Chapter 25
[Blackthorn Enterprise—The Event Hall]
The event hall buzzed with low conversation and the muted clink of glasses.
Lyra stood near the Operations group with a half-filled drink in her hand, listening more than speaking.
The space was elegant in that distinctly corporate way with polished floors, soft lighting, banners bearing Blackthorn’s insignia discreetly placed along the walls.
Mira leaned closer, voice lowered. “This whole thing feels off, doesn’t it p>
Lyra glanced at her. “Off how p>
Mira shrugged. “The energy, the security and don’t even get me started on the CEO situation p>
Jacob, standing nearby, snorted quietly. “You mean the fact that he has been gone for days p>
“That,” Mira said, “and the fact that no one seems to know if he is even showing up tonight p>
A man from Finance joined in. “I heard he won’t p>
Someone else countered immediately. “No way. This event is too public. If he skips this, people will talk p>
“They are already talking,” Jacob muttered.
Lyra shifted her weight, eyes drifting over the room as the conversation continued around her.
“He has never taken this much time off before,” Mira added. “Like ever. My cousin who has been here six years and swears the man practically lived in the building p>
“That’s because he did,” someone said. “Blackthorn before sunrise, Blackthorn after midnight p>
Lyra smiled faintly but didn’t comment.
The pressure she had been feeling since she arrived lingered but it was subtle, easy to ignore if she didn’t think about it too much.
It was not pain or discomfort, just a strange awareness sitting quietly beneath her ribs.
She took a slow breath and let the chatter wash over her.
“Do you think he will come?” Mira asked.
Jacob glanced at the entrance, then back at the group. “If he does, you will know p>
Lyra followed his gaze briefly, then looked away again, dismissing the flutter in her chest as nerves.
It was just a crowded room, just an event and another work obligation.
She rolled her shoulders slightly, grounding herself and focused on the conversation, determined not to let the strange sensation distract her.
She didn’t see Kaelen enter but somewhere behind her, the air shifted.
And the curse tightened its hold.
The room shifted the moment Kaelen entered.
It wasn’t obvious at first. Conversations didn’t stop, glasses didn’t fall, no one gasped. But something subtle changed in the air, like a collective breath being drawn without anyone realizing it.
Kaelen walked in with measured steps, Riven half a pace to his right, Elder Varyn just behind them.
The pressure in Kaelen’s chest tightened instantly.
I was not a spike or a surge but a slow, deliberate coil.
His jaw clenched as the curse pressed harder, testing the control he had rebuilt piece by piece. His wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and alert, its awareness stretching outward, searching.
But Kaelen didn’t falter.
He adjusted his breathing, his posture rigid and every step calculated as he moved deeper into the hall.
The stage was visible now, raised just enough to command attention. He focused on that, on the distance, on the rhythm of his steps.
He just needed to get there, finish his speech and get over it. But each step he took was getting harder by the second.
Riven noticed the tension immediately.
“You are pushing it,” he murmured under his breath.
“I know,” Kaelen replied without looking at him. “But I can manage it p>
The pressure tightened again, sharp enough to make his vision blur at the edges. His fingers flexed at his sides, nails biting lightly into his palms.
Elder Varyn’s presence hovered close, grounding but watchful. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to.
Kaelen took another step.
Then another.
The curse strained harder, a low, dangerous hum building beneath his skin.
His wolf pressed forward, not in rage but in urgency, as if something was pulling it closer.
Riven’s gaze swept the room, fast and precise.
He was looking for reactions, flinches, disturbances, anything out of place.
Then he saw her.
Lyra stood near the Operations group, her posture stiff and fingers curled around her glass like she needed the anchor.
Her color was off, too pale beneath the lights and there was a tightness in her expression that mirrored Kaelen’s strain almost exactly.
Riven stilled when she shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable now and with her eyes darting briefly as if she couldn’t tell where the sensation was coming from.
Riven’s pulse kicked.
At the same moment, Kaelen’s control wavered.
The pressure surged suddenly, violent and sharp, driving a breath from his lungs. His steps faltered just enough for Riven to notice.
“Kaelen,” Riven said in a low voice. “We need to p>
Kaelen lifted a hand slightly, stopping him.
His vision swam as the curse clawed hard, demanding release.
Too many people and too many humans.
His instincts screamed clearance, security, evacuation, containment. He turned his head slightly, already preparing to give the order.
But then—
His eyes met hers and everything stopped.
The pressure didn’t explode.
It vanished.
It had not faded or dulled, it was gone like it had never existed.
The curse went silent so abruptly it felt like the world itself had cut sound.
Kaelen froze, breath caught halfway in his chest.
Lyra’s eyes widened as the weight she had been bracing against dissolved in an instant. The strange tightness eased, replaced by a steady warmth that spread through her like relief she hadn’t known she needed.
She didn’t understand what had changed, only that it had.
They stared at each other across the crowded room, locked in a moment that felt suspended outside of time.
Kaelen felt it first, the impossible calm, the obedience of something that had never listened to him before.
His wolf didn’t snarl, it didn’t fight, it settled.
Riven followed Kaelen’s line of sight and felt the shift ripple through the space like a silent shockwave and his blood ran cold.
Kaelen swallowed, his heart hammering now for an entirely different reason.
Because for the first time in his life, the curse had bowed.