Chapter Twenty-Four
Confession, Part I
Hazel POV
The forest recoiled before he even stepped into the clearing.
Not in fear—no.
In recognition.
The air tightened, power bending inward like something bracing for impact. Leaves trembled without wind. The ground beneath my boots vibrated faintly, as if the earth itself had drawn a sharp breath.
My skin prickled, every instinct screaming before my mind could catch up.
Flora stirred. Sharp. Alert.
She's here? But that's not possible. She's supposed to be trapped.
"I'm confused," I muttered under my breath. "Who's here? Where's all this power coming from? What's not possible? Trapped—do you mean Helena?"
Both Helene and Flora went eerily quiet.
That silence was worse than screaming.
I turned just as the shadows parted.
A man emerged from between the trees as if the night itself had opened its arms for him.
Magnus.
Caleb and Lucien reacted before I could fully process it—both of them straightening, bodies snapping taut like drawn blades. That alone confirmed it.
He looked… whole.
Not weak.
Not frantic.
Not the broken, hollowed thing that had lain comatose while the world burned around him.
He was calm.
Too calm.
His posture was relaxed, hands loose at his sides, shoulders unburdened. His eyes were clear—focused in a way that sent ice straight down my spine. This wasn't a fugitive. This wasn't a patient or a man clawing his way back from death.
This was a man who had already decided how the story would go.
Caleb went rigid beside me. He and Lucien moved without speaking, flanking me instinctively—Lucien on my left, Caleb on my right.
I felt it then.
The bond.
It flared ugly and raw, something ancient and poisoned tightening between blood and bone. It burned through the clearing like a pulled wire, vibrating with tension and rot.
"Grandfather," Caleb said hoarsely.
The word sounded wrong in the air.
Magnus smiled.
Not warmly.
Not cruelly.
Knowingly.
"There you are," he said, voice smooth as polished stone. "Both of you. How convenient."
Every muscle in my body coiled.
"You should be running," I snapped, my fingers already itching for my blade. "Or tired. Or barely standing. How do you look and sound so well?"
He tilted his head, studying me as though I were an equation finally resolving itself. "I'm done running, Hazel Thornblood."
Flora growled low inside me. That voice is wrong. It sounds like her. It sounds like Helena.
I felt it too.
Something slick and invasive rode beneath his words—pressure brushing the edges of my mind like claws testing glass, probing for fractures.
"I killed your family, Hazel," he said flatly.
The world lurched.
I stumbled back a step, breath tearing out of me. Lucien swore viciously. Caleb sucked in a sharp, broken breath beside me.
Magnus smiled—delighted.
"Yes, you heard me right," he continued calmly. "I did. I'm the middleman you've been searching for."
The words landed without hesitation. Without remorse.
"I ordered it," he went on. "Your parents. Your uncles. Your cousins. Every Thorn who stood in my way. And of course, every pack member loyal enough to die with them."
Sound dropped away.
The forest blurred at the edges, replaced by a high, vicious ringing that clawed at my skull.
"You framed them," I whispered, power crawling up my arms, crackling beneath my skin. "You told the packs they were traitors. You blamed them for your crimes."
"Yes."
Clean. Simple.
"I needed a villain," Magnus said. "The Thorns were powerful. Respected. Inconvenient. Removing them unified the packs under my rule. Besides"—his gaze sharpened—"I needed their blood. Especially your family. Anyone with a link to the Red Wolf."
Flora roared inside me.
Heat flooded my vision. I knew my eyes had gone red before I felt it.
Caleb stepped forward, fury cracking through his shock. "You murdered my parents too."
Magnus finally looked at him.
Really looked.
"They questioned me," he said simply. "They would have exposed everything. And honestly, I didn't need that." His mouth twitched. "You, I couldn't bring myself to end. I knew I could shape you instead."
Something in Caleb shattered.
I felt Adam rear up violently—rage detonating, feral and uncontrolled.
"I raised you," Magnus added, almost gently. "You would not exist as you are without me."
That was it.
I moved.
Rage detonated through my veins, lightning-fast and merciless. The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat. My blade flashed toward his throat, power screaming for blood, for justice, for him.
Magnus dodged.
Not rushed.
Not strained.
He stepped aside as if he'd known exactly where I would strike before I even moved.
Steel cut nothing but air.
I spun, slashing again—faster. Harder. My blade sang as I drove it toward his chest.
He leaned back just enough, coat brushing the edge of steel, eyes never leaving mine.
Again.
Again.
Each strike precise. Deadly. Fueled by grief and fury and generations of blood crying out for vengeance.
Each one useless.
He blocked one blow with his forearm—metal ringing violently as power surged through the impact. The force sent a shockwave through my bones, jarring my grip. I snarled, twisting, kicking him square in the chest.
He slid back a single step.
Only one.
The ground cracked beneath his heel.
Flora and Helene screamed inside me. "Let us—"
Not yet, I snapped back, vision tunneling.
Lucien and Caleb surged forward instinctively, but I snarled without looking, power flaring sharp and warning. They stopped. They understood.
Caleb was shaking violently. Adam was barely contained.
"You think confession absolves you?" I demanded, chest heaving. "You think standing here and admitting it changes anything?"
Magnus smiled wider.
"No," he said.
And for the first time—
Something gleamed behind his eyes.
Something red.
"I think hearing it from me," he continued softly, "is only the beginning."
The forest shuddered.
Branches bent. Shadows twisted unnaturally, stretching toward him like they recognized their master.
Caleb stared at him, horror and fury colliding. "Why are you doing this?"
Magnus's gaze flicked briefly to him.
Then back to me.
"Because," he said, voice lowering—thick with something that was not entirely his own, "truth hurts more when it's personal."
Lucien and Caleb went deathly still.
Hazel, they chorused urgently inside my head. He is not alone in his body.
"I know!" I yelled aloud, lunging again as rage tore loose completely.
Steel met flesh this time—my blade carving across his shoulder.
But instead of blood—
Darkness bled.
Thick. Writhing. Alive.
Magnus didn't even flinch.
His hand shot out, slamming into my chest with devastating force. Power exploded on impact, hurling me backward. I crashed through brush and bark, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Pain flared white-hot.
I rolled, barely regaining my footing as he advanced—unhurried, unbothered, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.
My heart slammed violently as I tightened my grip on my blade.
Blood roared in my ears.
This was only the beginning.