Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Break
Hazel POV
The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the kind of silence that meant peace—but the kind that followed devastation, when even the earth seemed unsure whether it was safe to breathe again.
I could still feel Helena.
Not her presence exactly—she was gone—but the echo of her. Like smoke clinging to fabric long after the fire was put out. Every whisper of power in my veins, every pulse beneath my skin, carried the memory of how easily she had slipped in. How easily Magnus had been a vessel the second she disappeared. He had combusted. We'd all been stunned, How easily I had been shaped into a weapon for games I never agreed to play.
I hated that part most.
Not the pain, not the fear, the ease
Not anymore.
I drew a deep, ragged breath. My chest burned as I forced the air in.
Out.
The word wasn't spoken. It didn't need to be.
Helene flared instantly—sharp, furious, startled by the sudden resistance. Her power surged, instinctive, protective, claws scraping against the inside of my skull as she tried to anchor herself.
"Hazel—"
I pushed back.
Harder than I ever had before.
Muscle. Will. Power.
Every ounce of strength I had, I shoved against her. My vision blurred. My ears rang. For a heartbeat, it felt like ripping something out of my own spine—like tearing away a limb I'd learned to survive with.
Helene resisted.
Then—
She was gone.
Completely.
The absence hit like a vacuum. I stumbled forward, chest heaving, legs trembling as the pressure vanished all at once. I caught myself on instinct, fingers digging into bark, breath tearing in and out of me like I'd been drowning.
My head was mine again.
Every thought.
Every impulse.
Mine.
And in that clarity, I saw him.
Caleb.
He stood a few steps away, face pale, eyes wide and unsteady. His posture wasn't defensive. Wasn't aggressive. He didn't reach for me. Didn't approach. Didn't speak.
He just… waited.
Like a man bracing for impact.
I didn't wait.
I moved.
Fast. Faster than thought.
Fury wrapped around me like living steel. My legs blurred beneath me, power and muscle aligning with terrifying precision. My fist connected with his jaw before he could even blink.
The sound echoed through the clearing.
He staggered—but didn't raise his hands.
I hit him again.
And again.
Each strike landed hard, brutal, driven by years of restraint snapping all at once. Grief. Rage. Betrayal. The sick knowledge of how easily Magnus had used him. How helpless we all had been.
I slammed him into a tree.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The trunk cracked. Bark exploded into splinters. The ground shuddered beneath our feet. My hands—hands, not claws—smashed into his shoulders, his ribs, his chest. My knee drove into his stomach. My elbow caught his temple.
Caleb did not fight back.
Not once.
Not when I grabbed him by the collar and hurled him into another tree. Not when his blood streaked across his cheek. Not when his breath came out in broken gasps.
I screamed at him.
"FIGHT!"
The sound tore out of me raw and feral, ripping through the forest like wildfire.
"FIGHT!" I hit him again. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST STAND THERE AND ACT LIKE EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT?"
Another blow.
"WHILE YOU ALL KNEW."
Another.
"YOU. LUCIEN. HELENA."
My voice shattered. My vision burned.
"YOU KNEW."
I grabbed his shirt, shaking him violently.
"YOU'RE MY MATE!" I screamed. "MY BLOODY MATE. I SHOULD'VE KNOWN. SUSPECTED."
I shoved him back hard enough that his spine hit bark with a dull, bone-jarring sound.
"ADAM YOU TOO?" I roared. "WOW. JUST—WOW."
Adam surged into my mind, raw and anguished.
"Hazel. Flora—we're sorry. We meant to tell you. We swear it. But…"
His voice fractured. We were scared. We thought we'd lose you.
I didn't stop.
I kept fighting.
Punches. Kicks. Rage with nowhere else to go.
Caleb sagged under it, knees buckling—but still he didn't resist. Didn't strike back. Didn't shield himself beyond instinctive flinches.
And that hurt worse than if he had.
Because this wasn't just a beating.
It was a test.
A demand.
A release.
I needed him to remember we were more than what they made us. That we were still alive. That we fought—even when everything we loved had been ripped out by the roots.
By the time I slowed, my fists slick with sweat, dirt, and blood from his scraped skin, my entire body was shaking. My chest heaved violently, lungs burning, power thrumming along every nerve until it hurt to exist inside myself.
Caleb dropped to the ground, hands braced in the dirt, trembling. Not defeated. Not broken.
Just stunned.
I loomed over him, breathing ragged, eyes wild. My voice cracked—but it didn't waver.
"FIGHT," I said again. Softer now. Raw. Demanding. "Fight me. Fight yourself."
I swallowed hard.
"Fight me—or you'll never stand next to me again."
The forest held its breath.
Adam snarled inside him, something feral and awakened.
But I didn't smile.
I was still trembling. Still furious. Still terrified of what we were becoming.
Because this wasn't about power.
This was about survival.
And we were only just beginning to reclaim it.
Lucien took a step toward me.
"Don't," I warned, not even looking at him.
He froze.
"I mean—after everything," I continued hoarsely, "you didn't think you could tell me too?"
"Haze," he said quietly, pain threading his voice, "I swear I wanted to. It just… wasn't my secret to tell."
"Sure, it wasn't," I said flatly.
The words tasted like ash.
"I'm done. We'll continue tomorrow." I turned away, power still crackling faintly beneath my skin. "None of you should follow me."
And this time—
No one did.