The sun had just set when the time came to part ways.
Draven and Azrael stood a few paces apart beneath the tall trees, the horizon painted in fading hues of gold and crimson. The world around them seemed to fall into hush, save for the distant calls of birds settling for the night. Neither spoke at first. They simply stood there, staring at one another, unwilling to break the fragile silence that clung to them like morning dew.
Finally, Azrael exhaled softly, her golden eyes shimmering. "I have to go home," she whispered, voice threaded with regret. "My father will notice my absence soon."
Draven reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek gently. "I don’t want this to end."
Azrael gave a broken smile. "Neither do I."
Draven leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. The intimacy of the moment was thick and slow, like honey. "We’ll see each other again. Soon."
"Promise me that," she murmured.
"I swear it."
They kissed again—slow, lingering, full of everything left unsaid. When they finally pulled apart, Draven turned toward Cyrus who stood beside his horse.
Cyrus mounted his steed with ease, but when he landed in the saddle, he winced subtly and shifted in discomfort.
Draven noticed. "You alright?"
Cyrus cleared his throat quickly, brushing dust from his pants. "I’m fine."
Behind them, Raphael had mounted his own horse, and he nearly smirked, barely containing his amusement. Draven narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing.
Azrael stepped forward, placing a hand on Draven’s chest. "Go," she said softly. "Before we both change our minds."
Draven gave her one last lingering look before mounting his horse. He and Cyrus gave nods of farewell to the twins. Cyrus’s eyes briefly locked with Raphael’s, and Raphael gave a tight nod in return. For one fragile moment, it felt like they might abandon all reason and rush into each other’s arms, but the moment passed, and the two Lycans turned their horses and galloped into the deepening night.
Once they were gone, Raphael and Azrael prepared to leave as well. Raphael adjusted the high collar of his cloak, glancing toward the darkening woods. Azrael frowned as something caught her eye.
"What’s that?" she asked, already reaching over before Raphael could stop her.
She tugged the collar aside, and Raphael stiffened as her eyes landed on the mark just barely peeking from the skin of his neck—a mating mark.
Azrael blinked. "Is that—? Cyrus marked you?"
Raphael said nothing. He glanced away, jaw clenched.
Azrael slowly pieced it together. Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You’re mated to Cyrus?"
Still, Raphael didn’t answer.
She stared at him a moment longer, then suddenly burst into laughter. It was uncontained, unfiltered—Azrael nearly doubled over.
Raphael frowned. "What’s so damn funny?"
"You and I," she said between giggles, "we were raised to hate Lycans. Sworn enemies. And now we’re both bound to them for life."
Her laughter eventually faded into silence. She looked at Raphael again, this time more somber. "Father is going to absolutely lose it."
Raphael sighed deeply. "We’re doomed."
Azrael chuckled again, nudging her horse forward. Raphael followed, both of them riding toward their grim reality.
—
Hours later, as dawn broke across the sky in soft lavender and gold, Draven and Cyrus rode through the gates of the pack.
But what awaited them wasn’t the quiet calm of home. Instead, Draven’s mother, Diana, stood with Ronan, Valkyrie, and Eryx in the main clearing. Their expressions were drawn tight, heavy with tension.
Diana stepped forward, arms crossed. "Where have you been?"
Cyrus quickly dismounted. "We were patrolling the outskirts," he lied smoothly.
Diana raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but before she could question further, Valkyrie stepped forward.
"Draven," she said, voice grim. "There’s something you need to hear."
Draven dismounted. "What is it?"
Valkyrie glanced toward Ronan, who stepped forward solemnly. "The WarBlade pack was ambushed in the dead of night by the vampires. It was a massacre."
Draven’s eyes widened, his heart sinking. He glanced at Cyrus, who looked equally grim.
"That’s not all," Valkyrie said.
Draven lifted his head.
Valkyrie continued, her voice quieter now. "Ares' mate was murdered. Brutally."
Draven’s breath caught in his throat. He looked away, jaw clenching. "Gods..."
A grave feeling sank into Draven. Any chance he ever had of stopping this war, was now completely destroyed.
—
That night, under a sky of endless black, Azrael and Raphael arrived at Blackthorne.
They hadn’t even dismounted when they saw Valerion standing tall at the grand marble entrance, his snow-white hair catching the moonlight. Behind him, Eva emerged in silence.
"Azrael. Raphael," Valerion greeted, his voice smooth and cold.
The twins exchanged glances. Tension coiled in the air like a serpent ready to strike.
"For the past two days, the both of you disappeared without a trace. Without informing me!" Valerion’s voice cut the air like a blade. "Now... tell me. Where are the both of you coming back from?"