Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
While engulfed by the swirling fog of fragmented images, the world around me transformed into a mosaic of fleeting moments that overwhelmed my senses. The fog shifted, and another memory began to form before my eyes, like an artist’s canvas slowly coming to life.
When the cascade of images finally stilled, I expected to see Torin’s memory of a forest, his new house, or his pack territory.
Instead, he was still trapped in the bedchambers of the vampire Queen.
The air grew dense with desperation, and my every instinct screamed for me to intervene and help my mate.
I can’t bear witness to his torment any longer.
Watching his defeated posture was like shards of glass being driven into my heart. My pulse was erratic, pounding in my ears, and I watched Torin’s hunched body under the harsh glow from an overhead chandelier, kneeling on the floor, naked and hurt and scarred.
I would have thought he was dead if it wasn’t for his chest’s slight rise and fall. The chains dangled in the air, and as they swayed slightly, a soft chime filled the room.
“Torin,” I whispered. “My Gods, what has she done to you?”
Hot tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, but I blinked and focused on my mate. The heaviness of my body brought me to my knees near him. How would one heal from such trauma? My chest ached while my knees turned numb as I watched Torin and let out several sobs.
I should have been more understanding and patient with him. Instead, I kept pushing him beyond his limits. And then I hurt him in the worst way possible by choosing to view his memories when he begged me not to.
Taking a shaky breath, I realized what I had done to Torin was similar to what Victoria had done to him—I had betrayed his trust.
My eyes stung with unshed tears, and I shook my head. I’d hurt the man I deeply cared for.
I looked at Torin, wanting to scream my apology.
His flesh hadn’t completely healed and had jagged edges.
I reached toward his chest to trace the bumpy skin—a mark of what could never be undone.
But my fingers swept through Torin’s body as if made of wind, unable to touch his skin, but I felt his agony.
Suddenly, the bedchamber door creaked open, causing me to yelp, and my father and Uncle Derek walked inside, looking over their shoulders. I stood and wiped the wetness from my eyes and cheeks.
“Dad?” I asked stupidly and sighed.
Then I recognized which memory I was experiencing since Dad had told me the story of how he met Torin in the vampire castle during the war thirty years ago. Although I already knew the outcome, I braced myself for the events that were about to unfold before me.
Dad and Uncle Derek looked so much alike when they were younger. My gaze followed my favorite uncle first, and I smiled. Uncle Derek had icy, striking blue eyes, reminding me of the winter skies.
Beside him, Dad stood slightly taller and more muscular. Dad’s face was marked by vigor and vitality and exuded maturity beyond his years. Sweat dripped at the sides of his face, and I wondered if Dad and Uncle Derek had already figured out they were losing the war.
The pang of longing behind my chest was a bittersweet blessing. I was grateful for one last opportunity to see my uncle, even if I was only a ghost in a memory.
Dad sauntered toward Torin as if exhaustion already dragged at his body, but his dark eyes still radiated strength and authority.
My father strode deeper into the bedchambers and stood in front of Torin. My mate lifted his gaze reluctantly as if he didn’t want to bother and flashed his crimson eyes at the werewolf King. It was a warning that he had been turned into a monster.
The King stumbled back but recovered quickly and crouched before Torin as if he wasn’t afraid of him.
“Kill me,” Torin said, tugging on his chains, and my dad’s eyes grew wider.
He shook his head. “If we leave here alive, I can offer you a place to belong and call home. Although it’ll be a bumpy ride since you are part vampire now. But you don’t deserve to die.”
Dad must have sensed the wolf spirit in Torin and understood he was the first one of his kind—a hybrid.
My smile grew, and the urge to hug my father washed over me.
I would always remember my father as a great ruler.
He would never take anyone’s life without a thought or understanding of their situation first.
“Brendan, we have to go. She is coming,” Uncle Derek said as he stepped away from the door.
Victoria wouldn’t let anyone take away her play toy.
In the next several minutes, the brothers did everything possible to release Torin from the chains.
They frantically yanked the silver with supernatural strength, letting the poisonous metal burn their skin, and attempted to break the chains with their claws.
Dad and Uncle Derek were running out of options and time.
“We’re not leaving you behind,” my dad said.
