After 4 weeks....
EIRA'S POV:
"Jake, stop it—I can't take it anymore!" I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. He kept throwing one joke after another until I nearly fell off my chair in the canteen.
Grinning at his own victory, Jake stood up. "Alright, I'll spare you—for now. Let me grab lunch before you faint from laughing too much."
As he disappeared into the food line, Tessy leaned closer, her voice bubbling with disbelief. "I still can't believe how fast Jake has become such a good friend. It feels like we've known him forever."
I smiled softly. "Yeah… it does."
Before our conversation could go deeper, Jake returned, tray in hand, his eyes narrowing playfully. "What's with those secret smiles? You two gossiping about me?"
We shook our heads, giggling.
"Hmm, I don't trust that look." Jake smirked—and then, with his usual theatrics, climbed onto a chair in the middle of the canteen.
"Attention, everyone!" he shouted, raising his hands dramatically. "You are all officially invited to my sister's birthday party—at my place.
Cheers and laughter rippled across the canteen. Tessy and I exchanged helpless glances, laughing along with everyone else. For a fleeting moment, everything felt light… normal.
ADRIAN'S POV
Darkness. Then light.
Her smile. White dress.
Blood.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The sound of my own scream tore through the nightmare—
My eyes snapped open.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Shadows clung to the walls, cold and foreign. My body felt heavy, as though it belonged to someone else.
"Adrian!"
Drek's face came into focus as he rushed to my side. His hand gripped my shoulder firmly. "Are you okay?"
I didn't answer. My gaze drifted slowly across the room, cataloguing every detail—the table, the curtains, the faint scent of iron in the air. Too long. Too different.
Finally, my voice rasped, low and edged. "What are you doing here?"
Drek's expression softened, though his eyes were troubled. "Because… you finally woke up. It's been two months, Adrian."
The words sank in like lead, but before I could react, the door creaked open.
Mike stepped inside. His presence filled the room with quiet tension. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His eyes locked onto mine, steady, unreadable.
For a long, silent moment, we simply stared at each other—the weight of everything unspoken pressing between us.
Then, without a word, Mike turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
The silence he left behind was heavier than his presence.
And I remained still, my thoughts darker than the dream I had woken from.
The thirst gnawed at me like fire under my skin. I rose from the bed with deliberate calm, each movement stiff but precise, as though waking from centuries of sleep. On the nightstand, a crystal decanter shimmered faintly. I poured the dark liquid into a glass—the blood catching the dim light like liquid rubies—and drank until the burn dulled to silence inside me.
When I stepped into the corridor, the air felt different—thicker, charged. Voices drifted faintly ahead. Following the sound, I entered the grand hall.
A council was gathered. Shadows pooled across the long oak table, candles flickering against pale faces. Mike sat at the head, silent authority radiating from him. The moment I entered, every conversation died.
My voice cut through the quiet. "What happened?"
No answer. Only eyes that flickered away, unease etched in their silence.
I moved closer, unhurried, letting the tension stretch like a blade drawn across stone. My hand reached for the scattered papers on the table. The photographs.
The first one stopped me cold. A body—lifeless, contorted, blood staining the earth around it like dark roses. The insignia branded on the arm left no doubt. Tretian tribe.
Another photo. More bodies. Eyes glassy and unseeing, faces twisted in terror. Flesh torn by something that did not kill cleanly, but savored destruction.
And then I saw it. A mark scorched deep into one corpse's shoulder. Jagged. Primal. A signature written in blood and ash.
I leaned closer, the candlelight painting sharp angles across my face. My voice was low, but it carried through the hall, final and absolute.
"Wolves."
The single word shattered the silence.
I set the photograph down with deliberate calm and raised my gaze. The hall was silent, every vampire watching, waiting for me to speak. But I spoke to only one.
Mike.
Our eyes locked across the table. His expression was steady, unreadable, but I felt the weight in the room shift—like the stillness before a storm.
"It's time," I said, my voice low, carrying through the silence like thunder. "Time for us to return there… back to where it began."
JAKE'S POV
The warm glow of the lamp spilled across my room, brushing against the shelves and the old oak desk. I sat back in my chair, shoulders square, posture steady, as if bracing myself for the words I knew would come.
Father stood near the window, tall and commanding, the weight of his presence filling every corner of the room. His eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on me.
"Why this sudden birthday celebration?" His voice was steady, deep, almost casual—but I knew better. Nothing about his questions was ever casual.
I kept my tone respectful, measured. "Because she deserves it."
A flicker of disdain passed across his face. He turned slightly, the shadows deepening around him. "Deserves?" His lips curled. "She cannot shift. She is no wolf. She is nothing but a burden—an embarrassment to our bloodline."
His words cut like a blade, but my expression didn't falter. My sister's name echoed in my heart, stronger than his judgment.
"She is my sister," I replied firmly, my voice calm but edged with steel. "And she is not weak."
Father's eyes narrowed, studying me, testing me. He expected hesitation, but I gave him none. Respect held me steady—but I would not bend.
Then—movement at the door.
Lila.
Her small frame stood frozen in the doorway, her wide eyes glistening with tears. She had heard every word.
Before I could say a thing, she turned and ran, her sobs fading into the hall.
I rose at once, stepping past Father without another glance. Whatever he thought, whatever he said—it no longer mattered.
I found her outside beneath the old oak, folded into herself, trembling with the weight of his words.
"Lila." I sat beside her, voice gentle.
She shook her head, tears streaking her cheeks. "He's right… I'll never be like you. I'll never be a wolf."
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "No, he's wrong. You are strong. Strong in ways he can't see."
Her lip trembled, doubt shadowing her face.
I smiled faintly, trying to lighten the heaviness. "Come on, do you think I'd throw an entire party for someone worthless? Not a chance."
A shaky laugh escaped her, small but real.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her close. "No matter what he says—you'll always have me. Always."
Beneath the oak tree, with her tears softening into quiet laughter, I made myself a silent promise: I would protect her from everything—even from him.