Chapter 8 A LIE.
Venessa’s POV.
Every time my heart beat, I felt a faint tug, as if an invisible thread were being pulled from my chest toward Dante’s room.
He hadn't come to dinner. He hadn't sent word. He had simply retreated into his room.
I couldn’t sit still. I needed to move. I needed to feel
any thing other than this devastation tearing at my mind, pieces by pieces.
I decided to go to the library. Not the secret, terrifying cellar where we had spent the night of the Red Moon, but the main archives.
If Silas was right—if I was just a "source"—I needed to know exactly how much time I had before I ran Dey.
The hallways were quiet.
The Lycan guards stood like statues, their eyes tracking me with a mix of curiosity and pity.
I hated it. I hated being the "poor bride" who didn't know she was walking into a slaughterhouse.
I was turning the corner toward the North Wing when something moved away from the wall.
I gasped, my hand flying to my throat. "Who’s there?"
A man stepped into the torchlight
. He was wearing a dark cloak, his face half-hidden. It took me a second to recognize his scent.
"Rick?" I whispered, my blood turning cold. "The King exiled you. If he finds you here, he’ll kill you."
The former Beta looked around nervously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I’m already a dead man, Venessa. But I couldn't leave without telling you the truth. Dante won't tell you. He’s too proud and too scared."
"The truth about what?"
Rick reached into his cloak and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. " The journal you found in the cellar? It was missing pages. Pages that Silas removed years ago."
He thrust the paper into my hand.
"Dante thinks he’s protecting you by being cold," Rick hissed. "He thinks if he stays away, the bond won't strengthen, and the shadow won't worsted. But he’s wrong. The shadow isn't a disease, Venessa. It’s a bridge."
"A bridge to what?"
"To the first King," Rick said, his voice trembling. "The one who started the curse. He’s not dead. He’s waiting in the Void. And he doesn't want Dante. He wants a vessel that can survive the transition. He wants a mate."
Before I could ask another question, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the hall.
"Run," Rick whispered. "And for the love of the gods, don't let him touch you when the moon is high. If he does, it’s over."
He vanished into the darkness just as a squad of guards rounded the corner. I shoved the paper into the bodice of my dress, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt.
I went back to my room then and locked myself in my bathroom, the only place I felt truly alone.
With trembling fingers, I smoothed out the paper Rick had given me.
It wasn't a journal entry. It was a map of the bond.
There were drawings of two hearts, connected by a thick, golden line. But as the drawing progressed, the gold turned to black. At the bottom, in a language I could barely read, were three lines that made my stomach flip:
The King is the Lock.
The Queen is the Key.
When the blood runs cold, the Shadow is free.
It didn't say the Queen had to die. It said the Queen was the Key.
I looked at my wrist. The grey veins were pulsing.
Was I opening a door?
Every time I "saved" Dante, was I actually unlocking something far worse?
I couldn't help it. I went to the room he stayed in now.
I didn't knock. I pushed the doors open and marched in.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace.
Dante was standing by the window, a glass of bourbon in his hand. He didn't have a shirt on, and in the firelight, the black marks on his chest looked like charred wood.
"I told you to stay in your room," he said, his back to me.
"And I told you I’m not a silent doll," I snapped. I walked up to him, stopping just a few feet away. "I saw Rick."
Dante froze and turned around slowly, "You did what?"
"He came back to warn me and gave me this." I pulled out the paper and held it up. "He said you’re lying to me. He said the shadow isn't just a curse. it’s a bridge. And I’m the one building it."
Dante dropped his glass. It shattered on the floor, the amber liquid splattering his boots.
He was across the room in a blur, his hands grabbing my shoulders.
"You should not have seen that," he hissed.
"Why? Because it’s true? Because every time I help you, I’m making it easier for whatever is in that Void to take me?"
Dante’s grip tightened. I could feel the heat radiating off him, but it was different now.
It wasn't the warmth of a mate. It was the heat of a cruel hearted man.
"I am trying to save you!" he yelled, his face inches from mine. "Why do you think I’m being a bastard, Venessa? Why do you think I won't look at you? Every part of me wants to drag you to that bed and never let you go. But if I take what I want, I destroy you.”
"Then tell me the truth!" I screamed back, tears pricking my eyes. "Don't treat me like a child. If I’m going to die for you, I want to know why."
Dante’s expression crumbled. The mask of the cold, untouchable King fell away, leaving behind a man who looked completely broken.
He let go of my shoulders and stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair. "Someone poisoned the line generations ago. He wants the Void to open. He thinks he can control the first King and he has been waiting for a mate to appear because only a mate has enough power to act as the Key."
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a raw, agonizing longing. "I’m acting cold because I’m trying to kill the bond. If I can make you hate me, if I can make the connection wither, maybe the shadow will stay in me. Maybe it will die when I die."
