CHAPTER 367: NICK’S PLAN

Nicholas~

The clatter of silverware faded as the servants whisked away the last of the breakfast plates, their movements brisk, efficient, almost too loud in the sudden quiet that followed. The grand hall seemed to exhale, but the air didn’t lighten—it grew heavier, saturated with the ghosts of our earlier chatter. Sunlight spilled through the high windows, no longer the soft gold of dawn but sharp, deliberate beams that carved long shadows across the polished stone floor. Even the gleam of the marble felt restless, like it too was waiting for something to break.

The smell of coffee still lingered, rich and bitter, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth no one wanted to touch. I leaned back in my chair, forcing my body into a posture of ease I didn’t feel, one elbow draped carelessly on the armrest, a faint smirk tugging at my mouth. But beneath the mask, my chest was tight, every heartbeat a strike against the ribs. Dad’s voice—his warning, his insistence—still rattled around in my skull like a blade I couldn’t sheath.

Winter. Vincent. The names sparked against each other, dangerous, volatile. I could feel it—like dry kindling stacked too close to the fire, waiting for the smallest spark to set the whole damn house alight. I couldn’t let it get that far.

The table chatter had quieted, the others too lost in their own thoughts, but I couldn’t sit there, pretending. Doubt was poison, and it was already seeping into my veins. I needed answers, not in the open where eyes and ears lingered, but behind closed doors. Private. Controlled. If I didn’t act now, the truth would come crashing down on its own, and when it did, no one would be ready.

So I smiled, casual, easy—like nothing was wrong at all—while inside I was already planning my next move.

"Hey, everyone," I said, breaking the lull as the group started to rise from the table. My voice came out smoother than I felt, that cocky edge I relied on to mask the storm inside. I glanced around at Katrina, Winter, and Vincent, who were all lingering near their seats. Katrina’s reddish-blonde hair caught the light like a halo, her blue eyes bright with that impulsive energy she always carried. Vincent stood tall beside her, his calculating gaze sweeping the room like he was assessing threats, while Winter hovered close to me, her enigmatic presence a cool shadow that both soothed and unsettled me. "Breakfast was great and all, but we’ve got the whole day ahead. What do you say we split up? Give each couple some alone time to... you know, bond properly. Katrina, you and Vincent could explore the gardens or whatever romantic crap you fancy. Winter and I could do the same. No chaperones, no interruptions—just us getting to know our mates."

Katrina’s face lit up instantly, her fork clinking against her empty plate as she set it down with enthusiasm. She turned to Vincent, grabbing his arm lightly, her loyalty and fierceness shining through in that wide grin. "Oh, yes! That sounds perfect, Nicky. I’ve been dying to steal Vincent away for a bit. We could walk by the lake, talk about... everything. Come on, Vincent, what do you think? It’ll be fun!"

Vincent’s charming smile faltered, his dark eyes narrowing as he glanced between me and Winter. He straightened up, that dangerous ambition flickering in his posture like a predator sizing up a rival. "I appreciate the suggestion, Nicholas," he said, his voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of steel. "But no. I don’t think that’s wise. Winter and I... we’ve never been separated before. Not truly. We’re all we have left in this world. I won’t leave her alone with someone she barely knows."

I felt a spark of irritation ignite in my gut, but I kept my brooding mask in place, leaning forward with a magnetic grin that usually disarmed even the toughest crowds. Inside, though, my mind was whirling—partly because I genuinely craved that alone time with Winter, to lose myself in her dark eyes and feel her vulnerability melt against me, but mostly because of Dad’s words echoing like a death knell. They’re not who they claim to be. I needed to probe, to ask the questions Vincent might deflect if he were around. About their family, their past, the shadows that clung to them like secrets. I wasn’t a fool; Dad’s instincts were legendary, and I’d grown up on stories of how Mom—Cassandra, the fierce werewolf warrior and former vampire slayer—had once tried to drive a stake through his heart at the start of their bond. Mates weren’t always fairy tales from day one. Some started in blood and betrayal, but if the pull was real, love clawed its way through. I had to know if Winter’s was the kind that would endure... or destroy.

