Page 60 of Claimed By the Vykan
Morgan felt everything at once: fear, disbelief, and an instinctive drive to deny what she was hearing.
He could die because of her.
A deeper voice joined the others, heavy with age and authority.
“Break it now. Before the choice is taken from you.”
A ripple surged through Kyrax—anger, fierce and controlled. It rolled into her with such clarity she gasped.
Then his voice again, low enough to feel like it was spoken directly into her blood.
“You presume authority over what is mine.”
Her heart lurched.
A silence followed—thick, electric, the kind of silence that preceded violence. She felt several Vykan shift in their stances, their reactions echoing distantly through Kyrax’s perception.
Finally, one of them spat a final warning:
“If you continue, you will face exile. Or execution.”
Morgan’s breath stilled.
Execution.
Not exile.
Not punishment.
Death.
All for choosing her.
She gripped the edge of the sheet until her fingers hurt, mind spinning as if she’d been dropped from a height. She had thought she was the powerless one here, the captive, the one with no agency or leverage. But she was the hinge point. The fulcrum.
The council demanded her severed.
Kyrax refused.
And the consequences would be catastrophic.
Suddenly she felt him again, the bond tightening, turning…
Focusing on her.
He sensed her distress.
Of course he did. Their emotions had begun bleeding together days ago.
He was coming back.
She pulled in a shaking breath and brushed the hair from her face, trying to steady herself even as her pulse refused to calm.
He will lose everything. Because of me. And he still chose this.
The shock of it broke over her in a silent, trembling wave.
She didn’t know whether to run from him when he returned… or reach for him.
