27. Sam

When the knock on my door came, I opened it to find a stylist waiting in the hallway, a garment bag draped over her arm. It came as no surprise that Gavriil had already arranged everything concerning my attire for the evening, from the gown itself to the hair and makeup. My brother has always been the attentive type, some might say a tad controlling. As the Ursa King’s sister, he would expect nothing less than perfection from me at the Deveraux’s dinner party.

The thought makes me grin with a hint of rebellious pride as I walk through the manor’s threshold, into the witches’ lair. If only they knew the truth about the slob I really am.

The splendor of our home in Saint Petersburg pales in comparison to Deveraux Manor, and that’s saying something. With its imposing marble halls, wide spaces, and exquisite decorations, this place rivals any palace I’ve ever seen.

It’s the second time this house has gathered Alexeevs, Deverauxs, and Drakens under one roof. The seance went well enough, if by well you mean no bloodshed. But I can’t shake the feeling of walking on eggshells. The sense that the peace between our families is more fragile than ever.

I pause at the terrace’s threshold, marveling at the magical display before me. Amber string lights tangle in the trees, their glow casting a warm, inviting light over the scene. Votive candles line the staircase leading down to the lawn, where a high white tent stands in the middle of the courtyard, a dozen crystal chandeliers hanging from its ceiling.

The music is soft and lulling, drawing me in. I step closer to the balustrade, my eyes sweeping over the crowd of gorgeous warlocks and witches below. And there, skulking in the shadows, is a vampire. Dristan, I remember from the seance. He’s a charming one, an outcast in our world. Maybe I should go say hi...

“Samara,” a familiar voice calls out, interrupting my musings.

I turn, a smile blooming on my lips as I see my brother striding towards me. “Vlad!” I exclaim, surprised and delighted by his presence. “You’re here, in Paris!”

Volodya opens his arms, and I take a moment to appreciate his impeccable tux, the white gold cufflinks, the bespoke shoes that probably cost more than most people make in a month. He looks like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.

I all but launch myself into Vlad’s waiting arms, desperate for the comfort and familiarity of his embrace. As his strong arms wrap around me, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety and love, I feel some of the tension drain from my body, the knots of anxiety and loneliness that have taken up residence in my chest loosening just a fraction.

“Anya sends her regards,” Vlad murmurs, his voice low and reassuring, and I can’t help but smile at the mention of my sister-in-law. But even as I melt into his hug, savoring the warmth and solidity of his presence, I’m reminded once again of the special bond we share, the unbreakable tie that binds us together.

Vlad may not be my blood brother, but he’s every bit as much an Alexeev as Gavriil or I. Father took him in before I was born, a lost and lonely wolf pup in need of a pack, and he’s been a constant presence in my life ever since, a steady rock in the midst of the chaos and turmoil that seems to follow our family wherever we go.

“Gods, I’ve missed you...” I mumble, my voice muffled against his chest as tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. It’s a simple statement, but it carries the weight of all the things I can’t say, all the emotions I’ve been bottling up inside for far too long.

I know Gavriil has always feared that I loved Vlad more. But the truth is, they both hold equal pieces of my heart. Gavriil is my blood, my flesh and bone, the brother I was born to. But Vlad... Vlad is my chosen family, the brother I claimed for myself, and that bond is just as strong, just as unshakable.

As we slowly part, concern flickers in Vlad’s expression, his brow furrowing as he takes in the shadows under my eyes, the tight set of my jaw. “Hey...” he purrs, his voice soft and coaxing. “Is everything alright?”

I want to say no. I want to tell him everything, to pour out all the fears and frustrations that have been eating away at me for months now. I want to tell him that our household has become a living hell ever since we left our home in Saint Petersburg, that Gavriil’s heart has turned to stone in the wake of Luciana’s death, that I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of his grief and rage.

But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to burden Vlad with the truth, to shatter the fragile peace of this moment with the harsh realities of my life. So instead, I force a smile onto my face, pushing down the lump in my throat as I pull back to look up at him, my eyes wide with feigned surprise and delight.

“I didn’t expect you would come!” I exclaim, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a rush, a desperate attempt to change the subject, to steer the conversation away from the dangerous waters of my own emotions.

Vlad smirks, his silvery eyes twinkling with mischief. “Me neither,” he admits, his tone conspiratorial. “The woman practically put me on the plane... D’you think she might have been that desperate for some breathing space?”

I can’t help but chuckle at that, knowing all too well how overprotective Vlad can be when it comes to his family. “Well, you canbe a tad overbearing at times...” I tease, but quickly pivot the conversation before I can get myself into trouble. “And my niece? How’s the little darling?”

Vlad’s face lights up at the mention of his daughter, pride and love radiating from every pore. “She keeps growing!” he gushes, his voice filled with delighted amazement. “My sweet Katya has already spoken her first word—papa. She won’t say mama yet, and it’s been driving Anya mad!”