"Vincent, man," I replied, my tone steady but insistent, locking eyes with him to show I wasn’t backing down. "I get it. You’re protective—that’s admirable. But Winter’s my mate now. The bond hit us like a freight train last night, and I need time with her. Alone. To understand her, to show her I’m not some threat. I promise you, on my hybrid blood, I won’t hurt her. She’s my other half, the piece I didn’t even know was missing. And hey, I’m sure you’d never lay a finger on Katrina in a bad way. Right? She’s tough, but she’s family to me. We all deserve this chance."

Vincent crossed his arms, his enhanced senses probably picking up the subtle shift in my heartbeat—the mix of genuine affection and calculated curiosity. He let out a low, calculating sigh, his charming facade cracking just a fraction. "It’s not about trust, Nicholas. Not entirely. Winter and I have been through hell together. Separation... it feels like tempting fate. What if something happens? What if—"

"Vincent," Winter interjected softly, her voice like a whisper of night wind cutting through the tension. She stepped closer to me, her hand brushing mine again, that cool touch sending a thrill up my arm. Her cold, vengeful exterior softened in my presence, revealing the vulnerability she guarded so fiercely—eyes wide with a mix of fear and longing, her dark hair framing a face that could weave nightmares or dreams. But right now, it was all for me, that secret side she only showed when we were close. "Calm down, brother. Nicholas is right. We need this. Alone time with our mates—it’s what the bond demands. Go with Katrina. Spend the day understanding her, letting her in. Just like I’ll try with Nicholas. We’ve clung to each other long enough; maybe it’s time to see if we can stand on our own... with someone new by our side."

Vincent’s gaze flicked to her, a storm of emotions brewing in those calculating depths—ambition warring with protectiveness, revenge perhaps flickering like an old flame. He opened his mouth to protest again, his voice rising slightly. "Winter, you know why I hesitate. After everything—our parents, the isolation—"

"I know," she cut in, her tone enigmatic but firm, laced with that hidden plea for peace she buried deep. "But trust me, just this once. Let go. For us. For what could be."

The room fell into a charged silence, the weight of unspoken histories hanging heavy. Katrina shifted impatiently, her independent spirit itching to break free, while I held my breath, my cocky exterior hiding the whirlwind of doubt. Vincent’s jaw tightened, his demonic strength evident in the subtle flex of his muscles, but after a few weak protests—"Fine, but if anything feels off..." and "Promise you’ll call if you need me"—he finally relented with a sharp nod.

"Alright," he said at last, his voice grudging but resigned. "But only for a few hours. And Winter—if he so much as makes you uncomfortable..."

"He won’t," she assured him, a small, secretive smile tugging at her lips as she glanced at me, her dream-walking eyes pulling me in like a vortex.

Katrina whooped triumphantly, looping her arm through Vincent’s. "Yes! Come on, let’s go before he changes his mind. See you later, Nicky! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do." She winked at me, her loyalty to our friendship shining through, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

As they headed out, Vincent casting one last lingering look over his shoulder, I turned to Winter, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and ulterior intent. The grand hall felt emptier now, just the two of us amid the echoing arches and fading sunlight. I wanted this—God, did I want it. To run with her, to feel the bond deepen in the wild freedom of the woods. But more than that, I needed answers. To peel back her layers without Vincent’s shadow looming, to ask about her heritage, her powers, the enigmas she wove like nightmares. Dad’s grave warning pulsed in my veins: Reject the bond. Before it’s too late. I wasn’t ready to reject anything yet, but I had to test the waters, to see if her truth aligned with the fast, beautiful love that had crashed into me.

"Winter," I said, my voice dropping to that magnetic timbre that usually drew people in, hiding the brooding turmoil. I took her hand, feeling the spark of our connection ignite like fire on ice. "How about we make the most of this? A run in the woods—in wolf form. Feel the wind, chase the shadows. It’ll be thrilling, just you and me. What do you say?"

She hesitated, her enigmatic gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something deeper—vulnerability, perhaps fear, woven with the cold vengeance she carried like armor. Her hand tightened in mine, cool and steady, but her voice, when it came, carried a weight that stopped my heart cold.

"No, Nicholas," she replied softly, her tone dramatic and laced with unspoken storms, pulling me closer as if the confession might shatter us both. "I... I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I need to tell you first."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, thrilling and terrifying, my hybrid senses sharpening as the Chapter of our bond teetered on the edge of revelation—or ruin.