Cillian let out a quiet snort.
Evelyne cleared her throat, her voice steady now. “Cillian, that light… What was it?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ve never felt anything like it. But once I understood what it meant, it was as if something awakened inside me. First, I saw this small glowing thread of light, so I reached for it. And the moment I touched it, it surged through me. That’s when I knew what I had to do to stop her.” He swallowed. “You used Father’s pistol to kill her.”
“I did,” she said, faltering as the memory flickered through her mind like a ghost.
“Good,” Cillian said, voice flat. Evelyne gave his hand a quick pat.
A few peaceful moments passed between them, a rare silence that reminded Evelyne how much she cherished her brother’s quiet presence. But just as the calm began to settle, a sharp jolt of panic seized her chest. She gasped, eyes going wide. “Aurelia!”
Cillian’s eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“What if she shifted too?” Evelyne whispered.
Cillian paled. “Oh no,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She would lose it.”
“What if it happened at court? What if she hurt someone?”
The thought of their impeccably perfect sister losing control at a royal event nearly broke her composure, somewhere between amusement and horror.
“We need to get home,” Evelyne muttered.
“Agreed.”
Chapter 51
Evelyne stood close to the fire, the chill of the night air curling around her as she savored a rare moment of solitude. Cillian had long since turned in, tucked away in one of the makeshift tents the packs had assembled, but her thoughts refused to settle. They spun restlessly, too loud for sleep.
Tilting her head back, she gazed at the stars, drawing in a slow, grounding breath, only to freeze.
That scent. Smoky cedar, wild musk.Him.
She turned, already knowing who she’d find.
Kaldrek stood a few feet behind her, his expression shadowed in the firelight. “Evelyne,” he said cautiously. “I need… Can I talk to you?”
She folded her arms across her chest, spine straightening. “Well, that depends, Alpha. Can I trust that you’ll be honest with me?”
He flinched, but did not retreat. “I should have told you. I wanted to. I had chances, and I didn’t take them. That’s on me.”
The anger she had buried roared back to life. “You lied to me,” she said, her voice cracking. “You let me find everything out fromher.”
“I know,” he rasped. “And I would give anything to undo that.”
Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. The betrayal ran deep—but deeper still was the ache in her chest, the invisible pull between them that refused to let go. Part of her wanted to turn away, to strike him and leave him in silence. But her eyes lingered on his face,drawn to the raw pain carved into his features… and the vulnerability he was trying so hard to mask.
“I should have known there was a reason you are so different,” she said quietly. “You sense magic because you have the blood of a witch. But do you feel it? Can you wield it?”
Kaldrek’s throat bobbed, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, as if weighing how much to reveal.
“No,” he said finally. “I don’t feel anything inside. I can only sense dark magic when it’s around. Like a warning before it comes.” He reached for her hand, but dropped his quickly. “And I can sense other magical beings, like… like your wolf lineage, though I questioned its truth for a long time.”
Evelyne studied him, truly studied him, seeing not just the pain he carried, but the quiet strength that had kept him standing through it all. He bore the heavy, lonely weight of a life built on half-truths and stolen history. But she needed to know more, and found herself wondering when he had learned the truth about his parents. Because the thought of him discovering it alone, carrying that burden in silence, made her chest ache.
“When did you find out about your mother?”
Kaldrek cleared his throat. “My father told me, and only me. He told me the truth about who I am right before he died.”
