11. Nik

My brother’s temper shows no signs of cooling even after we arrive home. He dismisses his guards abruptly and drags me into his private study, fury simmering off him in waves.

The cloying scent of whiskey follows Bram as he paces before the massive oak desk. I bite my tongue, holding back a reprimand. I realize the stress he’s undergoing at the moment, taking on the role of head of our family. Booze, however, seems to be the wrong way to deal with our clan’s issues. But now is not the time to criticize his drinking, no matter how it clouds his judgment. Out of respect, I remain silent.

I take a seat in one of the leather chairs, but Bram continues prowling like a caged lion. “That beast had the gall to take the head chair from me at the Deveraux’s table. Can you believe it?” he suddenly bursts out.

I exhale slowly. “Yes, I heard about the... incident.” Though privately, I’m more concerned by Bram’s rash reaction than this power move by Gavriil. Does our clan’s reputation mean so little to him that he’d risk our safety on a whim?

“As if he were the rightful leader of all covens!” Bram continues ranting, oblivious to me.

I rub my temple wearily. “I understand your frustration, brother. But we cannot challenge the Ursa so brazenly again. It invites only disaster.”

At that, Bram whirls on me, eyes blazing. “Do not dare question my decisions,” he seethes. “You are in no position to lecture your betters, brother.” He spits out the word as if it pains him.

I stiffen, hands clenching on my knees. “That was not my intent,” I reply tightly. One wrong move could see me banished again. I must step carefully here.

But Bram carries on. “I tolerated your brazen behavior at the bear’s den only because you’ve been away for too long, Niky. But make no mistake, any future displays of disrespect will result in severe repercussions.”

I clench my fists, keeping all manner of curses to myself. “Yes, my Alpha,” I mutter, my gaze lowered in submission.

Bram stalks closer, looming over me. “You are nothing, Nikolaas. No power, no magic.” His lip curls in a sneer. “You will never understand what it takes to lead. You are weak.”

Each word lands like a blow, but I refuse to show pain. Any signs of emotion could be weaponized against me. I must be ice—cool, smooth, unfeeling.

After a taut silence, Bram turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, but there’s more!” he adds, holding up his open hand in the air in a dramatic display that makes my stomach churn. “The Grand Witch allowed it. She gave away our seat like it meant nothing!” He leans against the desk and heaves a heavy sigh. “I worry, Niky…” Bram’s gaze becomes vacant. “Gavriil is after Cassandra. He means to marry into the Deveraux lineage, and if he does, that fucking head chair will be the least of our problems!”

I remain silent, a cold realization settling in my gut. I’m here merely as my brother’s audience, a sounding board for his frustrations. He seeks no counsel from me, no brotherly bond. He doesn’t even care that I’m here, standing before him after years of forced separation. The sting of rejection is a familiar pain, but it cuts deeper now, in the face of his blatant indifference.

“That fucking Ursa beast!” Bram turns away, his rage bubbling over. “He’s a smug, pretentious motherfucker!” His words drip with venom, and I can’t help but wonder what history lies between them, what wounds have festered into this seething hatred.

Pushing aside my own hurt, I try to be the voice of reason. “It’s been a long day, brother. Maybe you should lie down for a while.” The words feel hollow, a feeble attempt at consolation. I’ve already made peace with the fact that there will be no welcome home celebration after almost a decade of exile, no warm embrace or tearful reunion. I’ve accepted that Bram will not suddenly transform into the caring, attentive brother I’ve always yearned for. That hope had been a frail one from the get-go, a childish fantasy I should have long outgrown.

“Yes…” he says under his breath, smoothing a hand on the desk, his fingers tracing the polished wood grain. “Yes, it’s been a long day. I’m so tired.” He takes off his suit jacket and drops it on the chair next to mine, the fabric crumpling like a discarded second skin.

A moment of silence sails between us, heavy with unspoken resentments and unresolved pain. I feel the distance stretching out, an ocean of hurt and misunderstanding that I don’t know how to bridge.

Bram leans against the desk, and his eyes lock with mine, azure irises glinting in the dimming light. “You realize being here is a great opportunity for you,” he mumbles, his tone almost condescending. “I could have kept you in Dublin for another two years. But now that I’m in charge, we need to show these fiends a united front.” He pauses, the words ringing false even to my ears. “Family is important, Niky.”