Torin looked my Dad straight in the eye, some strange emotion passing over his face. Grunting in pain, he nodded toward the nightstand next to the bed.
“The key is in there,” Torin said.
My sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. He had asked Dad to end his torment and let both royal werewolves burn their flesh even though Torin knew where the key to his freedom was. He yearned for an escape from pain rather than freedom from this hellish castle.
I drew in a long, deep breath.
Uncle Derek yanked open the drawer and took out the key.
The clinking of chains unlocking echoed through the cold chamber, followed by a loud thud as Torin’s body sagged and collapsed onto the hard ground.
Uncle Derek took Torin by one shoulder, and my father supported him by the other, their faces set in grim lines.
An icy chill swept through the room at that moment, and the vampire Queen entered.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Her long, wavy red hair fell over her shoulders in different directions and lengths, twisted and knotted. This time she wore brown pants and a black long-sleeved shirt soaked in what appeared to be blood, but she still exhibited an aura of grace.
In her hand, she held a long silver sword covered in blood.
Before she kicked the door closed with her booted leg, agonizing screams and howls and cries of pain filled the room. The door slammed behind her, cutting off the sounds of the war.
“Brendan, you can never defeat me. You wasted everyone’s life when you stupidly decided to come here,” she said, looking at my dad through narrow, vicious eyes.
Dad and Uncle Derek exchanged strange looks, and silent communication passed between them.
With a deep breath, Dad let go of Torin while my uncle fully supported him.
My father pulled his daggers from the sheath at his side.
His grip tightened around the hilt as he squared up against Victoria.
His knuckles whitened, and his eyes hardened into steel.
Dad lunged forward, his movements a blur of precision and deadly intent. Each swing was calculated.
I grew up watching Dad groan and grimace when he lifted his arm overhead to show me a fighting technique during our training. If I wanted to avoid running extra laps at the training grounds, I knew not to ask him if he was okay. He said it was enough that Mom nagged him to take breaks.
But the werewolf King before me was thirty years younger and hadn’t been hurt by Victoria.
Yet.
The Queen’s sword looked sharper, longer, and deadlier.
My heart raced as I watched Victoria’s graceful yet lethal movements. She wielded the silver sword with fast, precise moves, swift as a shadow. The clash of steel echoed through the room as the two supernaturals circled each other.
The vampire Queen disarmed my dad with a calculated strike, sending his daggers spinning. The echo of my heart hammering against my rib cage filled my ears as Dad’s weapons clattered to the floor.
Victoria’s crimson eyes glinted with icy satisfaction. She could have compelled Dad to give up. But she chose not to. She wanted to showcase her swordsmanship skills, excited by the thrill of the fight. Victoria wanted to show the werewolf King she was superior—that vampires were superior.
Having heard the story about this crazy woman and meeting her in Torin’s memories, I could tell she relished this dance of danger and power. She wanted more than just victory—she craved validation.
In one fluid motion, she closed the distance between them, her sword aimed toward the King and stabbed him in the shoulder. Then Victoria pulled her sword slowly out of his flesh. The tip of the blade dripped with my dad’s blood and liquid silver.
A pained roar erupted from Dad’s throat while Victoria’s lips lifted in a triumphant, evil smile. Although I knew the war’s outcome, and I knew Dad came back to the werewolf Kingdom permanently damaged but alive, the vampire Queen had the upper hand.
My body shook when she swung her sword as if to behead the werewolf King. The King staggered backward, his eyes reflecting agony and resilience. His gaze darted to his wide-eyed brother and Torin.
“Go fast and take him out of here,” were Dad’s last words before a commotion erupted at the door.
Several werewolf warriors rushed inside the room and surrounded Victoria before she could strike Dad. I let out a breath.
Sending Dad one last vicious glance, Victoria turned to face her new attackers and made an annoyed hiss.
Dad used the opportunity to join Uncle Derek in supporting Torin. The three of them stumbled on shaky legs toward the door while the Queen dealt with the werewolf warriors.
Dad, Uncle Derek, and Torin made it out of her bedchambers, but not before I saw Dad look over his shoulder at his warriors with so much regret and sadness. The three of them would safely leave the vampire castle. I knew that much. But the warriors in the chambers had a different fate.