The Wolf and the Flame
Damon sat alone in the silence of the cathedral's ruined chapel, shirt half-buttoned, knuckles bloodied from stone. The rain had finally eased, but the storm inside him only raged louder.
He could still taste her on his tongue—like sin and fury.
Could still feel the shape of her body, carved into his hands like she belonged there.
And maybe… she did.
He tilted his head back and exhaled a bitter laugh.
*She's going to destroy you,* his mind whispered.
But he wasn't sure he cared anymore.
Because the truth—the terrifying, intoxicating truth—was this:
He wanted her to.
Damon had buried Kaia Seraphine once, along with everything soft in him. But now she was rising from the ashes in stilettos and revenge, and he was starting to think she was the reckoning he deserved.
He pulled out the small velvet box from his coat pocket.
A ring. The same one he'd had made for her two years ago.
He never got to give it to her.
And yet, even now, he carried it.
"I warned you," he murmured to the ghost of her in his mind. "You come for me like vengeance. But I'll have you like ruin."
He snapped the box shut and slid it back into his coat.
If Kaia thought she could win this war by walking away, she was wrong.
He would not lose her again.
Not to fate. Not to the truth. Not to her hatred.
If she wanted to play this game… he'd burn the whole board.
But he'd be damned if he didn't make her *his* before the final move.
---
Meanwhile…
**Kaia stood before an unmarked gravestone** tucked behind the ruins of her childhood home. The rain had softened the soil, but she dropped to her knees anyway, mud clinging to her thighs.
"I saw him," she whispered to the grave. "I touched him again. I let him in."
Her voice cracked.
"And I still want to destroy him."
She reached into her coat and pulled out the flash drive.
"Because if I don't… I'll never be free."
Her fingers hovered over the small flame she'd lit.
But she couldn't drop it. Not yet.
Not until she knew what really happened to her mother.
Not until she faced the darkest truth of all—the one Damon had spent years hiding.
She rose slowly, pocketed the drive, and turned toward the glowing skyline.
"Your move, Alaric."