CHAPTER 196: _ INES

Halric leans back after Darien’s question. "Nothing yet. The Council wants confirmation before they decide whether to crown her or kill her."

Darien’s mouth goes dry. "Those are the options?"

The man nods. "Traditionally, there’s a third option—containment. But containment rarely lasts."

Darien stares at him, the world tilting slightly. Kairos snarls deep in his mind, pacing, restless. "Our number one goal right now should be protecting our mate, Darien."

Hell yeah.

Darien rubs his temple, feeling the headache kicking in. "When the Council makes a decision, I want to be informed."

Halric gives a tight, patronizing smile. "You want me to report to you?"

"Yes."

"I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for your lackey," the man says lightly, standing. "I am your headmaster, Lord Bellamy. You’re on my grounds."

Darien’s lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. "Then maybe you should remember whose family funds half your budget."

Halric stiffens just slightly. "Is that a threat?"

Darien steps closer. He takes one step, then another, until the air between them feels pressurized. His wolf aura seeps into the room, making the bulb flicker.

He replies quietly. "It’s advice. Don’t get on my bad side, Headmaster. You won’t like what happens there."

The silence that follows is taut as wire.

Halric tries to hold his ground, but his throat betrays him as he gives a visible swallow, quick and dry. "Duly noted," he sighs finally even though the glare in his eyes could strike down a mountain.

"Good. I’m glad we are on the same page." Replies, Darien:

With that, he turns, heading for the door. His boots echo on the marble like a slow countdown. His hand hesitates on the handle for just a breath—enough for him to catch his reflection again in the dark glass. The boy he sees there doesn’t look calm or noble. He looks haunted.

He opens the door and steps into the corridor.

The rain outside has thickened into a downpour. Through the tall windows lining the hall, the city beyond the academy is a blur of lights and silver streaks. Somewhere far below, a car horn bleats, lonely and impatient.

Darien exhales through his nose. The scent of rain, ozone, and his own simmering anger fills his lungs. He can’t shake the words from his mind; the little Moon Blessed you’re so concerned about might just be the end of your kind.

Ridiculous. Insane. But beneath the denial, a thread of fear winds tighter and tighter, because what if it’s true?

He strides down the hall, ignoring the students scurrying out of his way. His wolf aura still crackles around him, faint and electric, like static on a radio. He can hear Kairos muttering in his head.

"She’s stronger than we thought."

"I know."

"They’ll come for her."

"I know."

"Then what are we going to do?"

Darien’s jaw clenches. "Protect her."

A faint, humorless laugh echoes from Kairos. "Even if it means betraying the pack? Your mother and your

Darien doesn’t answer.

By the time he reaches the main doors, thunder cracks open the sky. He steps out into it, rain hammering his shoulders, soaking through his jacket in seconds. The air smells like wet asphalt and trouble.

******

Present Day (A Night Later)

Darien pulls his keys from his pocket, glancing once over his shoulder toward the looming academy building. The windows glow like a hundred eyes watching him. Inside one of them, he’s sure, Halric is still smiling.

He mutters something low under his breath after watching Amias and the twins speed away and heads for his car. He doesn’t know yet that this storm won’t end when he drives away. It’s only just begun.

The road hums beneath the tires like a long dark ribbon stretched through the outskirts of the pack, the kind of still night that makes sound travel farther than it should. Bumps vibrate through the steering wheel, and Kairos shifts restlessly, impatient for movement that isn’t confined to human machinery.

"Easy," Darien mutters, one hand braced against the wheel, the other raking through his hair.

His voice is rough and sounds like it’s been used too much to shout at people and not enough to talk to them. The engine purrs, headlights slicing through the fields that roll out on either side. Beyond them, the Alpha’s estate rises out of the land like a fortress. It’s the kind of home that doesn’t let you forget where you came from. Or what’s expected of you.

By the time the gates come into view, Darien’s stomach knots. They swing open automatically when the guards catch sight of his car. Even now, the sight of that polished emblem — the wolf’s head encircled in silver laurels, makes something tight coil in his chest.

The drive up the gravel path is silent except for the crunch of the tires. His mother’s scent rides the breeze from the veranda before he even sees her.

She’s waiting outside.

He slows the car, blinking twice. That... is new. Ines Bellamy doesn’t wait outside for anyone. Not even for her husband, the Alpha.

This must mean there’s an important reason behind her usual behavior. As much as Darien loves his mother, the fear of not meeting up to her expectations outshines that love. To the mother who has sacrificed a lot to give him and his sisters the best, he wants to give the world.

When he steps out of the car, the night folds around him, the air tasting faintly of rain from the day before. His shoes hit the gravel with a satisfying crunch, and the automatic headlights sweep across the front garden, catching the polished marble of the steps where she stands.

Ines looks as though the moon itself decided to play dress-up as a queen. Her posture is perfect — spine like a blade, arms loosely crossed, her hair a cascade of black that’s silvered just enough to look intentional. She’s dressed in a robe the color of deep wine, cinched at the waist, elegant and imperious.

Darien’s chest softens despite himself. He’s twenty-three, a trained fighter, a Bellamy heir with a sharp temper... and yet, under her gaze, he feels ten years old again.

"My Ines," he smiles quietly, though his voice catches on the edge of surprise.

"Darien."

She descends the steps, her expression easing just a little under her rock-hard expression. Then, to his utter shock, she cups his face with both hands and kisses his cheek. Her palms are cool, smooth, and scented faintly of jasmine.

"You’ve been gone too long," she murmurs. "I’ve missed you."

For a second, he forgets to breathe. It’s not that she’s ever been unkind — Ines just has her own language for affection. A raised eyebrow instead of a hug. A critique instead of comfort. But tonight, she’s all warmth and soft words.

It makes the hair at the back of his neck stand on end at the wonder of why.