19. Sophia

Before the blade can pierce my skin a second time, a roar shatters the chanting, reverberating through the stone walls. In the chamber”s entrance stands Oliver, his eyes a fiery amber, his features contorted in a snarl. Behind him, I catch a glimpse of armed figures—the Ravencourt High Council Guard.

”Jason,” Oliver growls, his voice barely human. ”For the love of our family, I”m begging you to step away from my mate.”

Jason whirls to face him, the dagger still clutched in his hand. ”Brother,” he sneers, ”how nice of you to join the family fun.”

”You are no brother of mine,” he says in a voice like ice.

His gaze then shifts to me, concern and fury warring in his eyes. ”Sophia, are you alright?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. The relief at seeing him, at knowing I”m no longer alone, is almost overwhelming.

Irene stirs, her voice tremulous. ”Oliver... I”m sorry... I believed it was all real.” She stops in confusion.

Jason’s features twist into something more sinister. ”Enough of this. You”re too late, Oliver. The ritual has begun, and it will be finished, with or without your blessing.”

”Jason, please, think about what this means. She is my fated mate. She bears my mark. She is as much a member of this family now as you are. If you harm her again, I will be forced to hound you to the ends of the earth. Without her, my only purpose will be to hunt you until I kill you. You know this is the way of our kind.”

His words land a glancing blow. This confrontation has been brewing for years, tangled histories and hurts colliding, finally out in the open.

Jason grips the dagger. ”Or you can reject her. And join me. A werewolf’s power comes from the shadows—you know this to be true.”

Oliver clenches his jaw, his hands balled into fists. ”I won”t deny the darkness in our past. But we can choose a different path, Jason. Free yourself from this madness before it consumes you.”

Jason scoffs. ”You always were the weak one. Playing it safe. I’ve been watching you for years.” He gestures at the watching cultists. ”With these allies, our influence will spread further than ever before.”

Shaking his head, Oliver says, ”Influence built on fear and domination is a poison that sickens everyone. I don”t want that for our family or for Ravencourt.”

”Still so naive, like when we were boys.” Jason”s expression softens for a moment, nostalgic. ”Don”t you remember the adventures we had, unfettered by rules?”

Oliver hesitates, and I wonder if he”ll be swayed by these memories. But his voice is steady as he replies, tracing a finger across his eyebrow, ”I still wear the scars, Jason. I remember you pushed boundaries that should never have been crossed. Even then, your impulsiveness clouded your judgment.”

Jason waves a hand dismissively. ”We have always done what was needed to secure our legacy.”

”No.” Oliver shakes his head firmly. ”That isn”t true strength or leadership. True strength lies in resisting darkness, not wielding it.”

For a moment, Jason is silent, considering. But then his expression hardens once more.

”You”re a fool. I offer you a chance to rule by my side, yet you refuse. So be it.” He lifts the dagger. ”With your mate”s blood, the spell will be even more powerful, and my rise to power will be complete.”

Oliver growls deep in his throat, his eyes flashing amber. He steps between me and Jason, shielding me with his body.

”Touch her, and you die.” His voice resonates with preternatural command.

Jason hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his face. ”I have no need for love or family.” He lifts the dagger again. Before Jason can carve my skin again, a commanding voice pierces the chamber”s shadows.

”Enough!”

All eyes turn to the speaker—Irene. No longer entranced, her eyes blaze with fiery purpose. She radiates authority.

”Your quarrel is not with Oliver, but with the past,” she declares. She faces Jason unflinchingly. ”Return to us as the brother we remember. Or go, and find a new path elsewhere. Those are your only choices.”

Jason stares, stunned that she has somehow broken his spell. The cultists stir uneasily, exchanging uncertain glances as the ritual unravels around them. Oliver moves cautiously forward but Jason raises the dagger yet again.

“You can’t protect her from her fate, Oliver.”

I brace myself, feeling the cold press of the stone beneath me, the racing of my heart in my ears.

And then, chaos erupts.

Oliver lunges for Jason, striking him with a force that sends the dagger clattering to the stone floor. Jason staggers back, but a twisted grin spreads across his face. He laughs, a sound that chills me to the bone.

”You think I need a knife to finish this?” he taunts, his eyes flashing with malice. Before my eyes, Jason”s form begins to shift, his body contorting and expanding. Silver fur sprouts from his skin, his features elongating into a muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth. In mere moments, an enormous, menacing werewolf, stands in his place, its eyes blazing with a feral hunger.

