Dean's POV
It took Elena getting possessed—and me dying—for Kane and I to finally stop the damn pissing contest and agree on one thing:
She was ours.
Equally.
Our mate.
Not his. Not mine. Ours.
And we could share her—love her—without tearing each other apart trying to outdo the other.
My plan worked.
Twisted? Yeah. Manipulative? Maybe. But it worked.
I have to give credit where it's due. The witches, with all their conniving, planted the seed. Their plan was cruel—strengthen the darkness in Elena by feeding it, until it consumed her entirely. Until we both died in the process, leaving her a perfect vessel for whatever the hell they'd summoned.
But I flipped the script.
They underestimated me.
I figured it out.
The key wasn't resisting her or fighting the darkness—it was not finishing inside her.
