Chapter Two
Ryan
I walk up to the threshold of the Kaye family’s grand estate, a sense of familiarity and strangeness mangling in my chest. The towering columns and sprawling gardens look both the same and different, as if time has laid a thin veil over the memories of my youth.
It’s been two decades since I last saw this place—or Augustus Kaye, for that matter.
My old friend appears in the large doorway as I make my way up, and for a moment, we just look at each other. I study the man standing before me, and in the depth of his gaze, I recognize the same scrutiny mirrored back at me.
The years have etched lines into Augustus’ face, silvered his once-bright hair, and added a certain heaviness to his once-vibrant eyes.
Doubtless, he remains a handsome man, and it would not surprise me if I were to learn that he is still a magnet for the ladies as he was in our more youthful days, but time catches up to us all.
But beneath it all, I see the friend I once knew.
“Augustus,” I say, a small, nostalgic smile on my face.
“It’s been a long time, Ryan.” Augustus mirrors my smile as we clasp hands, the grip firm and steady.
I pat him on the shoulder. “How many years has it been? Twenty?”
Augustus pats his hand over my own on his shoulder. “Twenty-five,” he corrects me.
I chuckle slightly as we begin to walk into the mansion. “You look old, Augustus,” I tease.
My old friend laughs, his back to me, his broad shoulders bouncing slightly, wrapped in a well-tailored coat. “One would think you were the perfect picture of youth.”
The butler, a stiff man with a face like a chiseled bust, gives us both a respectful nod as he opens the door to Augustus’s office for us both. The firelight flickers across the room, casting long shadows and a warm glow over the dark wood paneling and rich furnishings.
Augustus turns back to me when we reach the middle of the room. “It has been far too long,” he says.
“It has,” I agree, though the words feel inadequate to encompass over two decades that have now passed. I did not intend for it to be this long.
Years ago, when I first told Augustus of my decision to leave the city, he was distraught with confusion.
“Leaving the city where you were born just isn’t something wolves do, Ryan,” I recall him saying in exasperation.
He was right. Leaving the city where you are born to live elsewhere is an extremely rare occurrence, only ever happening if someone was exiled, and even then, exile is only reserved for the worst of transgressions and a thing mostly of the past.
There was also the small matter of me being the most powerful and highest-ranked Alpha.
This made my decision all the more perplexing to my best friend.
We were kings here. Young. Powerful. Highly sought after.
We had the entire city at our feet. We could have the best choice for our mates. It was perfect.
Perhaps that moment reveals the fundamental difference between us.
Augustus has always been a man who finds solace in comfort.
He revels in the routine, the familiar, and, of course, he has an insatiable appetite for the pleasures that lie between a woman's legs.
I, on the other hand, have always been the more ambitious one of the two—constantly drawn to the unknown, ever thirsty for greater accomplishments.
The offers that came from the other wolf families in different countries were enough to consume my imagination with the endless possibilities for expansion. And when I have my mind set on something, I do it.
“Scotch or brandy?” Augustus’ voice snaps me out of my flurry of thoughts and memories.
“Brandy,” I answer, patting his shoulder.
We settle into the deep armchairs by the fire, a decanter of brandy and another of scotch between us. The room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft clink of crystal as Augustus pours us each a glass of brandy.
“I heard about your wife,” Augustus begins, his voice low and solemn. “I know it has been a very long time now, and I did not get the chance to say it before. But I’m sorry.”
I nod, taking a sip of the brandy. The warmth of the drink spreads through me, a brief comfort against the cold reality of my loss. “It was twenty years ago,” I say, staring into the amber liquid. Has it really been that long? I can’t believe I’m already fifty. I became a widower at the age of 30.
It has been so long since then, two decades that feel both like a lifetime and the blink of an eye. I wasn’t deeply in love with her. We had an arranged marriage, which is the norm when you come from a powerful family, but I respected her.
We had been engaged when I decided to leave, and it took a few years before I sent for her, both because I was busy and because she was hesitant to leave everything she had ever known to follow me.
