Page 24

"My great-great-uncle. He died in a magical accident when he was twelve." Using one finger, I trace the careful script. "Except now I'm wondering if it was really an accident."

The implications rupture the silence, dropping an undeniable weight over the room. I close the journal and stare at the motel room's water-stained ceiling.

"I think my family's been keeping secrets or withholding important family history from me my entire life."

"Families do that." Darius's voice harbors bitter experience. "Usually they think they're protecting you."

"Were yours liars too?"

He drifts away into his own thoughts, his expression growing distant. "My pack believed in brutal honesty. Every flaw and weakness was laid bare so we could fix it or die trying."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It was." As his mouth curves in a humorless smile, a haunting weariness makes him look older than his years. "My father used to say secrets were poison in a pack bond. He used to tell stories about ancient wolves who could bond their spirits to their mates, sharing their very souls to protect each other from any darkness. I always thought it was just myth. I've certainly never seen it in my lifetime. It's ironic, considering what actually happened."

I shift to face him properly. "The alliance that went wrong?"

"A witch coven approached us about territorial disputes. Promised mutual protection and shared resources." A rigid stiffness grips his shoulders. "My father saw an opportunity to strengthen our position. I saw a chance to prove I could lead diplomatic negotiations."

"What went wrong?"

"Everything. The coven claimed a rogue pack was moving along our northern border, threatening the summit. My father sent me to secure the perimeter—an honor, he called it. A test of my leadership to ensure the meeting went smoothly."

Darius looks down, his chest rising and falling in a shallow breath. For a split second, his stoic facade crumbles. For the first time, I recognize his fierce need for safety as a shield for something far more wounded; beneath his rigid posture of leadership lies the vast, echoing void of a survivor’s grief.

"It was a diversion," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly before he forces it steady. "They wanted me out of the way. They came with spells and fire instead of contracts. Slaughtered nearly my entire pack while I was chasing ghosts in the woods."

Something sharp lodges behind my ribs. "Darius⁠—"

"Twenty-three wolves died because I trusted the wrong people. Kellan only survived because he'd broken his leg the week before and couldn't travel to the summit." He meets my eyes, amber depths flickering with old pain. "So yes, I understand family secrets. Sometimes the truth really would destroy everything."

"But at least you'd have a choice about it."

"Would you? If Estella had told you everything she knows about what this coven is after, would you have stayed away from the city? Lived quietly in the suburbs, never using your magic?"

The question hits its target perfectly. I know exactly what I would have done—charged straight toward the danger to investigate.

"Point taken." I lean back against the headboard. "Still doesn't make the withholding right."

"No, but it makes it understandable."

Time drifts, the world outside the motel room shrinking until only the quiet drone of conversation fills the space. The late afternoon light thins and gutters out, and we continue to talk about secrets and families and the choices we've made, however right or wrong.

"...And you'd think after that, I'd have learned something about self-preservation," I say, smiling faintly at the ceiling.

"Yet here you are, fighting a cult and delving into forbidden magic." Darius leans back against the wall, his gaze lost in the slow revolutions of the ceiling fan. "Some habits die hard."

"You don't exactly practice caution yourself."

His soft, almost imperceptible laugh whispers through the room. “Reckless comes with the territory.”

I turn my head to study his profile, the hard lines softened by gentle shadows. "Do you regret anything?"

"Every damn day."

I wait, a heartbeat prolonging into eternity, and wonder if he'll say more. When silence is my only answer, I nod slowly.

"I regret, too," I admit. "The choice to push into dangerous territories and the consequences brought upon those lives."