Chapter 22
OLIVIA
“Now, darling,” Syris Glovefox announced as he practically flung himself onto the couch beside me, “you haven’t even seen the embarrassing photos yet.”
His wings fluttered excitedly behind him while he fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it in his rush. He shoved the screen directly in front of my face with the proud enthusiasm of someone unveiling priceless art.
“I had Rayla upload every single one she had,” he declared. “And I organized them all into neat little folders myself.”
“They’re called albums, you dolt.”
Easton Winstale’s dry correction floated through the room as he stepped around the coffee table with effortless grace, lowering himself into the armchair across from us. He lifted his teacup toward me in greeting, one sharp brow arching as if silently apologizing for the chaos surrounding me.
“Mine are waaaay better.”
Ternin Desmond slid onto my other side before anyone could argue otherwise, already yanking out his own phone. His pale hair shimmered beneath the lights, those pink gemstone eyes practically sparkling with mischief.
“Look at this one.” He jabbed the screen dramatically.
A tiny baby Calix crawled across the floor completely naked, little hands slapping the hardwood while his diaper-less butt bounced in the air.
“He refused to wear clothes for a time,” Ternin wheezed, laughing so hard he had to grip my arm for support. “Every time we turned around, he’d escaped again. You’d think he was a damn wolf with how much he liked being in the nude.”
The sound of his laughter filled the entire room, so loud and infectious that I couldn’t stop my own grin from breaking free.
“And what’s wrong with being a wolf? The naked body is a natural form,” Manic Rossey rumbled as he dropped heavily onto the couch beside Easton, balancing an overloaded plate of food in one hand.
He wiggled his brows at me exaggeratedly.
“Look how he turned out now. Strong build. Good shoulders. A perfect specimen. Rack’s nothing to joke about either. ”
Heat rushed into my cheeks instantly. I had to duck my head into my mug to hide it, which only made the four older men laugh harder.
This was surreal. Absolutely surreal.
These men were legends in the supe word, even boogeymen to some. They were the monsters others whispered about in alleyways and bars. People lowered their voices when they said their names, yet here they were, arguing over baby photos like overgrown grandpas at a family barbecue.
“What the fuck are you all telling her?” Rack and Calix stepped into the living room at the same time, carrying food and drinks.
Calix stopped dead the second he saw all four grandfathers crowded around me like gossiping hens. His eyes narrowed immediately as he put the food on the coffee table.
Rack, meanwhile, walked straight toward me carrying a steaming mug.
I grabbed the mug and took a sip a little too quickly, mostly to hide the reaction crawling all over my face. The second the liquid hit my tongue, my eyes widened.
The rich chocolate melted together with the blood in a way that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did. Warmth spread through my chest immediately, curling through my body until I let out a tiny sound of surprise into the rim of the cup.
Rack noticed. Of course he did.
One corner of his mouth tipped upward while he settled into the couch beside me, clearly pleased with himself.
As I slurped down the contents like a newborn addict, I kept glancing at Rack over the rim, wondering what he looked like as a kid. Was he serious and quiet even then? Or was he one of those chaotic little boys that climbed furniture and broke things?
“So, Olivia...” Ternin’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to find all four of them staring at me expectantly.
“How’s Calix treating you as your maker?” Ternin asked, pointing accusingly toward him. “And don’t sugarcoat it either. If he’s being an asshole, I’ll beat him myself.”
Calix groaned loudly and threw his arms into the air. “Oh, come on, give me a break.” Even while he complained, a flush climbed up the back of his neck.
“He’s been really good to me,” I admitted softly, and Calix went still. His attention locked onto me so completely it almost stole my next breath.
“H-he’s been teaching me everything,” I continued, suddenly very aware of his eyes on me. “He taught me how to run without smashing into walls…”
A nervous laugh escaped me. Unfortunately, my brain immediately betrayed me with the memory of us destroying the kitchen, and I looked away so fast my neck almost snapped.
