"Can you get Amias? He should be here."
The words co out steady, which surprises him. He expects his voice to crack. It doesn’t. He’s learned, over the years, how to lock parts of himself away when the mont demands it. This is one of those monts.
Rayne betrays a subtle freeze. It’s just a pause, a tightening of her fingers around the shawl draped over her shoulders—but Darien sees it imdiately. He always notices when won brace themselves like that. His mother does the sa thing when she’s about to say sothing cruel and pretend it’s rcy.
"I don’t know if that’s a good idea," Rayne says carefully.
Darien’s stomach sinks.
"What do you an?" Grayson asks before Darien can. His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it now. "Did sothing happen?"
Rayne doesn’t look at Darien when she answers. She looks past him, toward the mansion doors, as if expecting soone or sothing to co bursting through them.
"Clarissa’s condition has worsened," she says quietly. "The rot is spreading faster than we thought."
The word rot sounds wrong. It’s too ugly and too final.
Darien blinks. "Worsened how?"
Rayne swallows. "Her flesh has started to... lt."
WHAT?!
The world tilts.
For a second, Darien genuinely thinks he might throw up. His body reacts before his mind catches up, making his jaw tighten. He can’t help his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He’s seen death. He’s seen violence. He’s seen bodies torn apart in training accidents and border skirmishes.
But this? This is different.
"That’s not..." he starts, then stops. There’s no point pretending disbelief will change anything. "She was stable yesterday."
"She was dying yesterday," Rayne says softly. "There’s a difference."
Silence crashes down hard.
Heidi makes a sound then. It’s a broken, hitching sob that cuts straight through Darien’s chest. She steps forward before anyone can stop her, hands clenched in the fabric of her dress like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
"Please," she begs, voice shaking. "Please go get him. I need to see him. He needs to see us."
Rayne looks at her, and sothing in her expression shifts. Pity, yes—but also fear. Not of Heidi. Of what this goodbye will do.
She shakes her head disapprovingly. "He’s barely holding himself together. Watching you leave—watching them leave... on top of this? I don’t know if he can handle it."
Rayne seriously doesn’t expect them to go into exile without one last goodbye to their brother, does she? Darien knows he and the man have never been on good terms, but damn it, he’s still his brother.
Heidi shakes her head furiously, tears streaming down her face. "He deserves to choose. Please."
Darien doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t trust himself to. He just watches Rayne’s resolve crack under the weight of Heidi’s desperation. The woman lets out a long, shaky exhale.
"I’ll try. I can’t promise anything." She sighs.
Darien nods. "That’s enough. Thank you."
Rayne disappears into the mansion and the waiting that follows is agony.
Darien shifts his weight, glancing around the courtyard like movent might distract him from the countdown pounding in his skull. Nash is pacing. Morgan stands rigid, jaw clenched, staring at the doors as if he could will them open. Grayson has gone still, which is sohow worse—his hands folded neatly behind his back, posture perfect, and eyes dark.
Daphne is crying openly now, face buried in Isolde’s shoulder. Isolde holds her like she’s afraid Daphne might shatter if she lets go, her own eyes suspiciously bright. Darien looks away.
Heidi hasn’t stopped crying. She hasn’t even wiped her face. She looks wrecked, raw, like every emotion she’s ever buried has clawed its way to the surface all at once. He lets her cry. He notices Grayson, who is usually the first to console her also stands lankily by her side, letting her have this mont.
The doors open after a while and Amias steps out. He looks like hell.
His eyes are red-rimd and swollen, his hair uncombed, his clothes wrinkled like he slept in them—or didn’t sleep at all. His shoulders slump forward, as if the weight of the world has finally found a place to rest.
Darien feels a sharp twist of sothing close to guilt watching the man like that. It’s sadder since he can’t do anything about his situation. Amias spots them imdiately.
His gaze moves over the group, lingering on each face as if committing them to mory. When his eyes land on Heidi, they soften and break at the sa ti.
"You’re leaving already?" Amias asks.
The question is quiet and simple, yet, devastating.
Darien steps forward. "Yeah."
Amias nods slowly, like he expected this answer. Like he’s been bracing for it all night.
"I’ll find a way to communicate," Darien continues, forcing himself to keep going. "We can set up occasional etings. Sowhere safe for you and Heidi—"
Amias’s reply cos fast and unexpectedly. "No."
Darien’s jaw drops. "Amias..."
"I can’t," Amias says, shaking his head. "I promised my mother."
He swallows hard, eyes flicking briefly toward the mansion before returning to Heidi.
"I promised I’d be a good husband to Lira," he says. "A good Alpha to the pack. That I’d stay. That I wouldn’t abandon them when they need most."
He looks like he’s dying as he says it. Darien can’t believe Amias is proceeding with Lira still.
Heidi lets out a sound that barely resembles a sob. She steps closer, hands hovering like she doesn’t know where to put them, afraid to touch him and afraid not to.
"You don’t have to..." she starts.
"Yes, I do," Amias interrupts gently. "If I don’t keep this promise, I lose everything."
His gaze drops to her lips. His hands twitch at his sides.
"And if I keep it," he adds quietly, "I lose you."
Darien looks away. He can’t watch this. It feels like witnessing sothing sacred being ripped apart. Amias cups Heidi’s face with trembling hands. His thumbs brush away her tears, even as his own spill over.
"You were never supposed to be mine," he murmurs. "But you were real. Every second of it was real."
He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead then he pulls back and takes one step away. Then two. Then he stops. For one reckless, dood mont, hope flares in Darien’s chest.
Amias turns back and crosses the distance in three long strides and kisses Heidi desperately.
All teeth and breath and grief. Heidi clutches his shirt like she’ll fall apart without him, and for a heartbeat, Darien thinks Amias might break—might throw everything away and run with them.
But then he pulls back. His face is wrecked. He doesn’t say goodbye. He just turns and walks back into the mansion without looking back.
The doors close behind him with a soft, final click.
Heidi collapses. Daphne sobs harder, clutching Isolde now. Isolde presses her lips together, refusing to cry, but her hands are shaking. Darien stares at the doors long after they close.
Rayne steps back toward him.
"My mother?" Darien asks quietly.
Rayne’s expression tightens. "She doesn’t want to see you."
Sothing inside Darien fractures.
He nods still. "Okay."
He doesn’t argue. There’s no fight left for that. The servants return soon after, arms loaded with bags and trunks. Everything the heirs are allowed to take... reduced to luggage.
Their cars sit useless beyond the gates, seized by order of the Alpha.
Figures.
Goodbyes co fast after that.
Hugs. Promises that feel thin. Daphne clings to Darien like she might never let go. Isolde presses her forehead to his and whispers sothing he doesn’t quite catch, but he feels it settle deep in his chest.
Lucan steps forward last. He looks conflicted, resolved, and sad.
"I’m going back," he tells Heidi quietly. "The family’s disbanded. Soone has to face what’s left."
He hugs her gently. "Be safe."
The taxi idles at the gate. Darien takes one last look at the pack he’s known his whole life. Then he gets in. The gate opens. And they cross the border into the unknown...
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