1. Nik

Flames rise, writhe, and twist, flaring up unpredictably. The oak logs crackle in the massive stone fireplace, radiating warmth against the chill night. I stoke the hearth, sending up a cascade of sparks. Fire has always soothed my restless soul. It has a will of its own, just like me—we refuse to be tamed or controlled.

But even fire cannot warm the cold indifference I’ve known.

When my parents slipped away, so too did my freedom, scattering like ashes on an icy wind. In an instant, I went from cherished son to despised burden. My older brother Bram wasted no time seizing control, casting me aside like a broken toy. I became nothing but an obstacle in his path to power; a nuisance to be swiftly disposed of. First chance he got, Bram rid himself of me, passing me off to fleeting schools and distant guardians. And just like that, I was branded the black sheep of the Draken clan, a title I’ve learned to wear with pride and defiance.

I was a child back then, forced to endure the harsh separation from homeland and family. And now here I am, thirteen years later, sitting at my desk, surrounded by stacks of research notes and scribbled diagrams. My dissertation, a supposed magnum opus on the effects of globalization in business management, feels like utter garbage. Frustration bubbles up inside me, ready to explode into an enraged scream. Why did I even bother with this nonsense?

I rise from the seat, unable to contain my agitation any longer, and begin pacing the dark paneled study.

One glance around my posh flat reminds me of my true heritage—that of a powerful warlock. My eyes linger on the gilded spell books and ornate athames lining the bookshelves, the glass vials of elixirs that glimmer in the firelight. Symbols of the mystical arts I have neglected in favor of more practical pursuits. Pursuits meant to satisfy my brother’s ambitions, not my own. I’ve wasted years steeping myself in business studies at university, learning skills with no real purpose or passion. All to further the family’s enterprises and swell its coffers. But deep down, I know Bram will never allow me to truly take control, to be the one in charge. It’s just another reminder of how little power and agency I have in this world.

A sharp, ragged breath rips from my chest. It all comes down to this: out of the two of us, Bram’s the fucking alpha. He’s made that clear early on. And I hate myself as I grab the phone. Hate myself for even considering dialing his number. But I do, because I hate this place even more, with its suffocating rules and expectations. And so, I force myself to make the dreaded call, hoping against hope that he will let me leave this prison.

The shrill ring pierces through the silence, and I know with a sinking feeling that it will go straight to voicemail. Bram never takes my calls, preferring to let his Enforcer handle the dirty work. But tonight, I’m desperate enough to risk my brother’s rejection once again.

After what seems like an eternity, the bright beep finally sounds.

“Hey... it’s me,” I mutter into the phone, holding it against my cheek with my shoulder. “Bram, I want to come home.” It takes everything in me to address those words, knowing deep down that Bram will never listen. He will continue to ignore me, crushing me under his heel as he always does.

My patience is wearing thin. I rub my temple, feeling the onset of another headache. The now familiar throbbing begins behind my eyes, promising yet another sleepless night ahead. These constant migraines and blurred vision are driving me insane, symptoms with no cause the doctors can find. Just one more mystery plaguing me…

Gods, I may be turning twenty-one soon, but that won’t free me from my brother’s overbearing grasp. Damn it all! I’ll do as I please, even if it ruffles his feathers.

With a frustrated grunt, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my tight jeans and rake a hand through my hair. A primal growl vibrates in my chest. I release a sharp breath and pace angrily around the room before coming to a halt at the window overlooking the street. Rain has been pouring steadily all day, matching my stormy emotions to perfection.

Heaving a sigh, I softly press my brow against the cool pane of glass. My body aches for the familiarity of Paris and the comfort of Draken Manor. Yet here I am, stuck in this desolate place.

A soft voice drifts into the hallway and startles me out of my brooding thoughts.

“Nik, are you up?” she asks, her tone gentle and full of concern.

I wince and curse inwardly. How could I forget about the girl lying in my bed? I make my way to the bedroom, stopping at the doorway. “Yeah,” I reply nonchalantly, leaning against the doorframe. Gods, I can’t even remember her name. “I had a good time,” I continue, feeling awkward as hell.

She groans and hides under the covers, flipping me off with her delicate hand. I purse my lips and give a sharp nod, knowing full well that I deserve it.

“Listen, uh... I’m going to go to the kitchen,” I say quickly, stepping back into the hallway. “Take your time.” Guilt gnaws at me, but we both knew this was just a one-night stand. No promises were made except for that momentary pleasure. And right now, the last thing I want is a relationship. I’m perfectly miserable on my own, don’t need to add a girlfriend into the mix.

I saunter up to the counter, snatching a bottle of water with ease. Life is simple for me—school, pumping iron, and some occasional fun. Dating? Not in my vocabulary.

Commitment has always terrified me, whether romantic or otherwise. After being abandoned so young by my family, it’s safer to remain detached and distant. I don’t need anyone tying me down with promises they’ll inevitably break. Maybe it’s Bram’s fault for pushing me away, or perhaps it’s my parents’ for dying too soon. The truth is, I’ve always been a loner, and I intend to keep it that way.

I take another gulp from the bottle, admiring its clear purity. Unlike most guys my age, I don’t drink or smoke. My sole addiction is the gym—my sanctuary, where I can silence all my worries... and gods, I have so many.

The silence in my house is suffocating, amplifying the tension of this bleak Friday evening. I have no plans, and it seems even the universe is against me as the woman I wronged storms past without a single glance in my direction. She has every right to be furious, but we both played a part in this mess.

I lean back in my chair, surveying the entrance for any sign of her departure. Has she truly left? My heart thrums with trepidation at the thought of her smoldering fury, and I hastily check the locks on the door. There’s nothing as dangerous as a woman scorned—a lesson I’ve learned all too well.

Somehow, I can’t shake off the uneasy feeling that she may still be here. I cautiously move through the kitchen and check the hallway, finding nothing. As I peer out the window, I see her crossing the street. A wave of relief rolls over me, only to be quickly shattered by the incessant buzzing of my phone and blaring Zoom alert on my laptop. My heart races as I see notifications flooding in from every messaging app imaginable, each one more urgent than the last.

Utterly baffled, my brow knits together in confusion and I mutter a curse under my breath. “What in the nine hells is happening?” But before I can even attempt to unravel the chaos surrounding me, my phone rings. And when the name on the screen flashes into view, my eyes widen in sheer shock and disbelief.

Bram

My stomach churns and my veins run cold. I’m fixated on the electronic display, as if Death himself is mocking me. The flood of incessant ringing and flashing alerts feel like a dire omen.

“What the f...?” I swipe at the screen, my heart pounding with every second that passes. Reluctantly, I lift the phone to my ear and answer the call with shaky hands.

“H-hello?”