“And…” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “He gave me somewhere to stay when I didn’t have one.” Ternin made a satisfied sound deep in his throat.
“Well. obviously,” he scoffed dramatically. “Anything less and his mother would beat his ass. She didn’t raise some bastard who would throw a treasure like you out into the streets.”
He leaned toward me conspiratorially. “She’s my daughter, by the way,” he whispered proudly. “The one who kept all these idiots’ sons in line.”
That statement immediately detonated into chaos.
“Oh please—”
“You’re acting like your children weren’t terrors—”
“Rayla nearly blew up an entire block! She actually did blow up your car!”
“And whose fault was that?”
Voices crashed over one another, accusations and bragging freely flying across the living room.
I sat there, clutching my mug and staring at them in complete disbelief because none of this matched the stories. Not even close.
Manic Rossey was supposed to be the werewolf king who ripped rival alphas apart barehanded. That same man was currently stealing bacon off Easton’s plate while grinning like a child.
Syris Glovefox was rumored to have seduced enemies into destroying themselves in front of their own families, smiling as they wailed for mercy.
Meanwhile, he was aggressively zooming in on embarrassing baby photos of Calix, pointing out how cute his toes were.
And Easton Winstale sat sipping tea with elegant posture and calm eyes despite being the very mage credited with revolutionizing magical weapons. The man people feared would kill them simply by reaching into his pocket. The unknown who was more terrifying than anything.
“You all realize,” Ternin loudly announced over everyone else, “that if I hadn’t come up with the competition for Rayla’s hand, none of your bloodlines would’ve continued.”
He crossed his arms smugly and tipped his chin skyward. “My daughter was worth more than all your sons combined.”
The others immediately erupted again. Arguing. Laughing. Accusing. And all I could think was, how could these men be both things at once?
How could the same vampire, Ternin Desmond, rumored to bathe Vegas in the blood of his enemies by tearing out their hearts and eating them in front of their faces, be sitting here arguing with his friends and teasing his grandson?
These men, these feared Syndicate bosses, were crowded around a coffee table arguing over photos and bragging about their children like overly competitive grandfathers at a cookout.
It felt impossible.
Manic and Ternin were practically in a standoff, arguing over whether the grandkids inherited more from Rayla or their fathers. Ternin kept jabbing a finger into the air every time he made a point while Manic barked over him, both refusing to surrender an inch.
Syris sauntered over to them like he was enjoying every second of the chaos, occasionally tossing in comments that somehow calmed the argument while simultaneously making it worse.
While the others launched into another argument, Easton quietly stood and crossed the room toward me. The amusement in his glacial crystal blue eyes softened as he held out his phone.
“Those idiots could debate this for days,” he murmured. I laughed softly and took the phone from him.
The first picture showed a young Rack, maybe ten years old, standing off to the side while the other kids ran around behind him. His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, watching instead of joining.
The next photo made my chest tighten.
Calix had marched right up to him, grabbed his wrist, and was dragging him toward the others while Rack looked thoroughly unimpressed about it.
A smile tugged at my lips automatically.
“That’s always been these two,” Easton quietly said beside me. “Calix charging headfirst into life. Rack standing back and thinking everything through.” His mouth tipped slightly upward. “A perfect balance.”
Something in his tone made me glance up. He was already looking at me, somehow knowingly, like he’d pieced together thoughts I hadn’t even admitted to myself yet.
“Just like a steering wheel needs an engine,” he continued lightly, though his eyes stayed sharp, “sometimes people are built to work together.”
My stomach tightened.
“And sometimes,” he added, “things drift out of alignment.” He mimed turning a wrench slowly in the air. “Then somebody has to tighten things back into place.”
I stared at him, speechless. Easton’s smile deepened just slightly.
“I knew you’d understand.”
Then, before I could even think of a response, he straightened and snapped his fingers loudly at the others.
“It’s after three in the morning,” he barked. “And unlike the rest of you degenerates, these kids have work to do tomorrow.”
A chorus of complaints exploded immediately. Syris, ignoring every single one of them, suddenly wrapped both arms around me so hard my feet almost left the floor.
