Chapter 273
“Nolan,” she whispered, panic bleeding into her voice. “That’s not nonsense.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
She shook her head, breath coming faster. “The shadows hunger-that’s old language. Pre-unification. It’s used in some of the earliest texts about corrupted bonds and obsession turned divine punishment.”
My stomach dropped. “And the shadow woman?”
Ellie swallowed hard. “A figure that appears in warnings. Not always the same person-but always the same pattern. Someone who believes love gives them ownership. Someone who mistakes devotion for entitlement.”
A name burned in my mind.
Felicity.
“And the castaway?” I asked.
Her eyes lifted to mine, bright with fear. “That’s me.”
The words hit like a blow.
“He means someone severed from their rightful place,” Ellie continued shakily. “Someone taken from their home, their pack, their protection.”
“You were lost in the rogue zone,” I say softly. The explanation makes it seem so simple. It makes something twist painfully in my chest and my wolf growls with protective fury.
Her breath stuttered. “Blood follows the castaway,” she repeated. “It means danger trails those who were forced out. Especially when power-divine power-is involved.”
I moved closer without thinking, cupping her face in my hands. “Ellie. Look at me.”
She did, barely holding it together.
“This ends with you safe,” I said firmly. “And the boys safe. I don’t care what it costs.”
Her eyes flicked toward the nursery door.
“The children of the storm,” she whispered. “Children of the storm. Nolan, I think… I think that you’re the
storm.”
“Me?” I asked, startled. “Why would I be the storm?”
“It’s the visions I’ve had of you, especially while we were apart,” she explained. She moved closer, leaning into me like an anchor. I held her, letting my hands slide from her face to her shoulders.
“The visions you had of me while you were in hiding?”
“And while the boys and I were still in Moonstone. I would dream about you… it used to scare me before I
learned to understand the visions more. I’ve always thought your eyes are like storm clouds. Maybe that’s why
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Chapter 273
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She trailed off, almost looking embarrassed. I couldn’t help but smile despite the tension.
“Storm clouds?”
“Yes,” she said, huffing softly. “That dark, blue grey color as a storm is rolling in.”
“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my eyes.”
“That’s not the point,” she huffed.
“You think I’m the storm,” I repeat. “August and Ian are the children of the storm. It’s pretty literal, but I see no reason you wouldn’t be right.”
“Nolan, I think… I think that the coming storm is a battle. One that you’ll fight in. One that will-”
“You don’t have to say it,” I cut her off quickly. Hearing the words out loud would be too much right now. I was barely holding my wolf in check as it was. A threat to Ellie, to the boys, it was enough to make me lose control if I wasn’t careful.
My chest tightened. “You said earlier that the goddess warned you.”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “And now this-this confirms it. The rogue didn’t invent that. He heard it. Or saw it.”
“From who?” I asked.
Ellie’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I don’t know. But if this is moving beyond politics-if someone is acting on something older, something darker—”
She broke off suddenly, pushing the covers aside and standing.
“Ellie?” I followed her immediately.
“I need to talk to my father,” she said, already pacing. “Now.”
Alaric.
My jaw tightened. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped, then immediately softened. “I’m sorry. I just he needs to know. He’s seen things. He understands this kind of language.’
I nodded once. “We’ll contact him.”
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“No,” she said firmly. “I need to speak to him in person. Or at least somewhere private. Somewhere warded.”
I considered it for a brief moment, then nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
She stopped pacing and looked at me, really looked at me, fear naked in her expression.
“Nolan,” she said quietly. “If the goddess is warning us this directly… it means time is running out.
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I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “Then we move faster.”
Outside the packhouse, the wind picked up, rattling the high windows.
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Miles away, in the depths of the prison, the rogue stirred restlessly in his cell.
And somewhere in the city, unseen and unacknowledged, something ancient shifted-hungry, patient, and watching the storm gather.
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