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that warms me from the inside out, as he pulls out his cellphone. Instantly, a video appears on the screen, featuring my beautiful baby niece. She’s a porcelain doll come to life, with light brown hair and rosy, flushing cheeks. My heart swells with love and longing as I watch her giggle and coo, her tiny hands reaching out towards the camera.

But Vlad tucks the phone away after a moment, his expression shifting to one of wonder as he takes in our surroundings. “Oh, but enough about me...” he says, his eyes sweeping over the glittering lights and elegant decor of the Deveraux’s lawn. “Look at where we’re standing. Can you believe it?”

I step back, putting a little distance between us, just enough to meet his stormy gaze. Vlad keeps his arm around my shoulders, a comforting weight that grounds me in the moment. “You seem more than happy about it,” I note, a subtle frown creasing my brow.

“I am,” Vlad confirms, his voice brimming with satisfaction as he surveys the luminous expanse before us. “This is a great night for our clan—Father would be so proud. Gavriil asked for Cassie’s hand in marriage. He’s branding her as we speak.”

He glances at me sidelong, a hint of mischief curling the corner of his lips, and I feel a flicker of unease in my gut. Something about his words, his tone, doesn’t sit right with me.

“Oh?” I murmur, my frown deepening. “Really?”

Vlad leans closer, concern etching itself into the lines of his face. “Does the news displease you, Sam?” he asks, his voice gentle but probing. “Are you not happy for Gavriil?”

I hesitate, the sudden awareness of the game we play in my family hitting me like a ton of bricks. Vlad may be my brother, my confidant, but in this moment, with the weight of politics and power plays hanging heavy in the air, I know I have to choose my words carefully.

“I mean... I am...” I manage, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy in my mouth. “If he loves her.”

But even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie. Gavriil doesn’t love Cassandra, could never love her the way he loved Luciana. His heart, his very soul, belongs to his true mate, now and forever.

Vlad sighs, a flicker of compassion glinting in his eyes. “Love isn’t everything, my sweet,” he murmurs, his tone gentle but firm.

I feel a surge of irritation at his words, a frustration that he could be so blind to the truth. “But it is everything,” I insist, my voice rising with each word. “It is. Vlad, I’ve never seen Gavriil happier than when he was with Luciana.”

My brother starts, clearly taken aback by my vehemence. He holds up a cautious hand, his expression troubled. “Sam,” he whispers, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Luciana is dead.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I know it’s the truth, know that Luciana is gone and never coming back. But the idea that Gavriil should just move on... it feels wrong, like a betrayal of everything they shared.

“And just because she’s dead, is he supposed to give up on love?” I demand, my voice shaking with emotion. “No, Vlad. That is not right!”

Vlad’s eyes widen, worry creasing his brow. In a flash, he’s gripping my elbow, steering me away from the crowd, his movements urgent and purposeful. “Please,” he murmurs, his voice low and confidential. “Don’t mention any of this to Gavriil. It will only hurt him and spoil the evening.”

I open my mouth to argue, to make my grievances known, but before I can utter a word, a familiar figure catches my eye. Clarissa Draken, Nik’s sister, brushes past us, her presence sending a jolt of electricity through my veins.

If she’s here... could Nik be nearby?

My heart leaps into my throat, pounding out a frantic rhythm as my eyes scan the crowd, desperate for any sign of him. I follow Clarissa’s movements, tracking her until she disappears into a group of witches, but there’s no trace of Nik among them.

Oh gods. Where is he?

“Are you looking for someone?” Vlad asks, his tone curious, almost knowing.

“No,” I breathe, the lie bitter on my tongue. As much as I love my brother, I can’t trust him with this. I can’t risk him reporting back to Gavriil about my forbidden feelings for Nik.

Suddenly, someone crashes into my shoulder, sending me stumbling forward. “Ow!” I yelp, startled and angry as I whirl around to confront the person responsible.

A woman darts past us, reckless and unabashed, her skin shimmering with the sharpest magic. It’s a sight that would go unnoticed by most, but as a witch, I can see the beaming web of power that tangles around her.

My eyes narrow, recognition dawning as I take in the intricate pattern of the magic. “I think that’s Gavriil’s brand...” I mumble, more to myself than to Vlad.

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning in closer to hear me over the din of the party.

“Was that Cassandra Deveraux, Gavriil’s chosen mate?” I ask, caution tempering my tone.

Vlad nods, his expression grim. “Yeah, it was.”

I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch Cassandra disappear into the manor. “Well, she’s in a hurry,” I mutter, irritation prickling under my skin. Who does this woman think she is, barging through the crowd like that?

