The air was colder than usual that night. The clouds hung low over the Silverstone woods, and the trees creaked with every gust of wind. The darkness felt heavier, not just because of the late hour, but because of what Eva was about to do.
She stood at the edge of the courtyard, cloaked in thick fur, her hands trembling beneath the fabric. She had sent word for Valen—or rather, Sylvester—to meet her outside the packhouse under the moonlight. It was time. No more pretending. No more lies.
Max stood a few feet behind her, pacing restlessly. His jaw was tight, fists clenched, eyes locked on the path. He had wanted to confront Sylvester himself. But Eva had insisted. This was her fight.
“He’s late,” Max muttered under his breath. “Probably hiding.”
“No,” Eva said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her chest. “He’ll come. He wants to see what I know.”
Footsteps echoed across the stones.
Valen appeared from the shadows, just as Eva had expected. His long coat billowed behind him, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He looked calm. Confident. Too confident.
“Eva,” he greeted her with a soft smile. “You called for me?”
She took a step forward, heart pounding. “Stop pretending.”
His smile didn’t falter. “Pretending what?”
She lifted the photograph she’d tucked into her coat and held it up. The image of Danielle, Vladymyr, and the boy with the familiar smirk stared back at them.
“I know who you are,” Eva said coldly. “Your name isn’t Valen. It’s Sylvester.”
There was no shock in his face. No denial. Just a slow, deliberate smirk that stretched across his lips.
“So,” he said, his voice turning icy, “you finally remember your mother.”
Max growled, his wolf rising just beneath the surface. Before Eva could react, he lunged forward, teeth bared, fists raised, ready to tear the man apart.
But Eva stepped between them, throwing an arm across Max’s chest.
“No,” she snapped. “I want to hear what the bastard has to say.”
Max’s eyes burned, but he stopped, his chest heaving as he backed away slightly, his glare never leaving Sylvester.
Sylvester looked amused, tilting his head as he took a step closer. “You always were brave. Even as a little girl. But you don’t understand the full story.”
Eva’s voice was sharp. “Then tell me. Tell me why you lied to me. Why you pretended to care. Why you touched me knowing who you were.”
He didn’t flinch. “Because I was made for this,” he said softly. “My whole life, I was told I’d destroy the wolves. That I would finish what my parents started. Vladymyr raised me in the shadows. Taught me to be your undoing.”
Eva’s face twisted with disgust. “You think that excuses what you did?”
“No,” he said. “But I didn’t come here for forgiveness.”
He looked directly at her now, and for the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something that almost resembled sorrow.
“You’re carrying the future,” he said, his voice lower. “My future. And I will come back for both of you.”
Max lunged again, but this time Sylvester didn’t wait.
He moved faster than a blink, disappearing into the night in a blur of shadows and wind.
Eva stood frozen in place, her breath caught in her throat.
Max was beside her in an instant, his hands clenched so tightly they trembled. “We should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”
But Eva didn’t answer right away. Her mind was spinning. Her heart ached.
Everything she had believed—every kiss, every word from Valen’s lips—had been wrapped in lies.
And now, the truth had claws.
He had vanished into the night, leaving Eva shaken and Max furious.
120