At first, she tried to wait at home, but when it proved that I was not returning any time soon, she finally left the city and came to join me.
When she fell ill, it was sudden and swift.
There was no time for long goodbyes, no drawn-out farewells.
I was there, of course, by her side until the end.
I did my duty as her husband, and when she was gone, I buried her with the respect she deserved.
Amidst it all, we had formed a friendship of sorts.
“Does twenty years dull the pain of a lost spouse?” Augustus says as he twirls his glass, snapping me back to reality.
There’s a pause, a moment where the words hang between us. Was it pain I felt when she passed? I am a busy man, so I did all I could to honor her, but business still took all of my focus.
I look up at my friend. “Are you asking because you lost yours?”
Then Augustus leans back in his chair, his expression shifting to something more guarded.
“You’ve heard the news, it seems,” he says, his tone carefully controlled.
I had, indeed. I came back to the city two days ago, but before that, I’d done my research and read up on the news and business digests to see what I’d missed so that I wouldn’t be outdated when I arrived.
I did it mostly to see whose families had changed heads in my absence and who had married into what family. I found more than just that. Augustus has also lost his wife, but to prison, not to death.
“I’ve heard some things,” I admit. “A powerful illegitimate daughter who’d grown up poisoned by your wife. But I’d rather hear the truth from you.”
Augustus sighs, setting his glass down on the table beside him.
“Most of it is true. I do have an illegitimate daughter. Cassie. It’s true that I had not known about her until recently.
She is incredible, especially with everything she has endured.
She is my daughter by a maid I employed many years ago. ”
Of course, Augustus has a child with a maid.
“Cassie is a white wolf, Ryan. The White Wolf.”
“So, I’ve heard. You are an extremely lucky man, my friend. Fathering a white wolf isn't something that happens every day,” I say. It’s a true blessing.
“She got married last year, and she is doing well. Among her mates is this powerful young Alpha, Ares. You must have heard of him. Some of our age even call him the new you.” A mild chuckle escapes Augustus’ lips as he concludes that statement.
“No one is the new me.” My words have a blunt edge to them, and I make sure to look Augustus in his eyes as I say them. I can tell from the swift change in his expression that he can tell I am serious.
I have, in fact, heard about this young and powerful boy from the Linds household, and it is not the first time I have heard that comparison.
The young upstart is still growing in his powers, but they say he already rivals me in strength.
However, I am at my peak, and I have all the experience my years have afforded me.
That means, for now, anyway, I am still the most powerful Alpha.
“Besides,” I change the subject. “I heard your legitimate daughter was in marriage talks with the Linds boy, but he chose her sister instead. How did she take that?”
The news was still splattered with some headlines about Leila Kaye despite the other overshadowing news. The things I’ve read are not so savory.
“Very well, actually. Better than I could have expected. They have formed quite the bond,” Augustus says easily.
“That is lucky again,” I say with a nod. At least he does not have to contend with the calamity that would ensue if a white wolf and a powerful Omega waged war under his roof. I would not have been surprised if Leila had raised hell. It would seem she is quite gracious.
Augustus nods, and his eyes seem to fix on nothing. I can tell from his expression that he has arrived at the most difficult part of his report.
“Did your wife truly do what the news says?” I ask, breaking the lengthy silence, giving my friend an avenue to say what he has been meaning to.
Augustus’ face darkens, and he looks away as if the words themselves are too heavy to bear.
“Yes,” he says, the words falling like stones in the quiet room.
“Cressida made sure I never heard about Cassie. Of course, if she had not done what she did, Cassie would have shot into the limelight since her childhood and been revered as the white wolf. Of course, then it would have been easy for the maid to tell me she was my child. But to use those banned blockers? The child was even shiftless for most of her life because of it.”
I sit attentively to Augustus’ louder tone. I understand his judgment. To rob one of their wolf is akin to murder. She went too far.
“She even tried to have her assassinated. If it wasn’t for her mates, my daughter would be dead. I had to turn her in after that.”
“You did the right thing,” I say quietly, though I’m sure it was not as though he had much choice.