227

227


Malrik POV

The room felt heavier than stone thick with silence, disbelief, and the icy weight of a truth finally surfacing.

Everything had shifted.

All at once, it was painfully clear we had been chasing the wrong enemy.

Zebulon’s expression was no longer smug, no longer mocking. It was unnervingly calm his voice steady, stripped of venom.

“I’ve known about Dravina for years,” he murmured.

Then his gaze drifted to Cassian.

“I was the only one who knew. The woman Ysolde took her to after the birth the one who arranged the adoption? She’s my cousin. The moment Ysolde placed that infant in her arms, she called me.”

He let that sink in before continuing.

“I didn’t know what else to do. That child was Orielle’s blood the last direct Moonchild heir. So I told my cousin to wait, to keep her hidden.”

He drew in a ragged breath.

“Then, weeks later, two couples from the West came before the council, begging permission to adopt. I refused them publicly yet I could see their desperation. That’s when I sent my cousin to them. Quietly. Off the record. I knew they’d take the baby without question.”

Cassian stood frozen, pale.

“I always knew who she was,” Zebulon said, his voice firm. “Your wife. I just didn’t realize the woman in Malrikarion’s house was that same child until the summit.”

His eyes shifted back to me.

“Only Tavrix, Orielle, Osric, and Odessa knew my truth that I’m a Moonchild. Ysolde never did. I’ve kept it that way. They protected my secret because they understood its importance what it meant to have one of us seated in power.”

I stepped back, the weight of it crashing over me like a wave.

This wasn’t bluster. This wasn’t a bluff.

He was giving us everything names, timelines, connections. It was too precise to be fabricated, too intimate to be hearsay.

Cassian looked like the floor had vanished beneath him.

Quillan stood still as a drawn blade.

And me?

I stared at Zebulon, sick certainty settling into my bones.

He wasn’t lying.

And if he wasn’t lying… then Roarke Fenwick the man we had shielded, the man I had welcomed into my home wasn’t merely hiding something.

He was orchestrating it.

Zebulon leaned forward, barely upright, his voice hoarse but urgent.

“You need to go home, Malrikarion. All of you. Now.”

His eyes locked on mine desperate, resolute.

“Leave me here under guard, in chains, I don’t care. But do not let Roarke touch Dravina… or Tavrix’s children.”

Ice bled through my veins.

“If he does,” Zebulon pressed on, “it’s finished. You’ve no idea what he’s already achieved with his experiments. Fiji was only a glimpse. If he gets the rest of them…” He shook his head, bitterness cutting through his voice. “It’s over.”

I didn’t move.

“The man wants a throne, Malrikarion,” he said louder now, the weight of it pressing against the walls. “He’ll do whatever it takes.”

His chest rose and fell, harsh and uneven.

“Please. Go home,” he repeated. “Because Roarke he’s closer to winning than you think.”

Something in his eyes darkened, twisted.

“And once he has her your Moonchild he’ll be unstoppable.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then

“He’s not just dangerous,” Zebulon added, his voice dropping to a low warning. “He’s ready. You’re walking straight into a trap.”

I didn’t wait for another word.

I spun toward the door.

“Move!” I barked, already linking the guards outside.

Quillan and Cassian were on my heels no hesitation, no argument.

We were out of time. And we knew it.

“Vladan, are you reaching them?” I linked my Beta as I climbed into the car.

His voice came back instantly tight, shaken.

“No, Alpha. No one’s answering.”

My heart hammered so hard it stole my breath.

Dravina.

Roarke.

The house.

I had left the devil sitting in the middle of everything I loved.

“What the hell have I done…” I whispered, panic rising like fire in my chest.

And all I could do now was pray pray we weren’t already too late.