I struggle against my bonds, desperate to break free, but the ropes hold fast. Jason leaps over Oliver and crouches over me, his hot breath washing over my face. I can smell the coppery tang of blood on his breath, and fear courses through me like ice.

”All I need to rip her throat out,” Jason growls, his voice guttural and inhuman, ”is my very own teeth.”

Oliver shifts, too, his human form melting away to reveal the black-pelted wolf-man I already know Even in his Lycan form, I can see the desperation in his amber eyes, the anguish that twists his features.

”She is my mate, Jason,” Oliver snarls, his hackles rising. ”I have sworn on the most ancient of all vows to protect her. You can’t change that fate.”

Jason throws back his head and howls, a sound that reverberates through the chamber, sending shivers down my spine. ”You weren”t supposed to be the one,” he roars, his eyes blazing with a madness that borders on despair. ”I was the heir. You think you can take my throne. He is dying as we speak!”

I follow Jason”s gaze to where the older Faulkner sits slumped in his chair, his frail form trembling. Before my eyes, he, too, begins to shift, his body twisting and contorting. But where Jason and Oliver”s transformations were swift and fluid, the older Faulkner”s is slow and labored, his bones creaking and his face contorting with effort.

In moments, an old, lame wolf lies on the floor, its fur patchy and its eyes clouded with age. It crawls towards Jason, whimpering and cowering, its tail tucked between its legs.

”No, son,” the old wolf wheezes, his voice barely audible above the snarls and growls that fill the chamber. ”Don”t tear us apart anymore. Don”t let my sins become yours. Stop this, now.”

Jason”s eyes flare with a twisted mix of triumph and rage. He looms over the old wolf, his fangs bared in a vicious snarl. ”You have no right to ask anything of me,” he spits, his words dripping with venom. ”You cast me out, denied me my birthright. And for what? For a family legacy—a line of wolves dead and gone. While I was there, alive and needing you.” Contempt is etched in every line of his face.

Oliver steps forward, placing himself between Jason and their father. ”Jason, please,” he implores.

But Jason is beyond reason. He lunges for Oliver, his claws outstretched, his fangs aimed for his brother”s throat. Oliver meets him head-on, and the two wolves clash in a tangle of fur and fury, their snarls and yelps echoing off the stone walls.

Blood splatters the floor, matting their fur and staining their fangs. The air is thick with its scent, coppery and cloying.

Irene stands frozen, her eyes wide and haunted as she watches her brothers tear at each other. The chanting has ceased, the cultists scattering in the face of such raw, primal violence. Only Kray remains, so cool, his dead-eyed gaze fixed on the battling wolves, his expression unreadable.

Oliver,I send through our bond, my thoughts tinged with desperation and fear. Come back to me, my love.

I don”t know if he can hear me through the bloodlust. The chamber fills with snarls and howls, with the clatter of clashing fangs and tearing claws. I struggle against my bonds, my wrists raw and bleeding, as I watch the man I love fight for our future, for the chance to break the cycle of pain and betrayal that has haunted his family for so long.

Jason is larger, his silver fur matted with blood, his eyes wild with a feral rage. He lunges at Oliver, his jaws snapping, his claws tearing at his brother”s pelt. Oliver meets him head-on, his own fangs bared, his muscles rippling beneath his fur.

For a moment, it seems as though Jason has the upper hand. He pins Oliver to the floor, his claws clamping down on his brother”s throat, his eyes blazing with a savage triumph. But Oliver doesn”t give in, doesn”t submit. With a burst of strength, he wrenches free of Jason”s grasp, his teeth finding purchase in his brother”s shoulder.

Jason howls in pain, his blood staining Oliver”s face. But he doesn”t relent, doesn”t back down. He comes at Oliver again and again, his attacks growing more frenzied, more desperate with each passing moment. Oliver meets him blow for blow, a blur of fur and flashing fangs, a force of nature unleashed upon the brother who has caused him so much pain.

With each passing moment, Jason”s attacks grow weaker, his movements more erratic. Oliver presses his advantage, driving his brother back with a relentless onslaught of teeth and claws.

Finally, with a snarl of triumph, Oliver pins Jason to the floor, his claws clamping down on his brother”s throat. Jason struggles, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief, but it”s no use. Oliver has him beaten. He tightens his grip, ready to tear out his throat. No one could fault him. Jason Faulkner deserves to die.

For a moment, the chamber is silent save for the ragged panting of the two wolves, the harsh rasp of their breath echoing off the stone walls as Oliver stands astride Jason”s prone form. Oliver”s claws are still poised, ready to deliver the final blow, to end the threat that Jason poses once and for all.

