Chapter 131 I still See the Blade

Chapter 131 I still See the Blade
Kael's POV

The silence in their room was loud enough to drown him.
Opal was gone. He'd heard her footsteps fade down the hallway. He hadn't followed. Couldn't. Not with the weight still pressing against his chest like someone had slammed a stone tablet down on his ribs.
His hands rested on the edge of the dresser, knuckles white.
He looked up at the mirror.
The man who stared back?
Too much of Rowen in the jaw.
Too much of Rowen in the eyes.
And tonight, for a moment—when Opal had demanded the truth, and he'd snapped in defense—he'd heard his father's voice in his own.
Kael turned away from the mirror.
He couldn't look at himself right now.
Instead, the memory surged.
Uninvited.
Unrelenting.
He was eighteen. Tall, stronger than he'd ever been, full of that reckless kind of confidence that only came from winning too many fights and losing too little sleep.
And he still respected his father.
Back then, Kael didn't question Rowen. He didn't dare.
But something had shifted in the months before that night. The way Rowen paced. The way he raged
. The things he started saying—paranoid accusations, half-formed threats toward allies, toward packmates.
Toward Kael.
He remembered the argument. Stupid. Pointless. Rowen had accused him of speaking to an outsider. Of betrayal.
Kael had tried to explain. He never got the chance.
Rowen hit him first.
It wasn't a shove. It wasn't a warning.
It was a full strike—claws out, teeth bared. Not a lesson.
A kill shot.
He remembered the flash of pain. The blood running hot down his face. The disbelief. The blur of trying to defend himself from the man who'd trained him to fight like a wolf but loved him like a son—until now.
He hadn't even cried out.
He was too stunned.
Too broken.
And then—
Malric.
Kael still didn't know where he'd come from. But suddenly he was there—slamming into Rowen from the side, a blur of fury and betrayal. They fought like old gods tearing the sky apart, howling and snarling, blood flying.
And when it ended—
Rowen lay on the stone floor of the council hall, chest heaving. Eyes wild. Rage twisting his face into something monstrous.
Malric stood over him, chest heaving, blood staining his hands.
Kael—half-conscious, slumped against the wall—watched as Rowen reached up, barely breathing.
And Malric drove the blade down.
Right into his Alpha's chest.
Right into Kael's father.
Silence.
A terrible, final
silence.
Kael had staggered to his feet, heart hammering, throat raw.
And then Malric turned.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"I saved your life," he said. "You understand that, don't you?"
Kael could only nod, still bleeding.
But then Malric took a step closer.
"And it'll be for nothing," he continued. "Because you'll become him."
Kael's brow furrowed, confused, dazed.
Malric crouched beside Rowen's corpse, resting one hand on his blood-soaked chest.
"You look like him. You move like him. That temper?" He snorted. "You already showed me a glimpse of it."
Kael shook his head. "I'm not—"
"You are." Malric's voice was like poison laced with prophecy. "Rowen always thought the world was against him. That strength justified cruelty. That leadership meant fear.
" He tilted his head. "And you? You love like him. Too hard. Too fast. Like possession."
Kael had backed away. "That's not true."
"It will be," Malric said. "One day. Just wait. One mistake. One betrayal. And you'll burn everything to the ground just like he did."
Kael left that pack that night.
Left behind his name, his blood, and the only life he'd ever known.
But he didn't leave the words.
They followed him. Clung to him. Built a prison inside his own chest.
Kael blinked, breath ragged as the memory faded.
His hand was gripping the edge of the dresser again, hard enough to crack the wood.
He'd never told anyone. Not Griffin. Not Vesta. Not Halden.
Because saying it out loud gave it power.
And now Opal—his mate, his Luna, his light—was out there, furious and hurt because he hadn't told her.
Because he couldn't.
Because what if Malric was right?
What if she saw the same storm in him?
What if one day, he lost himself—and turned into Rowen?
What if her love wasn't enough to stop it?
He pressed a hand to the mark on his neck—her mark.
It burned, steady and sure.
But for the first time since she gave it to him…
He didn't feel worthy of it.

Opal's POV

The wind had shifted.
Opal noticed it first as she moved deeper into the woods, following the trail that curled behind the packhouse like a spine through darkened trees. It wasn't just cooler now—it was off.
Still and heavy, like the forest was holding its breath.
Her skin prickled.
She should've turned back.
She should've gone to Malric. Demanded answers. Taken control of the storm Kael refused to name.
But something deeper had drawn her into the trees. Something restless in her blood. The bond still pulsed with Kael's mark, but there was a strange static in the background, like a song she could no longer fully hear.
She tried again.
Kael?

Silence.
She closed her eyes, focused harder.
Kael, can you hear me?

Nothing.
Like trying to shout through a wall of fog.
Opal's stomach twisted. The mate bond had never felt this… muted.
She paused on the trail and sent the link again, this time more forcefully.
Kael. Answer me. Something's wrong.

