CHAPTER 373: WHAT MUST BE DONE

Vincent/Vaelthor~

That night, after our first date, I lay in the massive four-poster bed in Katrina’s chambers, the silk sheets tangled around us like a web I couldn’t escape. The room was a cavernous space truly fit for royalty—high vaulted ceilings painted with celestial murals that glowed faintly under the moonlight filtering through the arched windows. Ornate tapestries depicting ancient battles hung on the walls, and the air carried the faint scent of lavender from the gardens below. Katrina was tucked against my chest, her reddish-blonde hair spilling across my arm like threads of sunset, her breathing soft and steady in sleep. Her blue eyes were closed now, but I could still picture the way they’d sparkled earlier, full of that fierce independence that drew me in despite everything.

On the other side of the room, separated by a carved wooden screen and a expanse of plush rugs that could swallow footsteps whole, Winter slept soundly in Nicholas’s arms. They’d returned from wherever their own escapade had taken them—safe, sound, and radiating a happiness that twisted something deep in my gut. Nicholas, with his black hair tousled and dark eyes half-lidded even in repose, held her close, his vampire-werewolf hybrid strength evident in the protective curl of his body around hers. Winter’s face, usually guarded and shadowed by our shared past, was relaxed, a small smile lingering on her lips as if she’d carried a dream into reality.

I couldn’t sleep. How could I? The day’s events replayed in my mind like a tormenting illusion I might have conjured myself. Katrina’s laughter echoing across the fields, her hand in mine, the way she’d confessed her insecurities about living in her brother Alexander’s shadow. And Winter... gods, Winter. In the short time since we’d infiltrated this world, posing as mere mortals with fabricated backstories, she’d transformed. Earlier that evening, as we all gathered in the palace’s grand hall for a late supper, I’d watched her from across the table.

"Nick, stop it," Winter had giggled, her voice light and unburdened, as he leaned in close, whispering something absurd in her ear. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she swatted at his arm playfully, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

He grinned, that cocky, magnetic smirk of his flashing white teeth. "What? I’m just saying, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to drag you off to the gardens again. Remember that fountain? The one with the glowing fish?"

Winter bit her lip, trying to suppress another laugh, but it bubbled out anyway—loud, free, echoing off the stone walls. "You’re ridiculous. And yes, I remember. But if you keep talking like that, Vincent’s going to think you’re corrupting me."

I forced a chuckle from my seat beside Katrina, masking the storm brewing inside me. "Corrupting? Nick, if that’s your goal, you’re doing a fine job. Winter’s smiling more in one day than she has in years."

Katrina squeezed my hand under the table, her touch sending that electric thrum through me—the mate bond, insistent and undeniable. "See? Even Vincent approves. You two are adorable. It’s like... I don’t know, fate or something."

Nicholas raised his goblet in a mock toast, his brooding facade cracking into something warmer. "To fate, then. And to sisters who finally let loose." He winked at Winter, who blushed even deeper, her hand finding his knee under the table.

I watched it all, my calculating mind dissecting every glance, every touch. Winter had always been quiet, on guard, her powers of darkness manipulation and nightmare weaving kept tightly leashed in our shadowed existence. But here, with Nicholas, she was blooming. That permanent small smile on her face—it was a dagger to my heart. I was happy for her, truly. Our life had been miserable, orphaned by the slaying of our mother Kalmia at the hands of Zane and Natalie, our father Shadow imprisoned in eternal darkness. We’d scraped by in the shadows, plotting revenge. Seeing Winter laugh like that... it was a glimpse of what could have been, if not for the blood on their families’ hands.

But it was all built on lies. We were here in the mortal world— or what they called the mortal realm, intertwined with their supernatural courts—to exact that revenge. Through Katrina and Nicholas, we’d infiltrate, manipulate, destroy. Yet, if we continued like this, entwined in these mate bonds, we’d forget. The ambition that fueled me, the charm I wielded like a weapon, would dull. Winter would forget too, lost in Nicholas’s arms—the son of the very vampire lord and werewolf warrior who’d destroyed our mother.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake Katrina, but my mind raced. This happiness was fragile, a illusion more potent than any fear I could conjure with my powers. It was up to me to shatter it before it shattered us. I knew Winter might hate me for it—her love for Nicholas burned as fiercely as her love for me, her brother. But I had to protect her. If the truth came out—our demonic heritage, our shadowed powers—Katrina and Nicholas wouldn’t just reject us. They’d despise us, fear us, hunt us down like the monsters they believed our parents to be. I couldn’t lose Winter. She was all I had left. The thought of her broken, lifeless because I failed... it clawed at my insides, a demonic strength turned inward.

