Chapter 34 Home Bitter Home
Home Bitter Home
Ronan
Ipulled up outside the wrought iron gate, two uniformed guards walking up to my car, manufactured snarls on their faces to add to their intimidating presence.
“You’ve got the wrong address,” one of them started, and I rolled my eyes.
“Quit the crap, Baal. Just open the gate.”
He leaned down further and squinted as he took me in, the scowl turning into a shit-eating grin. “Well damn, Ronan. I hardly recognized you with the beard.”
It suits you… you should keep yours.
I was never getting rid of this thing.
“Fuck, how you been, man?” asked Amon, leaning in from the other side. “When was the last time I saw you, eight years ago?”
I gritted my teeth, cracking my neck. These guys were alright, but I was in no mood to catch up on old times.
“Ten. And look, you both know I’m not really here because I want to be. Can you just let me in already?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing. But if you’re sticking around, we still do poker once a week. Feel free to swing by.”
I gave a terse nod, knowing full well I wouldn’t be taking that invitation. How could I sit around and play poker while my mate was…
The gate opened, and I rolled up my window before they could hear the growl building in my chest at the thought of that vampire fuck laying a finger on Sage.
It had already been a day since I’d left her, and not knowing what kind of kraken shit hoops my dad was going to make me jump through to get his help was already bringing my fire close to my skin, smoke filling the car.
The driveway curved upward through carefully manicured grounds as the sprawling estate came into view. Its pale walls were smooth and unadorned, while wide arches framed shaded walkways and layered roof lines cast long, angular shadows across the courtyard.
The whole place felt insulated from the chaos of Ignareth below. No neon, no noise—just heat, silence, and the low hum of power woven into every beam and brick.
I parked where I always used to, just short of the main entrance, taking a deep breath and looking around outside my window.
Guys were everywhere. Some leaned against columns or railings, while others sprawled on steps or low walls in track suits, ink crawling up necks and arms in patterns that marked rank, allegiance, battle wins and losses, or old sins.
A few glanced up openly, while others kept their gazes low, like they didn’t know me.
I stepped out of the car, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.
“Well, I’ll be fucked,” someone muttered nearby. “Didn’t think you had the balls to come back.”
My eyes darted to his mangled hands. “At least I still got all my fingers,” I sneered back, ignoring the chuckles as I started toward the entrance.
Inside, the air dropped several degrees, cool and heavy with incense and vaporleaf smoke.
The entryway opened into a broad interior courtyard, stone floors polished to a dull sheen.
A narrow pool ran through the center, dark water broken only by slow-moving fish that flickered beneath the surface like living beams of sunlight.
At the far end, a pair of heavy doors waited, dark wood etched with stylized demons of old in battle, great horns spiraling from their heads and tusks jutting out from their bottom lips.
I rubbed my jaw. Thank Ravaric we’d lost those things eons ago.
Two guards flanked the entrance, unmoving, until one reached for the handle.
“Don’t bother announcing me,” I said.
The doors slid open, revealing an office that was all sharp lines and controlled excess.
Stone and wood, with calligraphy scrolls hanging from the walls beside modern art that had probably cost more than most city blocks.
A wide desk dominated the space, and my father stood behind it, immaculate as ever.
His suit was perfectly tailored, his horns shined smooth and gleaming under the soft light.
Gold rings adorned his fingers, and his black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place.
He smiled, his lips thin as his eyes slid over me.
“Well,” he said mildly. “Look what the werewolf dragged in.”
I stepped fully into the room as the doors closed behind me.
“He was actually trying to drag me away,” I replied, my racing heart blowing my cool cover. This man still terrified me.
His expression blanked, the muscle feathering in his jaw the only physical proof of his displeasure. “Now, now, son. I believe you came here to ask me for a favor. But before we talk business, pay your respects to your mother.”
The altar stretched from the floor to the ceiling, resting in a specially built alcove on the side wall. Made of shiny, black lacquered wood and trimmed with gold, a framed picture of my late mother rested before a statue of Ravaric alongside a bowl of her favorite food, fresh cherries.
I took a stick of incense out and lit it with my finger, placing it in a bowl of dense sand and ash from past offerings before bowing my hand and clasping my hands together, giving her a silent greeting.
