Kael's POV
My chest still burned where the rogues had clawed me, but none of that pain compared to the weight of his words. Nephew. Uncle. Mother. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, as if he, too, tried to claw meaning out of the madness.
"How?" The word left me sharp, rough, half-snarl. My voice cracked against the silence, but I didn't care. "How are you my uncle? What do you mean?"
The middle-aged man didn't flinch. His presence remained steady, unshaken by my defiance. He only tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes now calmer, no longer burning but still carrying the authority of a predator who never lost a fight.
"Not here," he said evenly, his voice low and certain. "Follow me and I'll explain at my house."
I looked around me—at the ring of scarred men who stood like statues in the night, their silence heavier than steel, their eyes never leaving me. The weight of them pressed against me like chains, and my wolf shifted uneasily, unsettled in their presence. Every instinct told me I didn't belong in their circle.
Lucas seemed to sense it. His gaze swept over his warriors, and with a small gesture, they peeled back into the shadows, leaving the space open again. Not all of them disappeared, though. Two remained close behind him—guards, I realized—silent, broad-shouldered, their eyes sharp as if carved from stone.
"Now," Lucas said, his voice quieter, almost courteous. "Shall we?"
I hesitated. Every instinct screamed at me not to trust him. He had claimed ties to my bloodline, and that was a dangerous claim to make. But the way the rogues had cowered before him, the certainty in his tone—it pulled at me in ways I couldn't ignore.
I let out a slow breath and drew my claws back, letting my fangs recede. But I didn't relax. My guard stayed up, every sense sharpened, every nerve ready to snap if I had to.
We walked. Out of the park, away from the suffocating shadows, into the calm stretch of street where the city hummed softly in the distance. The air smelled different here—cleaner, lighter, though I didn't let it trick me into lowering my guard. My steps echoed against the pavement, every sense sharpened on him.
Then I saw it.
A sleek black Rolls Royce Cullinan waited at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the thin wash of moonlight. My body stiffened instantly. Recognition struck like lightning.
My jaw tightened. "That was you," I said, low and accusing. "The car. The same one trailing me since yesterday."
Lucas didn't deny it. His crimson eyes glinted as he looked back at me.
"Yes," he said simply. "That was me. But I never meant you harm." His voice held no rush, no excuse, just certainty. "I was only keeping an eye on my nephew."
Nephew. The word gnawed at me again, digging into the walls I'd built against my past. I shook my head, still unwilling to let him have that power over me.
"Watching me," I muttered bitterly, my gold eyes flashing. "That's what stalkers say before they strike."
"If I wanted to strike," Lucas replied calmly, "you'd already be dead."
The bluntness of it made my wolf still. His tone wasn't arrogant, wasn't mocking. It was just fact. Cold and simple.
I hated that part of me believed him.
My gut twisted, but I didn't back down. Not completely. With one last wary glance at him, I pulled the door open and slid into the backseat of the Cullinan. The leather smelled rich, new, like money and power.
Lucas followed smoothly, his movements deliberate, unhurried. He took the seat beside me, not across from me, as though he wanted to make a point.
The driver glanced at us in the mirror, received a subtle nod from Lucas, and the engine purred to life.
The car rolled forward, leaving the park—and the blood, the rogues, the unanswered questions—behind.
But I couldn't shake the truth clawing at my chest.
If this man truly was who he claimed he is, then certainly he knew about my mother… and might help me find her.
The ride was silent. Tension clung to the air between us, thick and heavy. I didn't ask more questions. Not yet. My eyes stayed fixed on the dark streets blurring past, watching the town thin until the buildings gave way to open space.
Finally, the car slowed.
Ahead of us, massive wrought-iron gates stood at the edge of the outskirts, stretching wide enough to guard an entire kingdom. As the Rolls approached, the gates stirred—no guards, no words, just a silent command—and swung open on their own.
The Cullinan glided inside.
Even in the dark, the beauty of the place radiated under moonlight and the warm glow of lights scattered across the compound. The road curved past trimmed lawns and towering trees until it opened onto a courtyard dominated by a glittering fountain. Water cascaded under the light, spraying diamonds into the night air.
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the mansion. Mansion wasn't even the right word—it was more like a fortress carved in glass and stone, every line screaming wealth and power. Its windows glowed softly, balconies sprawled wide, and polished stone steps led to towering doors that could have belonged to a palace.
When I stepped out, my eyes caught on the line of vehicles parked neatly along the sides. Fleets of them. All gleaming under the light. Sports cars, luxury sedans, SUVs—machines worth more than most houses back in town. The sheer display of wealth was almost suffocating.
Lucas didn't pause to admire it. He walked forward, confident, his guards flanking him. I followed, wary, every instinct alert.
Servants moved through the compound, and as we passed them, each one bowed low to Lucas, eyes down, their respect automatic. My chest tightened. I didn't need anyone to tell me who he was. The title clung to him like a crown.
Alpha.
We entered through the massive doors into a grand living room, the kind of place that belonged in magazines—high ceilings, chandeliers dripping light, furniture that looked more like art than anything you'd sit on.
And waiting there, at the center, was a woman.
She was beautiful, poised, with dark hair flowing over her shoulders and a presence that filled the space without needing words. She crossed the room with a soft smile, her eyes going straight to Lucas.
"Welcome back," she said warmly before leaning up to kiss him.
Her gaze slid to me next, curious but not unkind. "And this must be Kael?"
Lucas's expression softened in a way I hadn't seen before. "Yes," he said. "Kael, this is Miriam. My Luna."
Miriam's smile widened as she studied me. "I've heard so much about you," she said gently.
Something in her tone was kind, but it didn't ease the knot in my chest. My wolf shifted uneasily. I didn't like being studied, weighed.
"I'm not here for smiles and welcomes," I said sharply. "I need answers."
Lucas raised a hand, calm as ever. "And you'll have them. But first—let's see to your wounds, and you should take something to eat. Then we talk. There's much you don't know."
I didn't move. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Like where my mother, Remi, is?"
The words tore out of me before I could stop them.
The room stilled.
Every servant froze in place. Miriam's soft expression faltered, surprise flashing across her face. Even Lucas's calm cracked for the first time—just slightly—as his crimson eyes sharpened, unreadable.
The silence pressed down on me, heavy, suffocating.
I didn't understand why.
But one thing was clear.
The name of my mother was the one truth that rattled even them.