I find the gardens the minutes after Malik leaves. That closet of a room feels like it’s suffocating me, and I need space to breathe. I want to be outside.

Like the night air will somehow make my chest stop aching or my mind stop racing.

It’s quiet here. Peaceful, almost. Until it’s not.

“So this is where you hide.” The voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

I spin around, my wolf surging to alertness, and find Damon leaning against one of the oak trees, arms crossed. He looks different in the moonlight—sharper somehow, more dangerous. His eyes catch the light like a predator’s.

“I’m not hiding,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“No?” He pushes off the tree, moving toward me with a grace that’s both beautiful and terrifying. “Could’ve fooled me. Running to the gardens in the middle of the night. Alone. Unguarded.”

He circles me slowly, and I force myself not to turn with him, not to show how much his presence unnerves me.

“Stupid, really. Anything could happen to you out here.”

“Is that a threat?”

He laughs, low and cold. “Do I need to threaten you? We both know how this ends.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. Mira is snarling inside me, hackles raised, ready to fight. But I hold my ground.

“If you’re here to kill me, just do it. I’m tired of games.”

“Kill you now? Where’s the honor in that?”

He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“No, sister. When I kill you, it’ll be in front of the entire court.” His smile is sharp as broken glass. “I want everyone to see you fall.”

The words should terrify me. Maybe they do. But underneath the fear is anger—hot and burning and absolutely done with men who think they own my life.

“You talk a lot about killing me,” I say quietly. “Perhapt too much for someone who’s had plenty of opportunities and hasn’t taken them.”

Something flickers across his face. Annoyance, maybe. Or something else. He starts circling again, and this time I do turn to keep him in sight.

“You know what the worst part is?” His voice drops, goes colder. “The twin bond. Do you feel it? That connection we’re supposed to have?”

He stops, his expression hard.

“It’s supposed to connect equals. Two halves of the same soul, destined to rule together or destroy each other.” His eyes rake over me, assessing and finding me wanting. “Instead, I got you.”

The words cut deeper than they should. “I didn’t ask for this bond any more than you did.”

“No, you just lived your pathetic little life, completely unaware.” He moves closer again, and I can feel the power radiating off him—royal blood, fully trained, completely in control. Everything I’m not. “While I prepared for a destiny you didn’t even know existed.”

“So why are you angry?” I shoot back. “You got everything. The crown, the training, the kingdom. I got nothing.”

“Because I felt it!” The words explode from him, raw and furious. For the first time, his control cracks. “Every goddamn time something happened to you, I felt it. Through the damned bond.”

I freeze. “What?”

His jaw clenches, and I can see him fighting to rebuild his walls.

“The twin bond doesn’t care about distance. Doesn’t care if one of us knows it exists.” His voice goes flat again, carefully controlled. “I’ve felt you my entire life. This… ache. This weakness. This pathetic crying in the dark.”

The memory hits me—all those nights in my servant’s room, or alone in my chambers, while Theron was with anyone else, crying myself to sleep. All those moments of pain and humiliation.

“Rejected you?” Damon’s smile is cruel. “Oh, I felt that. Like someone was tearing my chest open. I was in the middle of a council meeting, and I had to leave because I couldn’t breathe.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. “You made me feel weak, sister. Every time you hurt, it bled through the bond and poisoned me.”

“Sorry?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re sorry for existing? For suffering? How noble.” He’s so close now I can see the silver flecks in his eyes. “I don’t want your apology. I want you dead. Because as long as you’re alive, I’ll keep feeling you. Keep being weak.”

“But I didn’t,” he continues, his voice hardening again. “Because you’re not my sister, you’re my death sentence.” He releases my wrist and steps back. “So I’ll thank you for one thing, Kira. You taught me exactly what weakness looks like. And why do I need to eliminate it.”

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