The world cracked open.
Explosions tore through the Underneath like the wrath of an angry god. Stone shattered. Dust choked the air. Accord strike teams poured from every tunnel mouth: rifles raised, magic flaring, boots pounding in perfect, lethal rhythm.
Mara's voice cut through the chaos. "Amira. Move!"
They vanished into a side passage, shadows swallowing them whole.
Rebels scattered or fought or died.
Tobias saw none of it.
His eyes burned molten gold. His breath came in ragged snarls. What felt like fire crawled over his skin like living things, licking at the edges of his control.
A rebel lunged, blade high.
Tobias struck.
One flash. One scream cut short. The body hit the ground in two pieces.
The energy inside him roared approval.
Then it flickered, dimmed, broke.
Coolness flooded his veins like ice water after fever. Claws retracted. Vision bled back to human. Muscles collapsed under sudden, crushing exhaustion.
He dropped to his knees in the rubble.
And saw her.
Seraphine.
Slumped against broken stone, the blade still buried in her chest, blood pouring dark and steady down her side. Breath shallow. Eyes half-lidded.
He crawled to her, hands shaking worse than they ever had.
"Seraphine."
She tried to smirk. It came out a grimace. "Took you long enough."
He reached for the blade. She caught his wrist with surprising strength.
"Don't. You'll make it worse."
Her voice was wet, weak, but still hers.
Tobias's throat closed. "Why did you do that? Why get between me and them?"
She coughed, blood flecking her lips. "I don't get between you and trouble. I just walk into it first."
Even dying, she joked.
She wrapped trembling fingers around the hilt, gritted her teeth, and ripped the blade free in one brutal motion.
A choked sound escaped her.
"Fuck, that stings," she rasped, pressing a hand to the wound. "Getting too old for impalement before breakfast."
Tobias's voice cracked. "I can't heal you. I don't know how."
Seraphine's eyes found his, crimson dimming but still sharp.
"Then let me heal myself."
She reached for him, slow, deliberate, fingers brushing the pulse hammering at his throat.
He didn't pull away.
"Do it."
For the first time since he'd met her, Seraphine looked startled.
"Tobias…"
"Take what you need."
Her breath shook. Her hand trembled against his skin.
"You don't know what this will do."
"I don't care."
Something fractured behind her eyes. Hunger, wonder, fear, all at once.
She leaned in.
Fangs sank into his throat.
The pain was bright, clean, perfect.
Then warmth flooded her. He felt it leave him: strength, heat, life, pouring into her like water into parched earth. Her wound began to close. Color returned to her lips. Her grip on his shoulder turned from weak to iron.
But it wasn't the healing that undid them both.
It was the trust.
Absolute.
Reckless.
Freely given.
She drank until the dizziness hit him, then pulled back with a gasp, blood on her mouth, eyes wide and wild.
"Tobias," she whispered, voice shaking with something that wasn't pain anymore. "What the hell are you?"
He smiled, faint and dizzy and utterly unafraid.
He thought, but didn't say.
Because the footsteps were coming again.
Accord boots. Rebel shouts. Fire and gunfire closing in.
Seraphine licked the blood from her lips, stood, and offered him her hand.
"Still with me?"
He took it.
"Always."
She grinned, sharp and alive and terrifyingly beautiful.
"Then let's go remind them why they should be afraid of the dark."
Together, covered in blood and dirt and something new that hadn't existed an hour ago, they turned toward the storm.
And the Underneath learned what happened when a monster and a vampire decided the same heart was worth fighting for.
The war had just found its match.
The last echoes of gunfire faded into the deep tunnels, leaving only the low groan of settling stone and the distant drip of water. Smoke hung thick in the air, tasting of scorched metal and old secrets.
Tobias and Seraphine stepped from the shattered chamber side by side. She leaned on him just enough for him to feel it: the tremor in her frame, the way her fingers curled tight around his forearm like she was afraid he'd vanish if she let go. The wound had closed, but blood still stained her clothes in dark, spreading petals.
They emerged into the main market street.
Kael saw them first.
He crossed the space in three strides and slammed into Tobias hard enough to rattle teeth, arms locking around him like iron bands.
"You absolute idiot," he choked, voice cracking. "I thought you were dead. I was already writing the eulogy. It was going to be beautiful and tragic and entirely too long."
Tobias's laugh came out shaky. "I'm here."
Kael pulled back, hands gripping Tobias's shoulders, eyes searching. "You ok man?"
"Much better right now."
"Good."
