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Then his breath shuddered out of him in a rush. "Thank the Goddess," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank the Goddess…it's gone."

His great shoulders shook.

"It's finally over," he said again, voice splintering as he held his face in his hands. "It's over."

Tears streamed down his face unchecked, silent at first, turning to loud, ugly sobs from a man at the end of his control. A myriad of raw emotions crossed his face one after the other—relief, horror, grief. Freedom bought at a cost that may have been too much.

Sulien stared as his brother lost control, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to another.

Maxen looked on with a mixture of confusion and concern. He reached for the restraints with hands that were suddenly far less steady than he would have liked.

"Easy," he murmured in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "Let's get you out of this."

He carefully disengaged the shackles—collar first, then wrists, then ankles. The magic released with a dull metallic hiss, leaving behind angry wounds that would heal sluggishly with the moonflower essence still in his veins.

Blaidd stirred from where his exhausted body stayed propped against the wall, just enough to lift his head, long lashes fluttering as though the effort alone cost him dearly. His gaze drifted, unfocused at first, then slowly found Maxen's face.

Maxen inhaled sharply. "Blaidd..." His voice caught.

Because his eyes—

Pale brown bled through the red now, unmistakably his.

Sulien saw it, too. His breath left him in a slow, stunned exhale.

"What is happening?" Sulien murmured.

Blaidd frowned faintly, confused, then let his head fall back against Maxen's shoulder, too exhausted to ask what they were seeing.

As the last restraint fell away, Blaidd slumped forward, strength finally gone.

Maxen caught him, grunting as he tried to hold him up.

He simply sagged against his brother, his breathing ragged, his eyes closed, whispering broken thanks to a Goddess who had almost waited far too long.

***

It took four of them to get him out.

Blaidd was limp and unresisting, his body finally spent after days of burning through its reserves. Every step jarred him into a low, pained sound, somewhere between a groan and a hoarse breath dragged into burning lungs. Maxen walked close, one hand braced at Blaidd's back, murmuring nothing in particular.

The enforcers carried him through the streets while the pack members watched and whispered. No one spoke, but word would spread soon enough.

At the house, Lisna was waiting.

She stepped forward the moment she saw them, her eyes like knives. "No," she said, barring the doorway with her gravid body. "No—"

For the first time in his life, Maxen did not bow to his lifemate.

He reached out—not forcefully, but firmly—and guided a surprised Lisna to step aside. His voice dropped with urgency to soothe her.

"All is not as it seems," he tried to explain. "This business…I don't know what to make of it. I need to know what he has to say. Please, my life."

Lisna faltered, searching his face. Whatever she saw there made her hand fall from the doorframe.

"He almost died," Maxen continued, just as softly. "And if I'm right, he's been fighting something none of us understood for a long while."

Her breath hitched with indecision.