Sorry it’s been so long, I said in my head. But you know how dad is.
Smoke curled affectionately around my horns, my heart aching for the maternal love I’d been robbed of due to this cursed family’s “business.”
My mom had died in a car bomb meant for my father when I was only ten years old, and he’d used the incident to launch a war against the Kelraths, destroying them completely and taking over all of their territory in Ignareth in retaliation.
Part of me always wondered if my dad had some hand in it. He’d had his eye on the casinos run by the rival family since before I’d been born.
I rose, then walked back to the desk, waiting for him to tell me to sit. He was right about one thing—it wouldn’t do me any favors to antagonize him.
He waited a bit before nodding, and we both took our seats. The leather of his chair squeaked as he leaned forward, the look in his eye not unlike a cat’s when it finally has a mouse right where it wants it. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he licked his lips.
“So,” he started. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Like he didn’t already know. I had no doubt in my mind that he’d been keeping careful tabs of me over the years, but I bit back the sarcastic retort that waited on my tongue. “Bounty hunting.”
He scoffed, sitting back. “Bounty hunting? That’s beneath you.”
I gave a little shrug. “It’s a tough world out there for demons. Plus, it turns out I’m really good at it.”
“Of course you’re good at it,” he spat, a piece of his hair falling out of place across his forehead as he pointed his finger at me.
“I trained you myself. But if you think that means I’d be proud of what little you’ve accomplished in the past ten years, you’d be dead wrong.
What, some tiny, fixer-upper in Cindralis of all places, a car only douchebags drive, and no family to show for your disobedience? For your stupid little rebellion?”
The anger inside me simmered again. He must have been trying to goad me into a fight, and I wasn’t going to take the bait. I needed to steer this conversation back to the point. “Well, that’s kind of why I’m here, right? My mate?”
He closed his eyes, his own frustration with me building as he sighed. I may have been his son, the one he’d molded to follow in his footsteps, but we couldn’t have been more different, and we’d spent the better part of my life—before I’d left, anyway—constantly at each other’s throats.
I’d taken after my mom’s gentler personality, much to his huge disappointment. We’d been like two peas in a pod, reading books together, tending her garden, and just enjoying the quiet pleasures in life.
Until she’d died.
“Yes,” he responded coolly, fixing his hair. “Your mate. You said Corvane has her. Please elaborate.”
“He said he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“I don’t count as a disturbance, ass hat.”
My dad sighed again at the sound of the muffled argument outside, rubbing his forehead and pressing the button on his desk to unlock the doors.
They slid open, and an omega demon woman walked in, her long, black hair streaked with red to match her lipstick and the stripes on her horns.
Her golden eyes narrowed on me in anger. “You!” she hissed.
I rose just as she stomped over, punching me in the gut and then pulling me into a hug as I doubled over.
“You Ravaric-damned jerk,” she said, her voice wobbly. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Not here, obviously,” I wheezed, and she sniffled a laugh.
“Maia, do you mind? We’re in the middle of an important discussion.”
My younger sister stilled, then backed up. “Yeah, one that concerns the family, right? And I just happen to be…”
She twirled her hand, her eyes wide as she waited for him to break.
“… Family,” he finally replied.
“Exactly. So it stands to reason that I should be here, too. Please continue.”
We sat back down, and I dove right in, telling them all about the job the Premier had hired me to do, how Sage’s scent and picture had affected me from the beginning, and that it wasn’t until I’d smelled her perfume without the charm that I recognized who she was.
But by then, Victor had claimed she was his, and there was nothing I could do.
My dad listened to the whole story with his eyes closed and arms crossed, grunting and nodding his head along occasionally.
“But how can he think she’s his mate?” Maia asked from beside me.
I told them my theory, the one I’d come up with at the bar with Garrick. Only unlike my werewolf handler, neither of them thought it sounded so far fetched.
“The bond Corvane’s claiming has got to be fucked up if she ran,” Maia said. “So whether it’s the heart or something else, you’re right—they aren’t true mates.”
“You may be a disappointment, but I don’t think you’re stupid enough to mistake something like this,” my dad added.
I couldn’t keep the sneer off my face. “Gee, thanks.”