Elyndra appeared next, moving with that unnerving calm that meant she was holding everything together by sheer will. She stopped in front of him, inhaled once, deep and steady, and let her shoulders drop a fraction.
"You're safe," she said, so softly only he could hear.
Then her hand settled over his heart, palm glowing faint gold as she checked over him. The touch lingered longer than strictly necessary.
Garron loomed behind her, silent, golden eyes unreadable. He looked Tobias up and down. Once. Then gave a single, slow nod.
The closest thing to affection the werewolf had ever offered.
Seraphine's fingers tightened on Tobias's arm. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The way she pressed against his side said everything: Mine. Still breathing. Still mine.
Elyndra's voice cut through the quiet. "Tell me everything."
He did.
Every word felt like pulling teeth. Amira alive. The staged murder. The Underneath. The children. The truth about his blood. The transformation. The blade in Seraphine's chest.
When he finished, the street was silent enough to hear heartbeats.
Kael exhaled a slow, stunned breath. "So… we've been the bad guys this whole time?"
Elyndra didn't answer immediately. She stared at the ground, mind racing behind those silver eyes.
"No," she said finally. "But we don't know what really is true or not."
Garron's growl was low thunder. "Doesn't matter. We get answers. Then we choose."
Seraphine's laugh was soft, dangerous. "Oh, we're choosing. And when we do, someone's going to bleed for putting a knife in me."
She leaned her head against Tobias's shoulder, casual and possessive, voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear.
"I'm keeping you," she murmured. "Just so we're clear."
Tobias felt the heat stir, quiet but approving.
Elyndra stepped closer again, hand still on his chest.
"We keep this between us," she said quietly. "No reports. No debriefs. We wait until we know who we can trust and find out what is real and isn't."
Garron nodded once. "We move tonight."
Seraphine's smile was slow, sharp, and utterly devoted.
"Then let's go remind the whoever is behind this why monsters don't like being leashed."
Tobias looked at them: his broken, beautiful, impossible family.
And for the first time, the fire inside him didn't feel like a curse.
It felt like a crown.
They had a war to start.
And this time, they'd be the ones writing the rules.
The ride back to the compound was silent in the way only people who have seen too much can be silent.
The transport rattled over ruined roads, engines growling low, but inside the cabin no one spoke. Kael stared out the window, jaw tight, fingers drumming a rhythm only he heard. Elyndra sat opposite Tobias, eyes closed, but her hand rested on her knee, palm up, as if ready to cast or comfort the instant he needed it. Garron drove, knuckles white on the controls, gaze fixed ahead like he could outrun what they'd all just learned.
Seraphine never left Tobias's side.
She sat pressed against him on the narrow bench, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, her hand curled loosely around his wrist as if letting go might make him disappear. No teasing. No smirks. Just quiet, fierce possession. Every time the transport hit a bump she shifted closer, fingers tightening, tightening instinctively, anchoring him to her like he was the only real thing in a world that had just turned to smoke.
He didn't pull away.
When they finally reached the compound and the ramp lowered into the cold pre-dawn air, the squad moved like ghosts. No one spoke. No one needed to.
Elyndra paused at the fork in the corridor. "Rest. All of you. We reconvene tomorrow."
Kael gave a tired salute and vanished toward his quarters, before giving Tobias a concerned look.
Garron nodded once and disappeared without a word.
Seraphine stayed.
She walked him to his door, still touching: fingertips on his wrist, shoulder brushing his arm, like she was afraid distance would steal him again.
At the threshold she finally stopped.
"Sleep," she said, voice low. "I'll be close."
He almost asked her to stay. Almost.
Instead he nodded, stepped inside, and let the door close between them.
Sleep took him the moment his head hit the pillow.
Not the violent, clawing dark he expected. This sleep was gentle.
Warm.
Waiting.
He stood in an endless field beneath a silver sky. Shadows moved around him like breath: slow, rhythmic, alive. It curled over his hands, obedient, listening. He lifted a palm and the shadows rose with it, perfect and calm.
For the first time, whatever it was that was going on didn't want to consume him. It wanted to speak.
A figure stood at the edge of the field. Not human. Not any race he knew. Eyes burned the same gold as his own had in the cavern.
It raised a hand.
Come.
Tobias reached.
The dream shattered.
The room was too quiet after the dream.
Tobias sat on the edge of the bed, shirt half-open, skin still tingling with phantom fire. Moonlight sliced through the blinds in silver bars across the floor. Every heartbeat felt too loud.
