
Exhausted.
But alive.