But even as I brace myself for the inevitable, I feel a tug of hesitation, a whisper of doubt. Is this really the only way? Is more bloodshed, more violence, truly the answer?

I reach out through our bond, my thoughts tinged with desperation and hope.

Oliver, wait. Please, think about what you”re doing.

Oliver”s eyes flick towards me, and I can see the conflict raging within him. His wolf is howling for vengeance, for the chance to protect his mate. But the man, the brother, the son... that part of him hesitates.

”He tried to kill you, Sophia,” Oliver growls. ”He”s tried to kill all of us.”

I nod, my throat tight. ”But Oliver... he”s still your brother. He”s still a part of your family.”

Oliver”s claws flex, and for a moment, I fear that my words have fallen on deaf ears. But then, slowly, he lowers his hand, his shoulders slumping as if under a great weight.

”What would you have me do?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. ”I can”t just let him go, not after everything he”s done.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. ”Your brother lived on the streets for years, Oliver. Just like my own brother did. He”s lost, he”s hurting...but he”s not beyond help. Not beyond hope.”

Oliver”s brow furrows, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. ”You think he can be saved? After all this?”

”I think he deserves a chance,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. ”I think your mother would have wanted that. She devoted her life to helping those who were lost, those who had fallen through the cracks. Jason... he”s one of them.”

Oliver”s gaze drifts to his father, still whimpering softly on the floor. The old wolf looks broken, defeated, a shadow of the powerful alpha he once was.

”It only takes one of you to forgive the others, Oliver,” I murmur, my heart aching for the pain and the loss that this family has endured. ”Only one. Let it be you.”

For a long moment, Oliver is silent, his eyes distant, his expression unreadable. I hold my breath, waiting, hoping, praying that my words have reached him, that he can find the strength to break the cycle of hurt and betrayal that has plagued his family for so long.

And then, slowly, he nods. ”Alright,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. ”Alright. We”ll find another way.”

And then, slowly, Oliver releases his grip on Jason”s throat, his amber eyes flickering with a mix of emotions too complex to name.

Jason scrambles to his feet, his tail tucked between his legs, his ears flattened against his skull. He backs away from Oliver, his gaze darting around the chamber as if seeking an escape.

But there is none. The guards have surrounded him, their weapons trained on the defeated wolf. And Irene, her eyes clear and haunted, steps forward, her hand outstretched in a gesture of supplication.

”Jason,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. ”I know you can’t believe me, not yet. But I would rather have you alive and in prison, than speaking to me from beyond the grave.”

For a moment, Jason looks as though he might charge at her, might lash out in one final act of defiance. But then, his shoulders slump, his head hanging low. He shifts back into his human form, his naked body battered and bloody, his eyes hollow with defeat.

”It was supposed to be me,” he whispers, his voice raw with a childlike anguish.

Oliver, too, shifts back into his human form, his tux torn to shreds. He approaches his brother. “We can be a family again, if we try.”

Jason looks up at him, his eyes wide and lost, like a child seeking guidance in a world that has suddenly turned upside down. ”I don”t know how,” he whispers. ”I am what the streets made me. Not what my family needed me to be.”

Oliver reaches out, his hand finding his brother”s shoulder, squeezing it gently. Then he turns to me, his eyes shining with a love so deep, so pure, it takes my breath away. He moves to my side, his claws making quick work of my bonds, his touch gentle and reassuring against my skin, as he heals my wounds.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, breathing in the scent of him, the warmth of his body against mine. Around us, the chamber is a flurry of activity, the guards moving to secure the cultists who didn’t manage to escape. But in that moment, all that matters is Oliver, the man I love, the wolf who fought for our future.

Relief floods through me, so intense that it brings tears to my eyes. I sag against my bonds, my heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man before me, for the choice he”s made.

Oliver turns to Kray, his expression stern. ”I owe you a debt for your loyalty to my father. Your assistance will be repaid. I promise.”

Kray nods, his face an inscrutable mask. He moves forward to the elder Lord Faulkner’s side but stops.”

“Oliver, Irene? I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Irene blinks, as if waking from a long, troubled dream and runs to her father’s side. Tears spill down her cheeks as whispers over and over. ”Daddy? I’m sorry-so sorry.”

Oliver draws her into his arms, holding her close. ”It”s alright,” he murmurs, stroking her hair. ”We”ll get through this. Together.”

I watch them, my heart full to bursting. This is what a family should be, I think. Not perfect, not without flaws or scars. But bound by love, by forgiveness, by the willingness to face the darkness and come out the other side.