He wasn't alone.
Seraphine stood at the foot of the bed, arms loose at her sides, watching him with an intensity that made the air feel thin.
"You're awake," she said, soft, almost relieved.
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough." She stepped closer, bare feet silent. "Long enough to watch you fighting something in your dreams."
He rubbed a hand over his face. "I didn't win. I just woke up."
"You're breathing," she countered. "That's winning tonight."
She moved to the side of the bed and sat, close enough that her knee brushed his. Not playful. Not teasing. Just there.
Tobias looked at her. Really looked. The blood was gone from her clothes, but he could still smell it on her skin beneath the roses and copper. Her eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide with something that wasn't just hunger.
"I need to be honest with you," she said, voice low. "And I need you to listen."
He nodded once.
"You've spent the last year learning what the races are. Their strengths. Their weaknesses. Their traits." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "But no one ever taught you what blood tastes like to my kind."
Tobias's pulse kicked.
Seraphine's gaze dropped to his throat, lingered, then returned to his eyes that refused to look away.
"Human blood is warm, bright, full of life. Shifter blood is wild, electric, like drinking lightning. Werewolf blood is thick, primal, makes us feel the hunt again. Fae blood is starlight and secrets, intoxicating, addictive."
She paused, voice dropping to something raw.
"But you…" She reached out, slow enough that he could stop her, and pressed two fingers to the vein in his neck. "You taste like all of them at once. And none of them. Like the first sunrise after a thousand years of night. Like something any vampire would get drunk on and drown trying to keep."
Her thumb brushed his pulse, reverent.
"They warned me the day you arrived," she whispered. "Keep your distance. He's dangerous. He's unstable. He's property of the program." She laughed, soft and bitter. "The moment I smelled you, I knew I was already lost, and no one tells me what I can and cannot do."
Tobias couldn't move. Could barely breathe.
"I've been starving for you since the first second," she said, voice cracking on the last word. "And tonight, when you let me drink… I tasted everything I've been denying myself for a year."
Her hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair.
"I'm not asking for permission anymore," she said. "I'm telling you. You're mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to burn the world down for if anyone tries to take you again."
The heat inside him answered before he could, rising not in violence but in recognition.
He leaned into her touch without thinking.
Seraphine's breath hitched.
Then she was on him.
Not biting. Not feeding. Just claiming.
She pushed him back against the headboard, straddling his lap, hands framing his face as she kissed him like she was trying to breathe him in. Deep, desperate, centuries of restraint unraveling in seconds.
Tobias kissed her back with everything he'd never said, hands sliding up her spine, pulling her closer until there was no space left between fire and shadow.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both breathing hard, she laughed once, shaky and stunned.
"I was supposed to be honest," she whispered against his lips. "Not lose my mind."
He smiled, small and real. "Too late."
She rested her brow against his, fingers still tangled in his hair.
"Sleep," she said, voice rough with want and wonder. "I'm not going anywhere."
This time, when he closed his eyes, the heat didn't whisper.
It curled around her presence like it had finally found the only cage it wanted to be in.
And Tobias slept.
Completely.
For the first time in his life.
With a vampire's arms around him and the promise that tomorrow, whatever truth waited, they would face it together.
The monster had chosen its keeper.
And the keeper had chosen him back.
Tobias drifted awake without warning, pulled from sleep by the prickle of being watched.
Moonlight sliced through the blinds in silver knives. The room was quiet, too quiet, every heartbeat in the compound sounding like thunder in his newly sharpened ears.
Seraphine sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on him.
Not playful.
Not guarded.
Just raw.
The bite on his neck throbbed in perfect rhythm with his pulse. He could still taste her on his tongue, copper and roses and something darker.
She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
The hunger rolling off her was a living thing, thick enough to choke on.
Tobias swallowed. "Enjoying the show?"
"Your heart was racing she said, voice rough. "And started again when I touched you."
Her fingers brushed the fresh marks on his throat, feather-light, reverent.
"I told myself I'd wait," she whispered. "That I'd be good. That I'd let you sleep."
She leaned closer, hair spilling across his bare chest like cool silk.
"I lied."
The last word cracked.
Then her mouth was on his.
Not gentle.
Not teasing.
Starving.
Fangs scraped his lip, drawing a bead of blood she licked away with a broken moan. Her hands tore at his shirt, fabric shredding like paper. His hands were just as violent, ripping the remnants of her top away until skin met skin and the heat inside him roared to meet her cold.
