Dean POV
The air tonight was too quiet. The kind of quiet that hides something ugly underneath — the kind that snaps without warning. I swirled the bourbon in my glass, savoring the burn as it hit my throat. Peace never lasted long in my world.
Especially when I was the one responsible for breaking it.
The doors swung open, and Robben stepped in, stiff as always.
"We have news," he said.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense, Robben." I murmured, not looking up.
"A lot of council members will be at the ceremony tonight. Our beasts are ready."
That made me smile — the kind that shouldn't comfort anyone sane.
"Perfect," I said.
He hesitated, jaw ticking. "I suggest we attack and keep the new warriors hostage."
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Wow. That plan is… terrible. But hey, points for effort. And that, my dear Robben, is why I'm in charge and you're not."
His fists clenched. I could practically feel the rage vibrating off him. Good. Anger made monsters useful.
"Keep that angry bird locked inside," I said, brushing past him and patting his back. "He might finally come in handy tonight."
I took another sip of bourbon, smirking at the taste before setting the glass down. "This is really good, by the way. You should try some, big guy."
His glare followed me as I descended the stairs into the main hall. The place buzzed — demons, witches, shapeshifters — all pretending they belonged. My home looked like the damn underworld's waiting room.
"Dean," a voice purred behind me.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Ashley slinked into the room like sin wrapped in silk, her arms instantly looping around my neck.
"You didn't tell me we were hosting half the underworld tonight," she whispered against my ear. "A girl likes a little warning."
I peeled her off, unimpressed. "Sweetheart, what the hell are they doing here?"
Her lips curved into a smug little smile. "My father thought it would be wise, considering... the arrangements."
My patience thinned. "I made a deal with your father, Ashley. And it did not involve turning my house into a demon daycare."
She waved a delicate hand toward them. "You heard him, boys. Out."
When they finally dispersed, she turned back, all perfume and arrogance. "Better?"
I sighed. "Marginally. Keep this up and you'll be shopping for my engagement ring."
She laughed, throwing herself onto the couch like a spoiled queen. "You wound me. I'm only a hundred years old, Dean — barely out of my teens in witch years."
I gave her a flat look. "And yet, you talk like you've been nagging men for centuries."
Her smirk deepened. "You could do worse." Then, her tone dropped. "Speaking of worse — your brother might show up tonight. What are you going to do about that?"
For a heartbeat, everything in me went still.
Of course she noticed. She always noticed.
"Don't worry about it," I said quietly, brushing past her.
Her nails hooked into my wrist, sharp enough to break skin. "Oh, I do worry," she said sweetly. "Because if you hesitate… if you get sentimental… he'll gut you. And I'd hate to lose you before you make me queen of this little kingdom."
I turned, my voice a low growl. "Since when do you worry about anyone but yourself?"
Her grin didn't falter. "Since I started betting on the winning side. Don't make me regret it."
I stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the chill behind my smile.
"The only person allowed to kill my brother is me," I said. "And I will. Tonight."
---
Night fell faster than expected, painting the sky in bruised blue. The camp buzzed with bloodlust; every creature armed, every weapon gleaming. Not everyone would make it back alive — but that wasn't my problem.
I loaded a bolt into my crossbow. "It's time to attend a ceremony," I said to Robben.
He stopped me, fingers gripping my arm. "What about your brother?"
I gave him a thin smile. "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't. You'll only ruin my fun."
He said nothing, but his silence was heavy. I caught it — that flicker of something in his eyes — before turning away. Maybe I should've paid more attention to it.
Ashley lingered by the gates, smirk sharp as ever. Like she knew something I didn't. She always did.
When we arrived, the council was deep inside their little fortress, clueless of the massacre waiting for them.
A mansion in a forest. Brilliant. Hiding from the world, blind to the monsters breathing the same air.
"Send the beasts in," I ordered.
And then — chaos.
Roars tore through the night. Metal clashed with claws, screams merged with fire. The trees themselves trembled under the weight of death.
Everything unfolded exactly as planned… until I saw him.
Brandon.
My brother, slicing through demons like he still believed he could save the world.
"Run, idiot," I muttered under my breath.