I looked at him—really looked at him. He wasn't being a jerk because he was mean.
He was being a jerk because he was afraid.
He was choosing to be hated so that I could be safe.
It was the most romantic, stupidest thing I had ever heard.
"You idiot," I whispered.
Dante blinked, surprised. "What?"
"You think you can kill a soul-bond with a few mean words and some distance?" I took a step toward him. "I’ve been unwanted my whole life, Dante. I’ve been the 'substitute' since the day I was born. You being a jerk doesn't make me love you less. it just makes me want to kick you."
A small, genuine smile flickered on his lips for a second before vanishing. "Venessa, this isn't a joke. The grey in your veins... it has already started."
"Then we find another way," I said, reaching for his hand.
He pulled back, his eyes darting to the moon outside. It was still reddish, a lingering stain from two nights before. "No. I won't risk it. Stay away from me, Venessa. That is an order from your King."
"I don't take orders from you," I retorted.
"You will this time." He walked to the door and opened it. "Guards!"
Two men appeared almost immediately .
"Escort the Queen to her chambers. She is not to leave until I give the word. Lock the door if you have to."
"Dante, don't do this!" I yelled as the guards moved toward me.
He didn't look at me. He just stood there, "It’s for your own good."
The guards were respectful, but firm. They led me back to my room and closed the doors. I heard the heavy thud of the bolt sliding into place.
I was a prisoner again.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the moonlight on the floor.
Dante thought he was protecting me, but he was doing exactly what Silas wanted. He was isolating me. He was making me weak.
I pulled the paper out again and looked at the three lines:
The King is the Lock.
The Queen is the Key.
When the blood runs cold, the Shadow is free.
My blood wasn't running cold. It was running hot.
The bond wasn't withering; it was thrumming under my skin.
I realized then that Rick hadn't told me everything. Or maybe he didn't know.
If the Queen is the Key, then the Key can also lock the door from the other side.
I looked at the grey veins on my wrist.
They weren't just a sign of infection. They were showing me exactly where the shadow was weakest.
I didn't need to stay away from Dante to save myself. I needed to get closer. I needed to be the one in control of the bridge.
But first, I had to get out of this room.
I walked over to the vanity and grabbed the heaviest perfume bottle I had. It was a thick, crystal decanter filled with a scent Dante had said he liked—sandalwood and spice.
I didn't use it. I threw it at the window.
The glass shattered, the sound echoing through the quiet night.
I didn't wait for the guards to react.
I grabbed a heavy fur cloak and climbed onto the stone ledge.
The drop was twenty feet to the garden below.
"Well," I whispered to the dark sky. "At least it’s not like falling will kill me."
I jumped.
I hit the ground hard, the air leaving my lungs.
I rolled into the rosebushes, the thorns tearing at my cloak, but I didn't care. I scrambled to my feet and ran toward the South Wall.
If Silas was the one who had tampered with the journal, he would have the original pages. And he would be the one planning the next move.
I found his study on the ground floor. The lights were on, and I could hear voices through the slightly open door.
"...the King is weakening," Silas said. "The girl is taking the weight, just as we planned. By the next full moon, the vessel will be ready."
"And the King?" another voice asked. I recognized it—it was one of the other Elders.
"The King will be consumed," Silas said, and I could practically hear the joy in his voice. "A tragic loss for the kingdom, of course. But the First King will bring us a power the Lycans haven't seen in a millennium. We won't be hiding in the mist anymore. We will be masters of the world."
I felt sick. It wasn't just about Dante. It was about a war.
I turned to leave, to find Dante and tell him what I’d heard, but I ran straight into a solid chest.
I looked up, expecting to see a guard.
Instead, I saw Rick. But he wasn't wearing his cloak anymore. He was wearing the uniform of Silas’s personal guard.
And he was holding a crossbow.
"I told you to run, Venessa," Rick said, his voice cold and empty. "But you just had to be the hero, didn't you?"
"You’re working for him," I breathed. "The warning... the paper... it was all a lie."
"Not a lie," Rick said, gesturing for me to move toward the study door. "Just a distraction. We needed you to go to Dante. The shadow needs a reason to move, and love or whatever you call this mess is the best catalyst there is."
The door to the study opened, and Silas stood there.
"Well, well," Silas said, stepping aside. "The Queen has come to join the party. How convenient."
I was shoved into the room, the door slamming shut behind me.
On the desk lay a ritual dagger and a bowl of that same black water from the cellar. But next to it was something that made my heart stop.
It was a lock of hair. Dark, raven-black hair.
Dante’s hair.
"The King thinks he’s protecting you by staying away," Silas chuckled, picking up the dagger. "But he has already given us everything we need. Now, we just need the Key to turn the lock.”
He lunged for me.