My train of thought is interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the lawn. “Get out of the way!” a familiar voice barks, cutting through the chatter of the guests.

I turn to see Bram Draken shoving his way through the throng of people, his face twisted with anger.

“He looks angry as hell,” my brother notes, an eyebrow arching in surprise.

“Mm. Such a lovely party,” I murmur wryly. And then, a thought hits me like a bolt of lightning. If Bram is here... then surely, Nik must be with him.

My throat goes dry, my pulse hammering in my ears as I scan the crowd, desperate for a glimpse of those ocean eyes, that tousled blonde hair. But even as I search, a sinking feeling takes root in my gut.

Nik isn’t here. I would know if he was, would feel his presence like a physical thing, a tug on my very soul.

As Bram draws closer, I notice something strange about his hands. They’re clenched into fists at his sides, glinting with a spectral red light that I’ve never seen before. Draken magic, pulsing and alive, so different from the golden glow that surrounded Nik that fateful night.

Stark dread claws at my throat as Bram charges towards us, his men following close behind. “Vlad...” I whisper, my voice trembling as I press closer to my brother’s side.

Vlad’s eyes narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he takes in the approaching threat. In one smooth motion, he steps in front of me, shielding me with his body as he faces down the Draken heir.

I peer around his broad shoulders, my eyes scanning the faces of Bram’s entourage, searching for any sign of Nik. But he’s not there, and the realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

Face it, Samara. He’s not coming. He doesn’t care enough to see me, to fight for what we had.

It’s over. It’s really, truly over.

“Fucking Drakens,” Vlad mutters as Bram and his men push past us, disappearing into the manor.

He turns to me, his eyes soft with concern as he takes in my stricken expression. “Are you all right, Sammy?” he asks, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders as he crouches down to my level.

Sometimes, I swear, Vlad still sees me as the little girl I used to be, the baby sister in need of his protection. It’s sweet, in a way, but right now, it only serves to make me feel small and fragile, like I might shatter at the slightest touch.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak past the lump in my throat.

“Is there a problem here?” a deep, resonant voice cuts through the air, chilling me to the bone.

“Gavriil!” Vlad exclaims, straightening up and turning to face our brother with a broad grin. “Congratulations, brother.”

The Ursa King accepts Vlad’s hug with a stiff nod, his expression as burdened and brooding as ever. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice flat and lifeless. “I’m glad you could make it. I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving? But the party has only just begun,” Vlad protests, clearly taken aback by Gavriil’s abrupt declaration.

But I know better. I’ve seen the toll that Luciana’s death has taken on my brother, the way he’s withdrawn into himself, becoming a mere shadow of the man he used to be. Vlad may not understand, but I do. All too well.

“Samara,” Gavriil says, his voice heavy with exhaustion as he turns to me. “You may stay a little longer. Dima will take you home when you’re ready.”

“I’ll take her home,” Vlad interjects, squeezing Gavriil’s shoulder in a gesture of support. “You go with Dima.”

A rush of gratitude washes over me at Vlad’s words, at the understanding and compassion that shines in his eyes. He knows, even without being told, that Gavriil needs a moment of solitude, a chance to confront the demons that haunt him in the wake of this ceremony. But Vlad also understands that our brother cannot be left alone, not now, not when the burden of his grief and guilt threatens to crush him.

My heart aches for my brother, for the pain that he carries with him always, the weight of a love lost and a future stolen. “Where are you going?” I ask, my voice small and hesitant.

But Gavriil doesn’t answer. He simply turns and walks away, Dima falling into step beside him as they disappear into the manor.

“Vlad, I worry for him...” I mumble, my eyes fixed on the spot where they vanished from view.

“Don’t.” Vlad pulls me into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. “He’ll be alright, Sam. Everything’s going to be alright now.”

But even as he speaks the words, I know they’re a lie. Nothing about this feels right, feels like the happy ending we’re all pretending it is.

“Because he’s marrying a Deveraux witch,” I murmur, my gaze vacant and unfocused as I stare out over the glittering lawn.

Is that what awaits me, too? A loveless marriage of convenience, a life spent playing the dutiful wife to a man I barely know? The thought makes my stomach turn, bile rising in my throat.

“Come,” Vlad says, offering me his arm with a gentle smile. “I haven’t seen you in so long... Let’s walk a little.”

I manage a faint smile in return, curling my hand around his elbow and allowing him to lead me away from the crowds, into the quiet solitude of the gardens.

But even as we walk, even as I let the beauty of the night wash over me, I can’t shake the feeling of emptiness that yawns inside me, the ache of a love lost and a future forever out of reach.

Because Nik is gone, and with him, all my dreams of a happily ever after.

And no matter how hard I try to pretend, no matter how many fake smiles I plaster on my face... I know that nothing will ever be the same again.