Chapter 14 Chapter 14
AMINA
Kira’s venomous suggestion, the choice between being Rian's killer or his savior via the Severance Ritual, had poisoned my rest. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time I looked at the dark, reinforced walls of the suite, I saw not a cage, but a clock counting down Rian's political life.
I knew the answer wasn't in Kira's hatred or Rian's cold commands. It was in the truth. And the only truth I possessed that Rian hadn't controlled or lied about was the fractured image I'd stolen during our second training session.
The Blood Sight.
The trauma of his past.
I needed to know why Rian's absolute control, that is, the very thing that defined his Alpha status had been born from such agonizing pain. If I understood his deepest wound, I might understand why he was risking everything for a girl destined to end him.
I sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor of the suite, away from the windows, where the perpetual hum of the Tower’s energy was muffled. I closed my eyes and reached inward, not for the chaotic Earth Pulse, but for the quiet, subtle power of the Seer—the side of my magic that analyzed energy and memory.
I focused on the point of contact from Rian’s temple, the raw, unfiltered spike of his emotional core. I visualized the vision like a flawed crystal: a cold room, silence, and the chilling presence of death.
Show me the rest, I pleaded silently, using the newly refined control Rian had forced into me. Show me why the Alpha needs to be so afraid.
The Blood Sight flared, contained this time, a precise, needle-thin beam of focus.
The scene solidified. It was indeed a crypt, massive and carved from dark stone, smelling of granite and ancient dust. The woman was older, elegant, and bore Rian's fierce amber eyes. She was dead, but her expression wasn't fear; it was profound, heartbreaking resignation.
And standing over her, not weeping, but staring down with a chilling lack of remorse, were two figures.
One was a younger, slightly heavier man, his face already set in the angry, self-important lines that now defined Marcus Alarie. He was giving the orders, his voice cold and flat: "The prophecy does not skip a generation."
The second figure was a woman, younger, immaculate, holding a ritual knife that was still wet with the victim's blood. Her posture was tense, but her expression was one of duty performed. Seraphina Thorne.
They weren't just Council members; they were the executioners. They weren't fighting the Prophecy; they were enforcing it, using it to cleanse Rian’s bloodline of some perceived flaw, and they had forced a terrified, silent ten-year-old Rian to watch the political murder of the woman who held his hand.
Holy shit.
The vision snapped off, leaving me cold and gasping. My heart hammered with adrenaline, but also with a crushing wave of empathy I didn't want.
This wasn't just prophecy; this was a political assassination disguised as law. Rian wasn't afraid of my power; he was afraid of their power, which had already killed his family. He wasn't guarding his heart against me; he was guarding the deepest, most agonizing wound inflicted by his own Pack.
He saw them kill his grandmother. He grew up knowing the Prophecy was just a tool to maintain power.
The secret was a bomb. I could use it as leverage, destroying Rian's political standing by revealing the corruption of the Council’s inner circle. Or, I could hold it as an intimate, unwanted vulnerability, confirming the terrible, magnetic pull of the Mate Bond.
He trusted me with his power, and I repaid him by stealing his trauma.
I was still sitting on the floor, shaking, trying to process the raw, political violence I had just witnessed, when the suite door hissed open.
Rian walked in. He stopped dead when he saw me, my clothes rumpled, my eyes wide and probably still reflecting the stark lighting of the crypt.
His Alpha façade cracked instantly, revealing the anxiety beneath.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low and instantly aggressive. He crossed the room in two long strides, his eyes scanning my face, looking for injury or panic.
“Nothing,” I lied, scrambling to my feet. “Just… resting.”
“Resting?” He towered over me, and the Mate Bond flared with anxiety and command. “You look like you just ran a marathon. Your energy signature is spiking, Amina. You were using your Seer abilities.”
I swallowed, hating that he could read my energy now. “I was thinking about the training. About control. The Seer side helps with focus.”
Rian grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight, pulling me close until our noses were almost touching. The fury was palpable, mixed with a chilling, possessive fear.
“Don’t lie to me. I know the difference between focus and deep channeling. You were delving, weren’t you? Looking for the past.”
His gaze was intense, burning into mine. He knew. He didn't know what I saw, but he knew I had violated the unspoken boundary of the trauma.
“The Seer magic is dangerous, Amina,” he grated out, his breath hot against my face. “It attracts attention you cannot handle. It draws the wolves who want to dismantle the Prophecy piece by piece. You stay away from the past. You stay away from the visions.”
He was warning me. Not just as my captor, but as the scared boy who watched his family die.
I met his desperate gaze. I wanted to scream, I know what they did to your grandmother! I know Alarie and Thorne are murderers!
But the words wouldn't leave my throat. The secret was too big, too devastating, too intimate. It was a shared vulnerability that felt more potent than any training command.
Rian’s fingers tightened briefly, then released my wrist, leaving a faint, burning mark. He stepped back, restoring the professional, cold distance. He didn't confirm the vision, didn't mention the names, and didn't mention the crypt. He simply sealed the trauma with silence, forcing us to continue the dangerous game.
"I don't care what you saw, Amina," he concluded, his voice low and lethal. "You will focus on the present. If you touch the past again, you will bring down the Council's wrath and mine… and I promise you, neither of us will survive the next vision."