Chapter 23 - Kieran

Chapter 23 - Kieran
The door to the lower levels groans like it’s been waiting for me.

The scent of blood and damp stone coils in my lungs as I walk into the corridor carved under the east wing, where silence hangs heavier than the chains bolted into the walls. There are no guards posted this far down. No eyes. No ears. Only ghosts and traitors, and Damien Voss has always been both.

The torches on the wall burn low, as if they remember every broken promise ever whispered in these halls. I don’t knock when I reach the cell. I simply press my hand to the rusted bars and wait for him to speak.

“Took you long enough.”

Damien’s voice scrapes out from the darkness, rougher than the last time I heard it. His silhouette is slouched against the back wall, one leg stretched out lazily in front of him, the other bent, his elbow resting on it like he’s lounging in some fucking palace. 

His chains clink softly as he shifts, just enough to let the light catch the corner of his mouth. That same smug, knowing smirk.

I don’t say a word as I step inside.

The heavy steel door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing through the stone. I walk until I’m standing in front of him; until I can see the faint bruising around his jaw, the split in his lip, the way his eyes sharpen when they find mine.

He sees it.

Of course he does.

“The red-haired one,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, voice low and coiled in something too close to satisfaction. “She’s arrived, hasn’t she?”

My jaw doesn’t move, neither do my eyes. But Damien’s grin widens.

“You’re still shit at lying, Kieran. You forget I watched you learn how to do it.”

I feel the weight of his words settle somewhere in my chest, but I don’t give him the reaction he wants. I lean against the opposite wall, arms crossed, and study him through the flicker of torchlight. His wrists are shackled, his ankles too. But he doesn’t look caged; he looks comfortable.

That’s the danger with Damien. He was always too good at surviving.

“I warned you,” he says after a beat, his tone darker now, more tired. “Long before this. Long before I ever made a move.”

“You betrayed your Alpha,” I say, voice low enough to scrape the frost off the stone. “There’s no warning that erases that.”

He laughs—a bitter, quiet thing that cracks apart halfway through. “I didn’t betray you to kill you. I betrayed you to save you.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s a slow build; a tension that threads through the floor and up into my spine.

Damien tilts his head, eyes sharp and steady on mine. “You think I went to Thisbe because I wanted power? Because I wanted to tear your world down? I went to her because I knew what was coming. Because I saw the bond before you did.”

I don’t move, but something inside me coils.

“She’s not what you think,” he says, softer now. “She’s not a pawn, or a prize, or a plaything for your throne. She’s the end of you, Kieran. You feel it, don’t you? That pull, that fucking gravity. The way it drags you into her even when you don’t want to go.”

I uncross my arms and step closer; the heat rising behind my eyes too dangerous to indulge. “You don’t get to talk about her.”

“I have to talk about her,” he snaps. “Because you won’t. Because you’ll lie to your brothers, to your court, to yourself. You’ll lie until it’s too late. Until you wake up one morning and forget why the blood on your hands matters less than the way she smells when she’s angry.”

I lunge.

The chain snaps taut around his throat before he can react, my hand fisting the rusted links and dragging him up until his back hits the wall, his legs kicking for traction.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” I growl, the words blistering through my teeth. “Not in that tone. Not with that mouth.”

His lips split in a grin even as his face reddens, even as the chain bites harder into his neck.

“She’s already unraveling you,” he chokes out. “That’s why I did it. That’s why I ran. That’s why I went to the witch. Because I knew if I didn’t—if I didn’t try to sever that bond before it fused—you’d tear this kingdom apart chasing a girl who won’t stay.”

I release the chain, and he drops hard, knees cracking against stone, coughing once as he presses his back to the wall again. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and laughs.

“You think I wanted this?” he rasps. “You think I wanted to burn every bridge I built with you? I was your brother, Kieran. I bled beside you. I dragged your body out of three separate death traps, stitched you back together when no one else knew how. And you think I turned on you out of greed?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t have one. Because the part of me that knows he’s telling the truth is the part I want to rip out and bury in the snow.

He exhales hard, his head thunking against the wall. “Thisbe told me the truth before I could ask the question, that’s how strong the bond is. She felt it across the damn realm. And you? You still think you can play house with her like she won’t be your ruin.”

I look down at him, not as a prisoner—but as something far more dangerous.

A mirror.

And I hate mirrors.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” he says quietly. “I just need you to remember what I said when it starts to hurt in ways you can’t name. When you find yourself needing her more than you need the crown. When you look at her and forget every command you’ve ever given, because all you can think about is her mouth and her heartbeat and the way she says your name.”

I say nothing, but I stay too long, and he sees it. Damien smirks again, the same way he used to when we were boys and he was my best friend, back before everything fractured.

“You can lock me in here. You can cut out my tongue, break my ribs, strip me to bone. But it won’t change what’s coming.”

He leans forward, wrists rattling against the chains.

“You know it. And I know it. She’s your mate, and no matter what you try to convince yourself… that’s not something you can kill.”

I turn without a word, and leave the cell door open behind me.