[Draven].
The trees blurred past as my feet tore into the familiar path.
This was the trail, the one redith and I ran every morning, the one that was supposed to steady .
But tonight, it did nothing.
My breath ca sharp and uneven from the fire burning in my veins. I stopped abruptly, bark crunching beneath my boots, and slamd my palm into the trunk of a nearby tree.
"Co out," I growled inwardly. "Enough hiding."
I was t with silence. The bastard had the audacity to stay silent.
"You knew," I said, my voice low, shaking. "You knew what we are."
Still, he didn’t make any move.
The rage surged harder, dragging sothing dark and old with it. I felt it then—the pull beneath my skin, the unfamiliar hunger sharpening my senses beyond wolf.
"Rhovan!" I roared.
The pressure in my chest exploded, and he surfaced whether he wanted to or not.
"I did not want to hurt you," he said at last, his voice restrained, guarded. "You pride yourself on being a werewolf. I thought—"
"You thought lying to was rcy?" I snapped. "You thought letting live a lie was kindness?"
The anger twisted, hotter now. I felt my canines lengthen, the sharp pressure against my gums unmistakable.
Rhovan hesitated for a mont. "Our situation is not bad," he tried. "You are still a dominant wolf—"
I laughed, a short, broken sound. "If it wasn’t bad, you wouldn’t have hidden our identity."
Just then, my vision sharpened painfully. Gold flooded my sight, dilating until the world seed too small to contain . Claws slid from my fingers with a familiar burn and an unfamiliar ease.
Rhovan stiffened. "Draven, control yourself—"
"Who else knows about this apart from our mate, my father, mother, and Estella?" I demanded.
The pause was answer enough. "Who," I repeated, venomously.
"Your Beta," Rhovan said carefully. "Jeffery."
I felt the world tilt. "How long has he known about it?" I managed to find my voice.
"Five years."
Five?
My breath left in a harsh exhale. Five years of standing beside . Five years of loyalty so absolute it made my chest ache, and my anger twist deeper.
"How?" I demanded hoarsely. "When did he find out?"
"During one of our highest epistles of rage," Rhovan answered. Our vampiric side surfaced. Jeffery was with us then, so he saw it. And every ti since then, he would try to calm us down if he was with us."
I staggered back a step. ’Jeffery knew, yet said nothing.’
Part of —so battered, stubborn part, recognized the depth of that loyalty. Another part recoiled in humiliation.
"He watched live a lie," I snarled.
"He did right," Rhovan cut in quickly. "You did not know your own nature. How could he speak of it without destroying you?"
That was it. My control snapped.
With a violent swipe of my claws, I slashed through the tree beside . The bark split, and the trunk groaned as it cracked.
I didn’t stop there. I could feel the urge to tear, to destroy, to make the world bleed for daring to shape without my consent.
"I am not fit to be King," I said, my voice raw. "A throne built on a lie is no throne at all."
"It has been written in the stars," Rhovan said firmly. "You will be King."
"Shut up!"
The forest trembled with my shout.
"Your werewolf blood dominates," he insisted. "The rest does not matter—"
"I told you to be silent," I hissed. "Do not speak to again!"
The air between us vibrated with restrained violence.
"If you had a body right now," I continued coldly, "I would have torn you apart already."
Rhovan withdrew at last, retreating deep into the recesses of my mind. But the damage was done.
I stood alone beneath the trees—wolf, vampire, king, fraud—unsure which part of was still standing.
---
[redith].
I found him exactly where I feared he would be.
The mont I reached the familiar running path, my chest tightened. The trees bore fresh wounds—deep claw marks carved violently into bark, sap still glistening where wood had been torn open.
The air itself felt charged, vibrating with rage that hadn’t fully dissipated.
Draven stood there, at the centre of the destruction. His shoulders were rigid. His claws were still out. And his eyes were glowing far too bright, gold, edged with sothing darker that made my heart stutter.
"Draven," I called, keeping my voice steady even as fear crept up my spine.
He turned. For a split second, I thought he might lash out. But instead, sothing in him collapsed.
"I’m not worthy," he said hoarsely. "Not of the throne. Not of anything. I’m a fraud."
I didn’t hesitate. I crossed the distance between us and reached for him. "Stop," I said firmly. "You will not speak about yourself that way."
He let out a bitter laugh. "I’m not even a pure werewolf. Everything I am, everything they admire, cos from a lie in my blood."
I grabbed his wrist and forced him to look at . "Look at ," I said.
He did.
"I’m not a full werewolf either," I reminded him quietly. "I carry fae blood. Power that doesn’t belong to this world. Does that make false? Does that erase everything I’ve survived? Everything I’ve fought for?"
His jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.
"You are strong because of who you are," I continued. "Not because of how your blood was mixed."
His breath shuddered. "My father orchestrated everything about ," he said. "He trained harder than anyone else. Pushed until I bled, until I broke. You can’t tell he didn’t plan this. He deceived . Deceived everyone."
I let him speak without interruption. I let the poison spill out of him because I knew bottling it would only make it worse.
"I won’t forgive him," he said, voice low and shaking. "I don’t think I ever can."
I opened my mouth to respond, then my senses sharpened at the sound of footsteps, the familiar rhythm, and a heartbeat I recognized instantly. Dennis.
And he was almost close.
My hand tightened around Draven’s arm. "Soone is coming," I whispered. "We need to leave. Now."
His eyes flicked toward the trees, then back to . Reluctance flashed across his face, but he nodded.
Quickly, I took his hand and pulled him away from the path, toward the one place no one would think to look for us. Our private training area.
We slipped into the small house and shut the door behind us, and only then did the tension ease just a little.
Draven sank heavily on the bed, exhaustion crashing into him all at once. I guided him back gently until his head rested against the softness of my chest.
My arms wrapped around him instinctively, one hand cradling his shoulder, the other patting his back slowly, over and over.
"It’s okay," I murmured. "I’ve got you."
He was still stiff, still burning beneath the surface. "I won’t forgive him," he repeated quietly, like he needed to anchor himself to the thought.
This ti, I didn’t argue. I only held him tighter, letting my presence do what words couldn’t, for now.
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