She pushed him flat, straddling his lap, nails carving burning lines down his chest that healed almost as fast as she made them.
"Mine," she growled against his throat, fangs sinking deep.
Pleasure exploded, white-hot, perfect.
He arched off the bed with a broken cry, hands gripping her ass, pulling her tighter against the rigid length straining his trousers. She drank in long, greedy pulls, hips rolling in the same rhythm, riding him through what little clothing remained.
Every swallow tore a moan from her throat that vibrated straight to his cock. Every roll of her hips dragged a curse from his.
She ripped the last barrier between them, fabric tearing like it had personally offended her.
She rose up on her knees, eyes locked on his, blood on her lips, chest heaving.
"Tell me to stop," she said, voice shaking with restraint. "Say it and I'll try."
Tobias's answer was to pull her down and thrust up in one brutal stroke.
They both cried out.
After that there were no words.
Only teeth and claws and fire and ice. Only the slap of skin and the wet sounds of fangs in flesh. Only her riding him like the world was ending and his hands bruising her hips while he met her thrust for thrust.
She bit him again, shoulder this time, drinking as he flipped them, driving into her so hard the headboard cracked against the wall.
Magic flared between them, gold and crimson, wild and perfect, until the room glowed with it.
When she came, it was with his name as a broken scream against his throat, fangs buried deep, body clamping around him like she'd never let go.
He followed a heartbeat later, vision whiting out, heat pouring out of him in a wave that left him shaking and spent and still burning for more.
They collapsed tangled, breathless, covered in blood and sweat and each other.
Seraphine licked a stripe up his throat, sealing the wounds with deliberate care, then pressed her forehead to his.
"Still breathing?" she whispered, voice wrecked.
"Barely."
Her laugh was soft, shaky, stunned.
"Good," she said, fingers threading through his hair. "Because I'm not nearly done with you. After tonight, you won't remember or every think of anyone else but me."
She shifted her hips, a slow, deliberate roll that dragged a broken groan from him. He was still inside her, still hard, the fire in his blood answering hers like it had been waiting for permission.
They started without words.
She pushed him flat again, nails raking down his chest hard enough to leave red trails that healed almost instantly. He hissed, hips bucking up into her, and she rewarded him with a filthy grind that tore matching curses from both of them.
"More," she demanded, voice raw.
He gave it to her.
Hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider, thrusting up in deep, punishing strokes that made her head fall back, silver hair spilling like moonlight over his fists. She rode him like she was trying to brand herself into his bones, every roll of her hips a claim, every gasp a vow.
He flipped them again, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other slid between her thighs, fingers finding her slick and swollen and perfect. She arched, fangs bared, a snarl of pure pleasure ripping free when he curled two fingers inside her and sucked a bruise into the curve of her neck.
The room filled with energy again, golden light flaring from his skin, crimson from hers, until the air itself seemed to burn with them.
She was close; he could feel it in the way her thighs trembled, in the way her nails dug bloody crescents into his shoulders, in the broken sound of his name on her tongue.
"Tobias…"
BANG, BANG, BANG.
The steel door rattled in its frame.
"Tobias!" Kael's voice, panicked. "Open up, man!"
Seraphine froze, body locked tight around Tobias, eyes snapping open, pure murderous rage.
BANG, BANG, BANG.
"Sounds like you're killing yourself in there or something! I'm not leaving till you answer!"
Tobias felt her snarl vibrate through both of them.
Another bang started.
Seraphine moved.
One heartbeat she was impaled and shaking on the edge of climax, the next she was off the bed, snatching the tattered remains of Tobias's shirt and yanking it over her head. It barely covered her, hanging off one shoulder, blood-smeared and ripped, but it was enough.
The final bang hit the door.
She ripped it open with force that bent the hinges.
Kael stood there, fist raised, eyes wide.
He took in Seraphine: shirt shredded, lips swollen and bloody, hair wild, blood on her chin, eyes promising murder.
"I was just checking if he was…"
"He's fine," she snarled, voice low enough to rattle bone. "He's busy. And if you touch this door one more time, I will rip your fucking spine out through your mouth and use it as a belt."
She slammed the door so hard the frame cracked.
The lock clicked.
Silence.
Then she turned back to Tobias, rage melting into something darker, hungrier.
"Where were we?" she purred, stalking toward the bed.
Tobias's grin was slow, feral, and entirely hers.
"Right about here," he said, reaching for her.
She pounced.
The door stayed locked.
The night burned on.
And no one in the compound got another second of sleep.