"In the fitting for her wedding dress," Rowan repeated, teeth clenched.
I stared at him. "You're not serious."
"She's putting on a ceremony," he said. "Public. Televised. There she's taken over the satellite dish up at Blackwood Labs. They are calling it a 'Union of Unity.' She's staking claim to the Vault, the company, and Elian... as her mate.
A wave of blood washed from my face.
" ⁞ 'She's going to mate with my brother?'
Rowan nodded grimly. "And claim your lineage — your legacy — as her own."
"She's not even real."
"She's not obliged to be," he said. "She's not even a 'believer' herself — she just needs the world to think she is."
I looked away, sick rising in my throat.
She had my face. My mark. My brother.
And now… she was attempting to rewrite the prophecy, with my bloodline as a weapon.
"There's more," Rowan added. "She is performing the ceremony in the Sanctuary ruins.
I blinked. "But that place was destroyed—"
"Rebuilt," he said. "Quietly. Financed from concealed subsidiaries linked to the Council. This is something they've been planning for longer than we realized."
I took a shaky breath. "Then it's not only me."
"No," he said. "It's about everything you represent."
We rode out before sunrise.
The sky was punched purple, the wind early-winter-sharp. This time I was dressed in black—hooded cloak, tightly laced tall boots, knives strapped to my thighs. No dress. No crown. No veil.
Only war.
Rowan set across from me in the transport, looking over weapon clips and encrypted maps. His eyes flicked to me once.
"We got split," he said, "go for the West altar. The stones securing the original bindings are buried there. If she attempts to create a fake mate-bond out of Elian's bloodline it will set off a tear in the lineage."
I nodded. "Then that's our failsafe."
"No." His gaze sharpened. "That's your escape. You go to the altar. I take the fight."
I shook my head. "Rowan—"
"You said it yourself. I've already lost everything."
I leaned over the cabin and caught his wrist.
"No," I said. "You haven't lost me."
His severe face softened, if only for a second. Just for a second.
Then the transport shook.
We arrived.
The new "Sanctuary" more resembled what George Jetson would have built if he'd rather have clubbed Jane over the head and dragged her back to his place. The broken remains had been rebuilt in polished steel and black glass. Moonlight cut the roof like a blade. Drones hovered silently above with blinking red eyes.
A makeshift open aisle had been cleared in the courtyard—tinged with banners of the Council.
And at the far end…
A glass altar.
Behind it stood her.
My replica.
Garbed in a slinky silver dress, the crescent mark glowing upon her naked shoulder.
In chains, power stripped, Elian settled in beside her.
Pale. Thin. Eyes empty.
But alive.
And watching me.
She spotted me the moment we stepped out of the darkness.
Her smile was as sharp as a knife.
"Right on time," she purred. "No wedding would be complete without the jealous twin.
I stepped forward, voice ice. "You don't get to wear my face and call it fate.
She tilted her head. "Why not? I look better in it."
Rowan snarled beside me, but I held up a hand.
"I don't want to fight," I said, untruthfully. "I'm here for him."
"Then reverse," she said sweetly. "One for one. You in the dress, me and the key."
"Key?"
She gave Elian a down stroke on his chest. His blood contains the last of the Moon-Bound gene. Mine didn't stick. But yours did. So I require him... to smash the lock.
I took a step closer. "And then what? You rule the wolves from a lab chair?
"I'm evolving them," she said, her voice escalating. "No more shifting under moons. No more blind fate. Just wolves who had power — and no vulnerability."
"No mercy," I said.
She grinned. "Exactly."
The council dignitaries behind her in the crowd started clapping.
Scripted. Hollow.
This was more than a ritual.
It was a coronation.
And if she fulfilled it—if she bound herself to Elian with the new bloodcode—she'd become the legal heir to the Crescent Vault and every supernatural line associated with it.
I had to stop it.
I reached for my blade.
But she beat me to it.
With a single swipe of her claw, she sliced open Elian's chest—drew just a little blood.
He winced.
She snagged it on a lead crystal vial.
She raised it up over her very own mark.
"Don't!" I shouted.
But she did.
The blood dropped.
And her crescent flared.
Once.
Twice.
Then exploded in light.
She screamed.
The crowd gasped.
I rushed forward—
—but Rowan rammed into me from behind, transforming to protect us as the altar exploded in a blast of power.
The clone was on her knees, holding her head when I opened my eyes.
Her voice cracked.
"No… no, it's rejecting…"
Cracks continued to cleave her radiant mark.
Her face twisted — bent back over itself as if it were a mirror emptied of its reflection.
She turned and snarled up at me.
"You were never supposed to survive this.
I moved forward, the blood in my ears louder than my own footsteps.
"Neither were you."
But then—
Elian lunged.
He pushed her down from behind.
"I'm not your tool," he growled.
Her claws raked at his back — but he held.
Until Rowan raised his weapon.
One shot.
Straight into her heart.
She went still.
The crescent mark dimmed.
And her body—glitched.
Then disintegrated into ash.
The silence afterward was total.
Elian collapsed, shaking.
I bolted for him, his body my first to tug to my chest.
"I've got you," I whispered.
His eyes fluttered. "She said… more are coming. She wasn't the only one."
My blood ran cold.
"How many?"
He looked at me.
And spoke the last words I ever wanted to hear.
"She called herself bride the first."