Is it, really?I want to ask, the question burning on the tip of my tongue. For years, Bram has pushed me away, exiling me to distant shores and foreign homes. And now, suddenly, he’s preaching about the significance of family? The hypocrisy is galling. My jaw clenches tight, so much so that it’s hurting, my teeth grinding together as I swallow back the bitter accusations. I remind myself that he’s my older brother and the leader of the clan, that I owe him respect and obedience, no matter how undeserved it may feel. And so, I hold my tongue, even when it takes all of my self-restraint not to give him a piece of my mind, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that’s been building inside me for years.

“Are you all settled?” he asks in a calmer tone, the closest thing to a welcome I’ve gotten from him so far. The question feels perfunctory, a mere formality rather than genuine concern.

“Yeah…” I mumble, rising from my seat, my legs stiff from the tension coiled within me.

Bram straightens, his movements fluid and self-assured. He walks around the desk and pours himself a glass of scotch, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal. He stirs the drink in his hold and tilts the glass towards me, silently making the offer.

Don’t you think you’ve had enough?I want to say, eyeing the nearly empty decanter with disapproval. But I can’t afford to cross him again, not when our relationship is already so strained. “No, thanks,” I say simply, my tone clipped.

“Suit yourself,” Bram says, shrugging his shoulders, his indifference all but tangible. He takes a swig, savoring the burn of the alcohol. “Listen, you deserve a bit of fun, I suppose—after all that studying abroad.” He takes another sip, his words slurring slightly at the edges. “You’ve gotten the car, right?”

My mouth goes dry, my heart skipping a beat. “D’you mean the Bugatti?” I ask, quirking up an eyebrow, hardly daring to hope. Is that sleek, powerful beauty really mine now?

“Yeah…” he says, waving a dismissive hand as if it were a worthless trinket rather than a masterpiece of engineering. “You’ll have that and everything you might need at your disposal.” Another swig, the glass nearly empty now. “Enjoy the city. And when you’re fed up with it, you can take the summer house in Brittany and spend some time there.”

I am speechless, my mind reeling. “Thanks, Bram.” That’s all I can manage, the words sticking in my throat. I’ve only just arrived, and my brother’s already planning how to get rid of me again, shuttling me off to some distant property like an unwanted houseguest.

Desperation claws at my insides, a frantic need to prove my worth, to make him see me as more than just a burden. “I… uh… have a master’s in business,” I add, stepping closer to the desk, my palms sweating. “Maybe, now that I’m here, I can give you a hand with things?” Like stopping him from burning through our inheritance by purchasing incredibly expensive automobiles on a whim.

Bram’s brow creases, annoyance flashing across his features. “No need, Niky…” He harrumphs, the sound grating on my nerves. “I have people who take care of that sort of thing for me.” He points to the door with his drink, the dismissal clear. “Enjoy your stay home.”

I purse my lips and slightly nod, bitterness welling up inside me. “Alright,” I mumble, stepping back, the fight draining out of me.

Useless. Absolutely useless. How could I ever think I’d be able to get through to him, to make him see me as an equal, a true brother? Bram’s disdain towards me remains untouched by the thread of time, an immovable force that I am powerless against. I don’t know why he feels that way about me. But he does. I can’t think of anything I might have done to him to make him hate me so much, to treat me with such cold indifference.

“Niky...” he says, and for a moment, I allow myself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s about to say something kind, something that will bridge the chasm between us.

I blink, my attention snapping back to the room, to the man who wears my brother’s face but feels like a stranger.

“You get to have the best side of the deal, you know,” Bram adds, his voice heavy with exhaustion and something that might be envy. “All the fun with none of the worries.”

A spoiled heir. That’s what he’d make of me, a useless playboy with no responsibilities, no cares in the world. If only he knew the truth, the loneliness and isolation that have been my constant companions, the gnawing emptiness that no amount of fast cars or fancy houses can fill.

“Yeah…” I mumble, nodding, the fight gone out of me. “Good night, then.” The words are a hollow echo, a meaningless pleasantry that tastes like ashes on my tongue.

I turn and walk away, my shoulders hunched, my heart heavy. The door clicks shut behind me with a finality that feels like a death knell, the sound of my last hope shattering.

In the hallway, I lean against the wall, my eyes burning with unshed tears. The weight of Bram’s rejection, of the years of loneliness and isolation, crashes down on me like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me away.