Heart Bound

Eyes from the Shadow

Zoran's POV

I watched Channing shift uncomfortably in front of me, barely able to look me in the eye. The faint shadows of the realm clung to me, making him fidget, his eyes flickering between me and the ground.

"You're clear on what needs to be done with Gina, yes?" I kept my voice low, steady, knowing it unsettled him more than any overt threat would.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. I’ll... I'll get her alone. She trusts me, and... she won’t expect it."

"Good," I murmured, leaning forward, letting the darkness slip around me just enough to remind him of who I was, of what could happen if he failed. "You realize she’s essential. Her blood anchors us here, holds the spell steady. This isn’t something you can ‘try your best’ with, Channing. This is all or nothing."

Channing’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, a flicker of resolve sparking in his eyes. "I understand. I'll do what needs to be done."

“Will you?” I let the question hang in the air, studying his face. “Or are you letting some naive attachment get in the way?”

He flinched, but then he lifted his chin, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, though they didn’t hold steady for long. "No… No, I'm clear on what has to be done."

"Make sure you are," I replied coldly, watching him shift under my gaze. “Emotions are only useful when they’re under control, Channing. Remember that.”

He gave a stiff nod, and I turned my attention to the other pawn in our little game. "And Hannah? Is she handling her end with the witch?”

Channing’s mouth pressed into a thin line, as if the mention of Hannah annoyed him. “She’s... managing it,” he said reluctantly. “Melissa’s half-blood magic is... tricky. She’s harder to keep under the trance than expected.”

A dark laugh escaped me. “A half-blood, stumbling around in power she barely understands. It’s charming, isn’t it?” I leaned closer, letting the cold shadows edge my voice. “Tell Hannah to keep her under control. Whatever it takes, I want her docile when the ritual begins. If that means Hannah must... encourage her submission, so be it.”

Channing’s face twisted slightly, but he didn’t argue. I could see the resentment flickering in his gaze—perhaps some shred of a conscience, the tiniest pull of guilt. How quaint.

“Understand this, Channing,” I said, voice soft, but sharp as a blade. “Gina and Melissa are tools. Their worth is measured only in how useful they are to us. And if you hesitate... if you find yourself wavering...” I let the shadows grow around me, enveloping him, a reminder of what I could do if he dared to fail.

He straightened, clenching his fists, the tremor in his voice barely concealed. “I won’t waver. I know what’s at stake.”

“Excellent.” I smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “Consider this your chance, Channing, to prove your worth. Serve well, and perhaps you’ll rise from the place you’ve been so bitterly mired in.”

He nodded, looking away for a moment, then turned back to face me with that same steely resolve. It was impressive, I’d give him that—an omega with a flicker of ambition. I watched him, silent, letting him absorb the weight of my expectations, my demands.

“Report back once you have Gina and Melissa secured,” I finally said, my tone dismissive.

He gave a quick nod, his mouth a tight line, before turning and disappearing into the shadows, his hurried steps echoing as he left.

I leaned back, satisfied. Channing would do as he was told. He had no other choice.

I watched Micah study the swirling shadows around us, his gaze distant. He had the look of his mother—her dark hair, her piercing gaze, her sharp intelligence. It was that intelligence, coupled with his loyalty, that would make him invaluable in the coming days.

“Once we break free,” I began, drawing his attention back, “the world is ours to reshape. And Kyrie will be at the heart of it, as your chosen mate. The bond between you will be vital, not only for you but for the kingdom we’ll rebuild.”

Micah’s expression shifted, contemplative, but his gaze held something deeper—a flicker of hesitation, perhaps? “You’re sure… she’s the one?”

I nodded, my voice firm. “Absolutely. She’s the last of the Moonstone bloodline, the key to restoring our family’s power and legacy. You and she together will hold the throne, just as it was meant to be.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “But… what about Mother?” His voice softened, and for a moment, there was a vulnerability in his eyes. “Will we see her?”

I held his gaze, allowing a beat of silence to stretch before responding. “Not yet,” I said carefully. “This first step, Micah, it’s delicate. Your mother—she’s strong, but her presence would draw too much attention. For now, it will be you, me, and the essentials we need to breach the veil. Once we’re on the other side, we’ll find a way to rescue her and bring the rest of our people through.”

Micah absorbed this, his lips pressing into a thin line. “She gave up everything to have you. Her family, her title. They called her a traitor.”

I inclined my head slightly. “Your mother knew what she wanted. She saw our future as clearly as I did—a future in which we rule, together. But first, we need the fae and the gypsy girl to break the initial bonds of this cursed realm. Then, we can bring the others—your mother included.”

He nodded, though his expression was unreadable, as though the answer had only partly satisfied him. “It’s just… she’s waited so long.”

“She has,” I agreed, keeping my tone measured. “But she understands, as you must, that this is a process. Once we have crossed into the living world, everything else will fall into place. Your mother, our people—they will all have their place. But Kyrie… she is the priority. Securing her binds us to this realm fully, cements our future.”

Micah’s gaze sharpened, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that bordered on defiance. “You mean... she cements "your" future.”

The words lingered, and I regarded him with a cold smile. “Our future, Micah. Don’t let your sentimentality cloud your purpose. You are my son and the only rightful heir to the throne. You will take Kyrie as your chosen mate. That is the way forward. It’s your legacy, your destiny.”

Micah looked away, jaw clenched, but he gave a curt nod, accepting it as he always did.

Revenge is a bitter nectar, but one I’ve savored for centuries, waiting, planning, biding my time as the shadows coiled around me, hiding my fury. They thought they could bury me, seal me away like some ancient secret meant to be forgotten. The royals, their self-righteous council, and their delicate fae allies—none of them understood what they were doing when they cursed me to this purgatory. They believed time would weaken me, that my name would become nothing more than a ghost story, a whisper lost in the wind.

But time has only sharpened my hatred, hardened my resolve. I’ve watched from the edges of this desolate realm, unseen, waiting as their kingdoms crumbled, their petty alliances wavered. And now, the last of their precious Moonstone line lives, breathing, unaware of the power she holds—a power that belongs to me. Kyrie will be my key, my instrument of vengeance. Through her, I’ll carve my path back to the throne, tearing down the fragile order they tried to build without me.

Soon, I’ll emerge from the shadows they cast me into. And when I do, they will remember the name Zoran. They will remember why I was feared. And this time, there will be no mercy.