Darius !
Darius tossed and turned, the tangled sheets clinging to his damp skin. He woke up abruptly, his chest heaving as cold sweat trickled down his temples. He patted the side of the bed, and he frowned when he found it empty.
Of course, it was empty. Why would he want her here? He didn’t.
Ronan whined in the back of his mind, restless and dissatisfied. The bond they shared had been more of a curse lately, amplifying feelings he’d rather bury.
"You’re depriving of her," the wolf growled.
"You’ll learn to live without her," Darius shot back, irritation lacing his words.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat for a mont, leaning against the carved wooden canopy fra. Sleeping in his father’s old bed did nothing to quell the urges burning within him, and his wolf’s constant agitation wasn’t helping.
Pushing himself to his feet, Darius stumbled toward his father’s study. The dim light of the moon spilled through the windows, guiding him down the familiar halls. He pulled one of the leather-bound journals from the shelf and let it fall open in his hands, flipping to the pages that recounted his father’s eting with his mother.
He flipped to the entries where his father had written about eting his mother. It was at the Wolf’s Ember night, a bonfire gathering chosen by the Moonseeker during the height of sumr.
He read through his father’s vivid recounting, how he had wanted to seize his mother right then and there, to show the world the mate Lunara had gifted him. The way she slled, the way her eyes sparkled, her dazzling presence.
The next pages were filled with quick sketches of his mother, each one more detailed than the last. Darius ran his fingers over the drawings, the ache of loss filling his chest.
Oh, how he missed his parents.
"You can’t deny it forever."
Darius clenched his jaw, shutting the journal with a quiet snap. "Watch ," he muttered, his voice barely audible in the room.
—
Darius worked feverishly, as though putting the image from his mind onto the page would grant him so form of peace.
He needed to capture her essence, the softness of her cheeks, her big, beautiful eyes. His hand moved quickly, sketching her hair undone and flowing freely, as if soone had pulled the pins loose.
One drawing led to another, and then another. His hand trembled as he completed a total of five sketches. He glanced at the portraits of his mother adorning the walls of the study, her cheerful smile forever captured in oil and canvas. He let out a hollow laugh. He was going mad, just like his father.
Turning to the mirror, he took in his reflection. Shirtless, with disheveled hair, he looked strikingly like his father, except for the red hair.
Darius studied each sketch. Sothing about them felt off. He had relied on mory to draw Serena, but that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that he had never seen her smile. Not once had she smiled at him.
Frustrated, he tore each sketch into pieces, letting the paper fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. All except the first sketch.
He held it in his hand, his thumb brushing over the lines of her face. There was sothing about it he couldn’t quite explain, sothing that felt truer than the others. It wasn’t perfect, but it was her. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it.
Carefully, he tucked the sketch into an empty journal and placed it in a spot he hoped he would soon forget.
—
Darius examined the docunt carefully, it was a proposal for a trade fair in the eastern district of the pack. His concentration was broken by a knock at the door. He glanced up to see his Beta, Ryker, standing in the doorway.
"Ryker." Darius set the papers aside and gestured for him to enter.
"Darius," Ryker greeted with a slight bow. "How are you holding up?"
Darius organized the papers into a neat pile, regarding his Beta with a asured gaze. He had deliberately kept Ryker in the dark about Serena. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’ll be fine."
The two shared a mutual respect. While they weren’t close in a familial sense, Ryker was a capable and reliable Beta. Without him, holding the pack together after his father’s fall would have been nearly impossible.
"I don’t trust that rogue," Ryker stated bluntly.
"I’m sure she has a na," Darius replied.
Ryker gave him a quizzical look before taking a seat. "I know she does. I followed up with Julian on the records. There’s not much to go on, her surna only appeared once in intelligence from the Eastern pack."
Darius rested his chin on his hand, listening intently. "Did it ntion anything important?"
"Nothing significant, just a footnote in the Bloodshades section."
"Bloodshades?" Darius echoed, his interest piqued. He had heard tales about them. Ironshade was the largest and strongest pack in the west, renowned for its blacksmiths and abundant tal resources.
Crimsonclaw, its eastern counterpart, was the most notorious of the Cardinals. Despite being smaller than the other three Cardinal packs, Crimsonclaw was not to be underestimated. They worshipped Fenros, the god of the Wild Hunt and Fury, and their military arm, the Bloodshades, was rumored to be afflicted with an insatiable bloodlust.
"A footnote isn’t worth much," Darius said after a mont, his tone dismissive.
"I thought I might look further into it," Ryker suggested.
Darius shook his head. "No, leave it. Winter is coming, and we have more pressing matters to handle than a wolf who won’t be here long."
"As you wish," Ryker said, backing down. "But Serena, I took the liberty of checking that na. There are a lot of entries, though most belong to children’s fairytales. However, one stood out: Silverstone."
Darius humd in acknowledgnt. He was familiar with that pack; they had once been nomadic but settled in the West two or three hundred years ago. A small, quiet pack. "What about it?"
"There was a Serena, mated to the forr Beta of Silverstone," Ryker explained. Darius frowned, trying to recall any ntion of this before. Ryker had attended the Beta’s funeral in his stead. "But she died shortly after he did."
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