Chapter 20
Chapter 20
The Violet Burn
Blake's POV
I jolted up in bed, breath ragged and chest slick with sweat. The dream still clung to me like smoke—violet. Everything had been violet. Her eyes. Her blood. The sky. The trees. All burning with that color.
My hands shook as I dragged them through my hair, the sheets twisted around my legs like shackles.
“Claire,” I muttered into the silence.
The bond was no longer dormant. It blazed now. A pull deep in my ribs yanked toward the woods—toward her.
When had that formed?
The room was still. Too still. Midnight wind tapped against the windows, a quiet echo. But inside me, everything roared.
I climbed out of bed, throwing on the nearest shirt. The cold tile bit at my feet as I crossed to the dresser.
I didn’t even know what I was looking for—maybe something to slow my hands, to distract my mind from the way her name pounded like thunder behind my eyes.
This wasn’t ordinary. The pull wasn’t normal. It wasn’t just the mate bond flaring. No. This felt like pain.
Her pain.
I reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open.
“Blake.”
I flinched.
Mirabel stood in the doorway. Hair curled around her shoulders in soft waves, silk robe tied tight around her waist. Barefoot. Eyes wide, lips trembling just enough to be calculated.
“What are you doing awake?” I asked, voice flat.
She stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind her. “I... I had a dream. About you. You were hurt. I came to check.”
Liar.
I didn’t say it. I didn’t have the time.
“Go back to bed,” I said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Wait.” She reached for my arm. “Don’t go out there. Please. The woods aren’t safe tonight.”
Something in her tone bristled. Soft, but off. Like she knew something she wasn’t saying.
I stared at her. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Because... wolves have been dying, Blake. Another fell ill today. What if whoever’s doing this is still out there?”
Her fingers gripped my wrist harder.
“You think I can sleep while she’s bleeding out in the cold?” I growled. “I felt her.”
Mirabel flinched but didn’t let go. “Blake, you can’t keep chasing after her every time you think she’s in danger. She’s not even your—”
“Don’t.”
She stopped. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed whatever came next.
“You don’t know what we are,” I said quietly.
Silence stretched between us.
“She’s dangerous,” Mirabel whispered, looking at me like she was trying to reach the part of me I’d locked away months ago. “You know that. Everyone does. If she’s gone rogue—”
“She’s not dying for this pack,” I snapped.
Mirabel’s eyes narrowed. “Then you will.”
The words hit like a slap. My hand tightened on the doorknob.
“I’m not asking for permission,” I said. “And I’m not explaining myself to you.”
I turned to go—
“Your father wouldn’t have wanted this.”
I froze.
Mirabel’s voice softened. “He warned you once. Remember? Violet. He said violet means betrayal... or salvation. You think that’s a coincidence?”
I stared at the floor. That damn prophecy.
Violet means betrayal or salvation.
I was twelve when he told me. Just a kid who couldn’t understand what the hell a color had to do with destiny. He never explained it. Just said I’d know when it mattered.
And now, I felt like I was standing at a fork in the road. Claire... or the pack. Her blood might save me—or end me.
But I didn’t care.
Because I remembered the way she looked at me the night I saved her from that brute Dylan. She could have ended up in a very bad place if I hadn't appeared.
I saved her.
I had to.
I always would.
I tore open the door.
“Blake—”
“She’s not dying for this pack,” I said again, more to myself than her.
Then I ran.
Down the hall, past the stunned guards. Through the silent grounds. I shifted mid-stride, bones cracking, body reshaping into my wolf.
The world tilted. Sounds sharpened. The cold didn’t bite anymore.
I hit the tree line and didn’t slow.
Her scent was everywhere—faint but frantic. Blood. Dirt. Pine. And something darker...
Violet.
I ran harder.
Faster.
Please be alive.
I should’ve never let her go out alone. I knew the pack didn’t trust her. I knew someone wanted her gone.
And now she was out here bleeding, and I was stuck thinking about a prophecy my dead father gave me instead of being there sooner.
She wasn’t like the others. Claire never flinched when I turned cruel, never backed away when the poison on my chest pulsed black.
She was the only one who touched me like I wasn’t dying. Like I was still worth saving.
The ground blurred under my paws as the forest thickened. Her scent got stronger.
Then—
A howl.
Not hers.
Deep. Guttural. Wrong.
My heart slammed in my ribs. I leapt over a fallen log, followed the trail—
And stopped.
Blood in the dirt.
Pawprints scattered in chaos.
Her torn jacket caught on a branch, fluttering like a flag in the wind.
I shifted back, panting.
“Claire,” I whispered, dropping to my knees. My hand hovered over the blood, still warm.
Then I saw it.
Huge tracks. Too big for any normal wolf.
And something else—
A burn mark in the ground, the edges scorched. Magic. Poison.
I knew what this was.
The same thing that cursed my chest was here. Alive. Hunting her.
I looked up.
And I felt her.
Not just pain now.
Terror.
She was close.
I closed my eyes and let the bond pull me like a compass.
Then I ran.
Faster than I ever had.
And just before I reached the ridge—
A snarl split the night.
Low. Violent. Ancient.
I didn’t stop.
I shifted in the air, landing in a blur of fur and fury.
And then I saw it.
The wolf.
Not a wolf. A monster. Bigger than any I'd ever seen. Coated in shadow, fangs gleaming... dripping violet.
And in front of it—
Claire.
Barely standing.
Blood on her neck. Her side. Her hands.
But her eyes—
Still fighting.
Still her.
I roared.
And lunged.