Reject me twice (Kira and Theron) novel Chapter 68

[Theron’s POV]

My wolves found what the palace scouts couldn’t.

Not because they were better trained—Malik’s people were exceptional. But my wolves had spent months operating inside Order territory.

They knew the rhythms of the enemy’s movements, the patterns of their supply chains, the particular silence that settled over a region when something valuable was being hidden.

I sent three teams into the northern corridor, each following a different thread. No communication between teams until they had something concrete.

Supply purchases led to unusual bulk orders—food exceeding local need, medical supplies through intermediaries, lamp oil in volumes suggesting underground rooms.

Movement patterns revealed travelers always in pairs, always moving north, always disappearing. Safe houses pointed deeper into the corridor like stones marking a path.

The trail converged on a remote estate near the northern border.

I approached alone on the fourth night in wolf form, staying downwind. The estate was large, well-fortified—stone walls with recent construction, guard towers at each corner, a single gated entrance monitored by wolves in Seraphine’s unmarked colors.

And beneath it all, the unmistakable pressure of magical suppression—heavy, deliberate, designed to contain something powerful.

I reported to the war room before dawn.

“She’s there.” I spread my maps across the table. “Remote estate, northern border, six hours’ hard ride from the nearest settlement. The magical suppression is palpable from two hundred yards—the entire structure has been warded. Not manacles alone. Industrial scale.”

Malik’s expression didn’t change.

“Guard count.”

“Dozens. Maybe more. Exterior perimeter runs three rotating shifts, eight wolves per shift, armed and professional. Tower positions suggest trained marksmen. Gate reinforced and monitored continuously with a secondary checkpoint inside the walls.”

I met his gaze.

“These aren’t fanatics with torches, Malik. They’re soldiers. Well-armed, well-organized, positioned by someone who anticipated exactly this kind of assault. It won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care about easy. I care about getting her out. Tell me how the defenses break.”

We planned the assault over three hours. Damon stood at the map table beside Malik, the twin bond providing real-time information—Kira was alive but weakening, her magic suppressed to almost nothing, something toxic working through her system.

“How much time does she have?” I asked, because someone had to, and neither of the men who loved her most could bring themselves to form the question.

Damon’s jaw worked. Through the bond, I could see the answer costing him something vital.

“Days. Maybe less. The poison is accelerating, and without her magic to fight it—” He stopped. His hand gripped the table’s edge until his knuckles went white.

“We don’t have the luxury of a second attempt. This works, or we lose her.”

Malik didn’t react visibly. But something in the air around him shifted—a coldness that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with a man who’d just heard a clock start counting down on the only life that mattered to him.

“Then it works,” Malik said. “There is no alternative.”

“My wolves take the flanking approach.” I traced the route along the eastern wall.

She cut through his objection without raising her voice. “Someone needs to manage information flow between flanking teams, the main assault, and the ward-breaking operation in real time. Miscommunication between any two elements gets people killed, including Kira.”

She set her equipment on the table.

“I can run that coordination from a secure position behind the main line. I’ve been studying your operational protocols for weeks.”

“Elara—”

“I’m not helpless, Damon. And I’m not staying behind while the people I care about walk into danger without every advantage I can give them.”

He held her gaze. The truth in her words was louder than his fear.

He didn’t argue.

“The assault begins at dawn,” Malik said, eyes on the map, on the estate, on the place where his mate was chained and poisoned and waiting.

Dawn. Six hours.

Hold on, Kira.

We’re coming.