“You remember this, darling,” he dramatically declared into my hair, “you are the princess of this castle.”
I laughed breathlessly as he squeezed tighter.
“And those two?” He pointed wildly toward Rack and Calix. “Lowly servants. Blood servants! Never let them forget it.”
“Syris—”
“No, no!” He waved Calix off. “I’m teaching her important survival skills.”
Then he leaned down and whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear anyway. “Emotional manipulation is a woman’s greatest weapon against men.”
I snorted with laughter despite myself.
“I’m not doing that,” I told him.
He winked. “Not intentionally, at least.”
Manic stepped in next, pulling me into a warm hug that completely swallowed me up.
“If you need anything,” he quietly rumbled near my ear, “call us.” He tapped my phone knowingly. “We already put our numbers in there.”
Then he winked and lumbered toward the door like the terrifying werewolf king he absolutely was not acting like tonight.
Easton gave me one last small nod on his way out, that same unreadable smile lingering on his face.
Across the room, I caught Syris dragging Calix aside. Whatever he whispered made Calix’s shoulders tighten immediately, and Syris looked unusually serious for once.
Before I could wonder about it any longer, Ternin suddenly grabbed my shoulders and spun me toward him.
“You,” he announced, dramatically pointing at my chest, “have Desmond blood in your veins now.”
I blinked.
“So that means,” he continued proudly, “you’ll always have an ally, a partner in crime, in me.”
His expression turned fiercely protective in an instant.
“And if either of those idiots makes you cry,” he jerked a thumb toward Rack and Calix, “you call me immediately.” Then he leaned down close, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“I’ve always wanted the chance to save a damsel in distress and be the hero for once. ”
I burst out laughing.
A second later, he was already halfway out the front door, waving wildly while shouting threats back at Rack and Calix over his shoulder.
Neither of them even tried to argue anymore. They just stood there and took it like men who’d lost this battle centuries ago.
And then they were gone. The silence that settled over the house afterward felt strange, heavy, like all the warmth and noise had been scooped out in one motion.
I stood there, staring at the empty doorway, and realized with startling clarity that I already missed those loud, ridiculous, overbearing men.
Maybe that was what family was like. A real family. Being exhausted by them while they were there but lonely the second they left.
“I’m so sorry about them.”
Calix appeared beside me so quickly I barely noticed him move. His expression was twisted somewhere between embarrassed and fond.
“They do this,” he admitted. “They bulldoze into people’s lives and make themselves comfortable.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can tell them to back off. Make sure they don’t bother you again.”
“No.”
The answer came out instantly. Both him and Rack looked at me, and I smiled softly.
“They’re your family.” My chest tightened painfully and warmly all at once. “They should always feel welcome here.”
Calix’s face shifted slightly at that. Something almost fragile flickered across it before disappearing again.
I laughed quietly, wanting to ease the tension I felt building. “Besides,” I added, “I feel like trying to stop them would only make them worse.”
Rack actually laughed aloud at that.
“Yes,” he agreed, stepping closer to my side. “Fighting them only strengthens their resolve.” His hand brushed against mine lightly before curling around it. “It’s better to let the hurricane pass naturally.”
I looked up at him. The silver swirling through his purple eyes somehow looked softer tonight.
“Come on,” he said gently. “We should get some sleep. We’ll go over the plan tomorrow.”
I nodded tiredly, and we all started up the stairs. Halfway to the third floor, I glanced back down. The two of them were still there, watching, waiting until they knew I’d made it upstairs safely.
My chest squeezed.
I gave them a tiny wave. “Goodnight.” Then I sped the rest of the way upstairs and collapsed face-first onto the bed.
Tomorrow wasn’t about feelings. Tomorrow was about Manshu. About vengeance. About making him pay for what he’d done to me.
As sleep finally dragged me under, the last thought curling through my mind made a slow smile spread across my face.
Maybe becoming a monster like Calix’s grandfathers wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.