Darien doesn’t turn around despite Heidi’s question. He stays facing the night, elbows braced on the balcony railing, the city lights sprawled beneath him like a fallen constellation. Wind tugs at his damp hair and flutters the curtain behind him, carrying the faint scent of sex and soap and heat still clinging to the room.
"I don’t think this will work," Darien says quietly.
Heidi freezes a step behind him, towel clutched tight around her body. "What?" she whispers.
Darien exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying not to bare his teeth. "I said I don’t think this will work. Not like this. Not with... all of this."
Morgan’s smile fades as he asks. "What exactly is this supposed to an?"
He understands what the egocentric Darien was trying to say and absolutely loves that he feels that way but of course, he needs to play oblivion.
Darien finally turns his head, just enough that Morgan can see his profile. His jaw is locked so tight it looks like it might crack. His eyes are glassy with the kind of pain that has nowhere to go.
"Such a beautiful expression." The demon core comnts and he can’t help but to agree.
"It was hell. Standing in that room. Hearing all of it." Darien scowls.
Heidi sucks in a breath.
"I tried not to listen," Darien continues. "I ca out here. I shut the door. I told my wolf to calm down." His mouth twitches. "Didn’t matter. He heard everything anyway. Felt everything."
He presses a fist to his chest. "My wolf was in pain," he groans.
Music to my ears, Morgan thinks inwardly. He had only done such a little and they are already losing their mind. Close but it’s their lives he wants.
Heidi approaches Darien imdiately without a second thought. "Darien, I—I’m sorry..."
The word sorry barely leaves her mouth before Morgan snaps.
"Don’t."
His voice roars loud enough that even Darien flinches.
Heidi turns, startled. "Morgan?"
"Don’t you ever apologize for being with ," He warns, stepping closer, his shadow stretching across the balcony tiles. His hands are clenched now, fingers twitching like he’s holding sothing feral inside his skin. "Don’t beg Darien or anyone for spending ti with . Do you know how insulting that is?"
She looks between them, panicked. "I’m not apologizing for you. I’m apologizing because I hurt him."
"That’s not your burden," Morgan shoots back.
"And you don’t get to decide that for . And you don’t get to be mad at him or for feeling things. Seriously, Morgan, care to tell what’s up with you these days?"
Darien turns fully then. "She’s allowed to care, Morgan."
Morgan laughs harshly and short. "Oh, I know she cares. That’s the problem."
The words slip out harsher than he intends. Heidi stiffens at it, her eyes further dimming like she’s trying to dissect what the problem she just ntioned was.
No, I can’t have Heidi being suspicious of , he internally recoils.
"That’s why we have to move faster." The demon core presses.
Morgan exhales, drags a hand down his face, and reins it in. "Where’s Grayson?"
Darien’s expression turns to one of confusion first, then into a bit of unease. "I don’t know. I ca out here first. I heard the door open later, but I didn’t look back."
Heidi’s worry spikes instantly. "He wouldn’t just leave without saying sothing."
So... Grayson walked out himself? Morgan smirks inwardly, seeing the opening, the opportunity that cos but once. A narrow, perfect crack in the night.
"I’ll find him," He volunteers imdiately.
Both of them turn to him.
"I’ll bring him back," he adds, already moving away. "He can’t have gone far. He’s hurt and he’s my twin. I’ll handle it."
Heidi nods, relief flooding her face. "Please. Please do."
Darien seems to hesitate. "Morgan..."
But Morgan is already grabbing clothes, pulling on a shirt, and shoving his feet into boots. He pauses only long enough to glance back.
"You two get dressed," he says. "I’ll handle this."
And then he’s gone. Morgan follows Grayson’s scent easily. It leads him through the lobby, out past the valet stand, across the asphalt where the city gives way to shadow, and into the woods.
The trees swallow sound fast. The farther Morgan goes, the quieter the world becos, until all that exists is leaf-rot underfoot and the distant echo of sothing wrong.
He slows down to listen. There, he hears the raised voices, snarls, and the crack of flesh on flesh. He also hears him... Grayson. Morgan ghosts forward, silent as breath, until the clearing opens up ahead of him like a wound.
He sees his brother on his knees. Blood mats his hair, streaks down his chest, soaks into the dirt beneath him. His breathing is ragged and uneven. He’s fought hard—there are bodies down already, broken branches, gouged bark but there are too many of them.
Five rogues remain, big, scarred, and angry. One of them—the leader, who is thick-necked, is grinning and circling Grayson like a vulture.
"You Bellamys really thought you could just walk into our city?" the rogue says. "After everything your Alpha did to us?"
Grayson spits blood. "I’m not my father!"
"Oh, we know," the rogue interrupts. "That’s why we’re starting with you."
Morgan watches from the trees.
The demon core whispers, "Wait. Watch them as they kill him and savor the mont he takes his last breath."
The rogue crouches, claws extending. "Your father, he slaughtered our packs. Burned our dens. Drove us feral. This is paynt."
Grayson tries to rise but fails and falls hard. Morgan doesn’t move. His excitent starts to bubble up.
The leader plants a clawed hand on Grayson’s chest, right over his heart, and slowly starts to dig in. "Any last words?"
Yes, yes, yes! Do it! Morgan jumps internally. That’s what Grayson gets for being stupid. He knows the risks involved, knowing they are literally vulnerable without a pack in a city full of feral predators and yet, he chose to take a walk—still healing, alone just because of petty jealousy.
"It’s not bad if he pays with his life for his stupidity." The demon core points out in a sing-song tone.
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