Trailing behind the chief, Lucas looked around the narrowed path towards the end of the cabin.
The air smelled of old wood, bitter herbs, and burnt candle wax—something medicinal, something meant to cleanse.
Lucas hesitated for a moment, his fingers curling at his sides. He had carried this story like a wound, pressed tight against his ribs for so long that speaking it aloud felt like tearing open his flesh.
I can do this.
The door of the room swung open, and the chief settled into a worn chair by the hearth and gestured for him to sit across from her.
Her gaze never left him.
"I hope you had time to gather all of your thoughts," she said, lips tight, wrinkles showing around the edges. "Now, out with it."
Lucas heaved a deep breath and exhaled slowly. And then, haltingly, he began.
–
Meanwhile, in the cold halls of the Reed house, Sebastian was drowning.
Sebastian gripped the windowsill until his knuckles turned white.
The bond hadn't stopped aching since Lucas left—like someone had reached into his chest and yanked out a rib, leaving nothing but a raw, hollow space behind.
It hasn't been weeks since he left yet…
Sebastian growled to himself a bit when the door clicked open.
"Oh, Sebastian. You look like shit," Beatrice voiced out, her tone trailing a bit of mockery on Sebastian's state. It felt bitter around his ears.
She leaned against the frame, looking at Sebastian's stature and how his hair was disheveled and looked like he hadn't eaten for days.
"Not now," he murmured, continuing to look out of the window, the icy breeze of La Ber gracefully telling him winter's near.
Beatrice clicked her tongue and stepped inside anyway. Her heels drummed against the stone floor.
Her gaze swept over the wrecked room—the broken glass, the torn curtains, and the dark stains where Sebastian's knuckles brushed against the wood.
"He's really got you messed up, huh?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened. He had hated the way she spoke about her friend.
Well…her ex-friend, as she labeled Lucas.
"I said, not now."
Beatrice sighed, like she was dealing with a stubborn child.
"Sebastian," she called to him, sternly, like a mother. "Look at yourself. You're tearing yourself apart over some guy who walked away."
The words hit like a slap. Sebastian finally turned, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Beatrice scoffed softly, sitting across the bed, looking at the disheveled vampire.
"I know you're in pain," she said, softer and more caring. "And I know it doesn't have to be like this."
Sebastian scoffed, closing his eyes as he felt another wave of pain from the bond.
"What now? You got a miracle cure or something?"
He stared at her, eyes dull and heavy. "One flick and the pain just goes away as if nothing happened? You don't know what you are talking about, Beatrice."
"Maybe." She stood up, reaching out to him, her fingers brushing his arm like a feather.
"Maybe I don't know what you really feel right now. But it's better than seeing you like this."
"What are you talking about?" Sebastian, who was actually considering her solution, took a deep breath.
"You could just let him go." Sebastian visibly flinched at the suggestion. The bond twisted sharply in protest, a hot knife between his ribs.
"It'll hurt at first. But then? It'll just…stop." Her hand lingered; Sebastian stared at her. "You mean, severing it?"
She shrugged and placed her palm against his chest. "If that's what it takes to end your pain."
The room went quiet. Somewhere, deep down, the bond pulsed—weak and desperate. Like it knew it was being betrayed.
Sebastian closed his eyes. The thought of the bond being severed had him revolted.
It could work. It will end this pain. He already left anyway.
Sebastian went very still. He heard a voice in his head. A voice that sounded too familiar against his ears. A numb, hollow part of him whispered, Try.
Sebastian exhaled, breathing slow and uneven. The idea of severing the bond sat in his mind like a loaded gun—terrible and tempting all at once.
Beatrice watched him, her dark eyes tracing the tension in his shoulders.
"You know I'm right," she murmured, lips slowly curling into a smile.
Sebastian remained silent. The bond twisted again, a dull throb behind his ribs, as if it could hear them.
Beatrice leaned forward, hand reaching for his face, forcing it to look at her.
"You think he's out there suffering like you are?" A pause, deliberate. "He's not."
She gave him a sweet, sickening smile as she pushed herself up on tiptoe, reaching for his lips.
"He left you. And you're still letting him hurt you. Unfair, right?"
Sebastian should've shoved her away. But the numbness was spreading, thick and syrupy, muffling the bond's screams.
Maybe. Maybe she's right. Maybe this is the answer.
"Let me help you forget." She tilted her head up, her breath ghosting over his jaw, and then she kissed him.
Slow and steady, inviting him to commit his most desperate act of plea against the pain on his chest.
It wasn't gentle. It was a claim, a challenge, her fingers digging into his hair to keep him there. Sebastian didn't pull back.
But he didn't kiss her back either.
Her lips were ice cold against his lips.
For a heartbeat, the bond was silent—not just quiet, but gone, like a candle snuffed mid-flame. Sebastian froze. The relief was instant, almost dizzying.
Then it came.
There was a stone table, and Lucas was stretched across it.
His wrists were bound in silver-chained knots. Some people circled him, their faces blurry against his eyes, their hands pressed against his bare chest—not to heal, but to peel.
An old woman had her hands over Lucas's head, murmuring silent words he could not hear.
Then he heard his muffled scream.
Lucas arched off the table; his screams were raw and wordless as his skin split beneath their fingers.
Blood welled, too much of it, pooling in the grooves of the stone and dripping onto the earth below.
Sebastian jerked back from Beatrice so hard he slammed against the windowpane.
His lungs burned.
The vision continued to cling to him, sticky like a nightmare.
He heard a whisper, a final breath… It was Lucas. Sebastian.
Beatrice wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with you?"
Sebastian's voice came out ragged. "They're killing him."
A beat.
Beatrice sighed as she rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't be too dramatic. Wolves are sacred people. They won't kill one of their kind for such a trivial thing."
"No!" Sebastian's hands shook. "I saw it."
The words tore out of him. The vision hadn't just shown him pain—it had shown him a clan that could kill one of their kind.
Beatrice's laugh was sharp. "You're hallucinating. The bond's desperate. It's lying to you."
But Sebastian was already striding for the door, his arm ripping it open like a piece of paper.
"Sebastian!" She called out to him.
She trailed behind him, trying to catch up to the speedy vampire. "Where do you think you're going?"
His siblings looked at the couple, seeing the worry and desperation in their brother's eyes.
For days, he hadn't come out from his room and didn't eat or sleep.
Earlier was the first time they saw him come out for a glass of water.
"Sebastian?" His mother called out to him. He didn't look at her back, and he didn't answer their calls.
"Sebastian! If you walk out of that door, it's over."
He turned, fangs and claws out. For the first time in years, they had been together before Lucas came into his life, and he let her see his fangs fully bared.
"Then I guess you pack up."