Still nothing.
Like he'd blocked her.
Like she wasn't there.
She opened her eyes—and froze.
Perched on a gnarled branch not twenty feet away was a crow
.
Huge.
Still.
Watching.
Its feathers were blacker than shadow, glistening like obsidian. But its eyes—its eyes
—were wrong.
They glowed red.
Not a reflection. Not a trick of the fading sun.
Red. Like coals in a hearth.
They locked onto her, unblinking.
Opal took a step back.
The bird tilted its head.
Her heart began to race.
She turned—fast—and started walking back toward the packhouse.
One foot. Then the next. Calm. Controlled.
Don't run.
Don't—
FLAP.

The rush of wings cracked through the silence like a gunshot.
She broke into a sprint.
Branches whipped at her arms, brambles clawed at her calves as she tore through the underbrush, breath sharp and fast in her throat.
Behind her, she heard it.
Wings.
Powerful.
Fast.
And then—a voice.
Not spoken. Not heard.
Felt.

"Soon."

It rasped inside her skull like smoke curling under a door.
She stumbled, caught herself, pushed harder.
"KAEL!" she screamed aloud this time, the sound ragged and desperate.
Still nothing.
No answer.
Just the pounding of her heart and the thunder of those wings behind her.
The packhouse came into view—lights warm in the windows, golden and alive.
She launched herself up the back porch steps, breath coming in heaves, her legs trembling.
She turned—
Nothing.
The crow was gone.
The forest behind her stood silent and still, as if it had never been disturbed.
But she knew.

The wind was too sharp now.
The trees too quiet.
Something had followed her.
And now it was watching.

She backed up against the door, her fingers fumbling for the handle.
Inside, warmth waited.
But Opal's skin was ice.
And her eyes wouldn't leave the darkness just beyond the trees.

Kael's POV

The door creaked open beneath his hand before he even turned the knob fully.
And there she was.
Opal.

Huddled on the back porch, her arms wrapped tight around her knees, pressed against the wooden siding like it was the only thing holding her up. Her dress was torn at the hem. Her legs were scraped. Leaves tangled in her hair. Her eyes—Moon, her eyes
—were wide and glassy, fixed on something that wasn't there.
Kael's breath caught.
"Opal?"
She didn't answer.
Didn't even blink.
"Opal." He stepped forward, crouching in front of her. "What happened?"
Still nothing.
She was shaking
.
Not from cold.
From fear.
Deep, bone-deep fear.
He reached out, hesitating for only a second before gently placing his hands on her arms. Her skin was clammy beneath his touch.
"I'm here," he whispered, hating the way his voice shook. "I'm here. You're safe."
Still, she didn't speak.
Just trembled harder, her gaze still locked on the dark line of trees beyond the yard.
Kael tried the bond.
Opal? Please. Say something.

Nothing.
He closed his eyes and pushed harder.
Opal, please. I'm right here. Talk to me. Let me in.

There was a flicker then.
A crackle of something raw and panicked.
Her voice, so faint it felt like wind in a storm.
I called for you.

Kael's chest caved in.
You weren't there.

He pulled her into his arms.
She didn't resist—didn't even react. Her hands stayed frozen against his chest, as if moving them would break something fragile.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, heart breaking. "I'm so sorry."
She was cold.
Too cold.
Kael carried her inside, up the stairs, straight into their room. He set her gently on the bed, pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, and knelt beside her.
Her lips parted slightly.
But no sound came out.
She just stared.
"I need to know what happened," he said softly. "Please."
Her mouth moved again.
A whisper. Barely audible.
"Crow."
Kael's blood ran cold.
"What?"
Opal's eyes flicked to his. "With glowing red eyes."
A beat of silence.
Then two.
Kael felt the world shift under his feet.
His grip tightened slightly on the blanket. "Where?"
"In the woods," she rasped. "I saw it. It chased me. It… it said something."
Kael went still. "What did it say?"
She swallowed hard.
"Soon."
Kael surged to his feet, his wolf rising like a tidal wave beneath his skin. Every instinct screamed to tear into the woods
, to hunt whatever had touched her scent, her fear.
But Opal flinched.
And he froze.
He knelt again. Slower this time. Quieter.
He touched her cheek gently.
"Why couldn't I hear you?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened.
"I blocked the bond."
Her breath hitched.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes. "Because I didn't want you to feel what I was feeling."
"What were
you feeling?"
He hesitated.
Then, voice raw: "Terror. Guilt. Shame. Because I've already lost one pack to the darkness. And I couldn't bear the thought of you seeing that same darkness in me."
She blinked slowly.
"Kael," she whispered. "The darkness isn't coming from you."
Her gaze drifted to the window.
"It's out there.
"
Kael followed her stare.
And in the distance, far beyond the treeline—just for a heartbeat—he saw a shimmer of red.
Eyes.
Watching.
Waiting.