The Witch’s Vow

The Warlock's visit lingered in Elira's mind long after he disappeared.

She lay in bed beside Damien that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of unseen eyes on her.

She was running out of time.

The witches wouldn't wait forever.

And neither would fate.

A slow shift in the bed made her turn her head.

Damien was awake.

He was watching her.

"How long have you been staring at me?" she asked softly.

"Long enough."

Something in his tone made her tense.

"What is it?"

Damien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, brushing his fingers along her jaw, his touch gentle but searching.

"You've been… different lately," he murmured.

Elira forced a smile. "Married life does that to a person."

His thumb traced the corner of her lips, but his eyes were dark, unreadable.

"No," he said quietly. "This is something else."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"Elira," Damien murmured. "If there was something you weren't telling me… would you ever admit it?"

Her heartbeat quickened.

A test.

A trap.

She did what she always did when backed into a corner.

She leaned in, pressing her lips against his, slow and deep, feeling the way his body tensed beneath her.

A distraction.

A deflection.

And it worked.

For now.

A Warning in Blood

The next morning, Elira stepped into the grand foyer of Rothwell Tower, only to be met with chaos.

Whispers. Stiffened postures. Nervous glances.

She moved toward Damien's office, but before she could reach the doors, his assistant intercepted her.

"Mrs. Rothwell," the woman said, voice tight. "You… may not want to go in there."

Elira's gaze sharpened. "Why?"

The assistant hesitated. Then, with a glance at the closed doors, she whispered—

"Someone left him a message."

Elira didn't wait for permission.

She pushed the doors open.

And froze.

Blood.

Splattered across Damien's sleek desk.

A symbol drawn in crimson.

One she recognized immediately.

The mark of the witches.

Damien stood near the window, hands in his pockets, his jaw tense as he studied the mess before him.

At the sound of the door opening, he turned.

His gaze landed on her.

And for the first time, Elira felt something she had never felt from him before.

Suspicion.

The Wolves Circle

The meeting that followed was tense.

Damien sat at the head of the long conference table, surrounded by his most trusted executives.

Blackwood and Langley were there, as well as several other business titans who had stakes in Rothwell Industries.

"The message was clear," Blackwood said, watching Damien carefully. "Someone wants to remind you that power doesn't come without consequences."

Langley leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. "The real question is… who did you piss off this time, Rothwell?"

Damien's expression didn't change. "If I wasted time worrying about every enemy I've made, I'd never get anything done."

"Maybe," Blackwood mused. "But this? This is personal."

His gaze flicked to Elira, and she knew—he was watching her reaction.

She kept her expression neutral.

"Perhaps it's just a competitor making a move," she said smoothly.

Blackwood smiled. "Perhaps."

But his eyes said something else.

I don't believe you.

A Dangerous Game

That night, Elira returned to the library.

She traced her fingers over the symbol drawn in blood in her memory.

The witches weren't just watching her anymore.

They were warning Damien too.

They were pushing her toward a choice she wasn't ready to make.

Leave him.

Or destroy him.

The candlelight flickered beside her, shadows dancing along the walls.

Then—

A voice.

"You cannot have both, Elira."

She turned sharply.

The Warlock was there again, standing in the dark corner of the room, his gaze unreadable.

"You have played this game long enough," he murmured. "It is time to choose."

Elira clenched her fists. "You have no right to interfere in my life."

The Warlock smiled, slow and knowing.

"Your life?" he mused. "Or the life you stole from fate?"

A sharp wind rushed through the room, and when she blinked—

He was gone.

But his words remained.

And the choice he spoke of loomed closer than ever.