But he didn't. Of course he didn't. The righteous bastard even stopped mid-fight to save someone — a girl with violet hair, throwing spells like firelight.
There was something between them. I could see it in the way his body moved, the way he shielded her. He wasn't saving a stranger. He was protecting something he didn't understand.
She broke through the chaos, sprinting into the woods. Wrong direction. Straight toward me.
I stepped out of the shadows, watching her stumble through the trees, breath ragged, skin glistening with sweat. She finally looked back — bad timing. She tripped, crashing to her knees.
I took a step forward, snapping a twig on purpose. Her head whipped around, eyes searching the dark.
I liked that fear. It made people honest.
When the moonlight caught my face, her pupils widened. "You… you're him. Dean."
I smiled. "Wow, you've heard of me. Fantastic."
The crossbow in my hand hummed with tension. "Don't worry, I won't kill you — yet. I like keeping young witches around for entertainment."
I fired. The arrow never reached her.
It buried itself in flesh — Brandon's palm.
He groaned, breaking it in half like it was nothing. "Dean," he spat.
"Hello, brother."
The recognition in his eyes told me everything. And the way the girl looked at him told me even more.
"Oops," I said lightly. "Seems I've exposed your little secret."
"Leave her out of this," he said. "This is between me and you."
I laughed. "Between us? Please. You're the one obsessed with me, little brother. I didn't know you cared this much."
He pulled a silver dagger, eyes blazing. "This ends tonight."
He lunged. Silver flashed through the air. I sidestepped easily, caught his wrist, twisted hard until the blade hit dirt.
"Too slow, gladiator."
He shoved back, teeth bared.
"Still Father's perfect soldier," I said softly.
"Don't you dare mention him!"
There it was — the crack.
"Tell me," I whispered. "Does it burn that no matter how much you train, you'll never be stronger than me?"
"Shut up."
"But you can fix that. Kill her, and maybe you'll finally catch up."
"No."
I grinned. "We could do it together. Like old times."
He snapped. His eyes went dark — the same shade Father's turned before he lost control.
"That's it," I taunted. "That's the Brandon I—"
He regained himself mid-fight, slamming me into a tree. The dagger found my ribs before I could blink. Silver. I felt the burn before the pain — like acid under my skin.
Blood soaked through my shirt. I looked down and started laughing.
"Cute trick. Silver. You think pain scares me?"
The wound sizzled — then sealed. I grinned, wiping blood from my mouth. "Perks of killing witches while you were off playing knight. How's your wound, by the way?"
His fists tightened. "They'll destroy you when they're done with you."
"I'll take my chances."
I tilted my head. "Your choice."
Before I could move, something blurred out of the dark — claws, teeth, rage.
"Robben!" I snarled.
He didn't even flinch. "Finishing your job," he growled, fangs sinking into Brandon's shoulder.
"No!" I shouted.
Brandon's eyes locked on mine — not hate this time, not rage. Just that damned look of pleading.
I shoved my blade through Robben's back. The bastard froze, eyes wide, before collapsing beside him.
"You son of a bitch," Brandon coughed.
"I told you I'd handle it," I muttered. His blood hit the dirt, steaming in the moonlight.
He struggled to rise, voice breaking. "Go to hell."
"Already booked a room," I said dryly.
Behind us, the girl — Aurora — whimpered. "Please, please don't kill me."
I waved dismissively. "For God's sake, Brandon, just kill the girl."
He staggered. "No."
And then the forest roared.
It wasn't just sound — it was power.
Aurora screamed, and the world bent with her. The air cracked open, a sonic tremor splitting the trees. I dropped to my knees, palms clamped to my ears as blood leaked through my fingers.
The ground itself convulsed. The demons poured from the shadows, howling — only to collapse mid-run, their bodies twisting, eyes bursting into ash. The night burned white-hot, then went silent.
Smoke curled over a circle of shattered earth.
Aurora stood at its center — trembling, terrified, divine.
Brandon stared at her like he'd just seen the face of God.
I wiped the blood from my mouth, forcing myself to stand.
"No witch could ever…" I breathed. "No one should be able to do that."
And then I smiled. Slow. Cold.
Whatever she was — she wasn't just a witch.
She was the key He spoke of.