I needed a plan. A way out of this tangled mess of mate bonds that bound us tighter than chains. That’s when the idea struck—Nancy, the witch. I didn’t trust her; she’d been a sketchy ally, her spells getting us this far with glamours and false identities. But she’d know. How to break the bond. How to sever this love that I convinced myself was artificial, a product of fate’s cruel joke. I loved Katrina—gods, did I—but it had to be the bond. Break it, and the feelings would vanish like shadows at dawn. Then we could finish the mission: revenge on Zane, Natalie, Sebastian, Cassandra. Plunge their world into darkness, free our father if possible, honor our mother’s memory.

The resolve hardened in me like obsidian. I had to act. Now.

Gently, I extricated myself from Katrina’s embrace, her arm sliding off my chest with a soft murmur from her lips. She stirred but didn’t wake, her face peaceful in the dim light of the moonstone lamps. I padded across the room on silent feet, my enhanced senses picking up the steady breaths of Winter and Nicholas behind the screen. The floor was cool under my bare feet, the rugs muffling my steps. The bathroom adjoined the chamber, a luxurious space with marble floors, a claw-foot tub, and those peculiar mortal contraptions they’d insisted on teaching me about.

I slipped inside, my hand lingering on the door. In my haste, my mind elsewhere, I pushed it closed behind me. The latch clicked softly, sealing me in.

I froze, eyes squeezing shut, bracing for the pain. The mate bond was merciless—even a closed door had triggered it before. I remembered last night vividly, the memory flooding back like a nightmare I’d woven myself.

It had been late, after another evening of pretense. I’d excused myself to use the bathroom, still unfamiliar with these human necessities. As I closed the door, a searing agony ripped through my chest, like thorns twisting in my heart. My vision blurred, breaths coming in gasps.

"Vincent?" Katrina’s voice had called from the bed, sharp with concern. "Open the door."

I could hear the pain in her tone, mirroring mine. The bond punished separation, even this brief one. Gritting my teeth, I’d flung the door open, stumbling back into the room. The relief was immediate, the pain ebbing like a receding tide.

Katrina sat up, her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, eyes wide. "The bond... it hurts when we’re apart. Even a door."

Nicholas, lounging on a chaise with Winter curled against him, smirked despite the situation. "Rookie mistake, mate. Happens to the best of us. Just leave it open next time."

Winter stifled a laugh, her hand over her mouth. "Nick, be nice. Vincent’s not used to... all this."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks—humiliation, a not so foreign emotion for someone like me who had gone through worse than this; but still, it hurt. "Fine," I’d growled, turning back to the bathroom with the door ajar. But as I fumbled with the toilet— this strange porcelain throne—I realized I had no idea how to proceed.

"Uh... Katrina?" I’d called, my voice strained.

She appeared in the doorway moments later, suppressing a grin. "Need help?"

I glared, but the bond’s pull made resistance futile. "How does this... make the waste go away?"

She stepped in, demonstrating with patient gestures. "See? Just press here. And the shower—turn this knob for hot water. Use the soap for your body, shampoo for hair. Conditioner after, if you want it soft."

Nicholas’s laughter boomed from the room. "Oh, this is gold. Winter, you hearing this? Our broody no nonsense brother needs a tutorial on bubbles."

"Shut up, Nick," Winter shot back, but there was amusement in her voice. "Don’t tease him. Vincent, ignore him. We’re all learning."

Katrina had lingered, her presence soothing the bond, but the embarrassment burned. I’d never felt so exposed, so mortal. Leaning over the sink later, staring at my reflection—pale skin, sharp features I probably inherited from my father but also covered in human disguise—I’d vowed to master these trivialities quickly.

Back in the present, I stood in the bathroom, door closed, heart pounding in anticipation. But... nothing. No pain. No thorns in my chest, no echo of Katrina’s distress from the other room. Silence reigned, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl outside.

I opened my eyes, staring at the door in disbelief. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, but I didn’t open it. I was fine. And from the lack of screams or frantic calls, Katrina was too. The bond... had it worn off? Faded like a spell undone?

The implications crashed over me like a wave—freedom, perhaps, or a new trap. But for now, in the quiet of that marble sanctuary, I allowed myself a moment of thrilling uncertainty. What if this was the sign I needed? The way forward to break free, to reclaim our purpose?

I didn’t know. But as I stood there, the shadows in the room seeming to pulse with my own power, I felt a spark of hope mingled with dread. The game had changed.