Chapter 44
brYLEE
I can't get my mind to slow down, to process.
It just continues spinning and spinning with no end in sight, like a relentless carousel that never pauses to let me disembark.
Each thought collides with the next, creating a chaotic symphony of worries, plans, memories, and what-ifs that echo through the chambers of my consciousness.
What am I going to say when I confront my mom?
How will she respond?
Will she be angry? Upset? Dismissive?
My time with Luka had momentarily quelled the worst of these thoughts, but now? They rush back with the force of a tsunami, drowning me.
Eros Academy looms before me, its jagged silhouette cutting against the twilight sky like a set of broken teeth.
The architecture is an unsettling marriage of Gothic grandeur and brutalist concrete, where pointed spires of obsidian stone claw at the heavens while massive, windowless slabs create a foundation that seems to have been poured directly from the earth itself.
The main entrance is a cavernous maw of wrought iron and weathered oak, adorned with intricate carvings that depict scenes of passion and torment in equal measure, their forms twisted and distorted by centuries of wind and rain.
At one point, this school used to terrify me.
Now it just feels like…home.
It’s where I trained to become the best version of myself. Where I transformed from a dainty princess into a skilled fighter. Where I met my mates and fell in love.
The evening air is thick and heavy, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, with the metallic tang of impending rain. A storm is gathering on the horizon, bruised purple and angry orange, a perfect mirror for the tempest raging inside me.
I can feel my mates' presence like a second skin—Luka’s hand resting at the small of my back, Colter and Kylian flanking me like twin sentinels carved from shadow and defiance, and Ridge bringing up the rear, his gaze sweeping our surroundings with predatory intensity.
Their protective energy wraps around me, a cocoon of warmth and loyalty, but it does little to quell the fire that now burns in my veins.
The numbness that had initially consumed me after discovering my mother's treachery has been incinerated, leaving behind a white-hot anger that propels me forward with every heartbeat.
A single glass vial presses against my ribs inside my jacket, its coolness a stark contrast to the heat of my body. The weight of it is immense, heavier than any crown.
The cure.
The goddamn cure for karkinos.
After all this time.
My brother will be cured. That knowledge is the only anchor in this storm of betrayal, the single point of light in the suffocating darkness that barrages me from every direction.
Doctor Tamara already departed with a second vial, her expression a mixture of hope and grim determination as she secured the precious cargo in a refrigerated container.
“We can replicate this, Your Highness,” she’d told me, her eyes glimmering with something akin to avarice.
I’d wondered then if it was the best idea to entrust her with the cure. She’d seemed too…eager. Greedy.
Trusting her with the cure felt oddly like handing a loaded weapon to a mercenary.
“She'll be remembered as the scientist who cured one of the deadliest diseases in our country,” Luka had explained, when I’d voiced my doubts. “Her motives may not be entirely altruistic, but she’ll get it done.”
I just pray he’s right.
Now we stand in front of Eros Academy, where we plan to debrief with a few important generals before meeting my mother at the castle.
Who here knows about the Harpax virus?
Who here was involved?
My guys promise me they’re not going to confront anyone just yet. But, for appearance’s sake, they need to check in with their superiors and regroup. After all, it’s unlike them to leave an active assignment without just cause.
“Brylee!” The voice cuts through the evening air like a shard of glass.
Brock.
I’m not surprised to see him. According to my mates, Brock and his pack have taken over some of the classes my guys had abandoned when they were pulled to the front line. He probably heard rumblings that we’ve returned.
I wonder if he’s confused by my appearance. After all, “Teddie” went to the front lines, not me. But since it was only me and my pack in the car, I’d chosen to change out of the bodysuit and into my normal clothes. I don’t give a shit if people suspect something.
I’m done hiding.
Done pretending.
Done lying.
He jogs toward us, his movements fluid and confident despite the exhaustion etched around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He looks thinner than I remember, the renewed intensity of the war carving lines onto his face that weren't there before.
My mates stiffen instantly. Luka’s hand tightens on my back, his fingers pressing into my flesh as if to physically hold me in place.
Colter takes a half step forward, his body coiling like a spring, while Ridge's jaw clenches, his eyes turning a dangerous shade of aquamarine.
Kylian emits a low growl that vibrates through the ground and up my legs, a clear warning that ripples through the air between us.
Is he…?
Is he reaching for his dagger?
“Easy,” I murmur, placing a calming hand on Kylian's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. “He's helping us, you freaking psychopath.”
Their possessiveness is a familiar comfort, a fortress built around me, but right now it's an obstacle. I need answers, and Brock is the one who has them.
Brock slows his approach as he registers the hostile reception, his gaze flicking between my mates—a quick calculation of threats—before settling on me. There's something in his eyes, a mix of urgency and apprehension that sets my teeth on edge.
“I have an update about Sam,” he says in lieu of small talk.
The name hangs between us like poison, heavy and suffocating. Sam—my former friend, the one who had sold me out to our enemies like a piece of meat at market. The memory of his betrayal still tastes like ash in my mouth, bitter and acrid.
“What did you find?” My voice is colder than I intended it to be.
I can feel the shift in my mates' stances, their muscles tensing. I know none of them had given up looking for the traitorous beta, but I’m also well aware they had more important things to deal with.
Like…
Being sent to the front lines by my mother and discovering there’s a virus turning alphas feral.
Yeah. Things like that.
Brock runs a hand through his dark hair, dislodging a few floppy strands.
“My pack tracked him to an abandoned hotel near the border. The place has been empty since the war started—windows shattered, doors hanging off hinges, that sort of thing.” He pauses, and his gaze drops to the ground as if he can't bear to meet my eyes. “He was dead when we arrived. Suicide.”
The word hits me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I should feel relief—justice for his betrayal, a small victory in a war that has cost me so damn much.
Instead, a cavernous ache spreads through my chest. Sam, who had helped me be both Brylee and Teddie without complaint, his laugh quick and easy. Sam, who trained with me, a perpetual grin affixed on his face.
Sam, who had looked me in the eye while arranging my capture, his expression blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
Logically, I know that there are varying facets to every aspect of nature, and human nature is no different. There’s good and bad in everybody. Nobody is inherently one way or the other.
Sam was my friend.
But he also was my enemy.
Now? He’s…dead.
Dead.
I don’t know how to feel about it.
“How?” The question escapes my lips before I can stop it, my voice barely a whisper.
“Hanging.” Brock's voice is flat, devoid of emotion, but his eyes tell a different story—a flicker of something that looks suspiciously like pity. “In one of the hotel rooms. Looked like he'd been there a couple of days.”
My mates exchange glances, their protective instincts warring with their understanding of my complicated history with Sam.
Luka’s thumb traces circles against my back, a silent offering of comfort that does little to soothe the turmoil inside me.
I can feel their questions, their concern, but they're distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears, the sluicing of blood that drowns out all else.
Sam’s…dead.
He’s actually dead.
I don’t know what I expected when I sent Brock on this mission, but it wasn’t… Fuck. It wasn’t this.
I wanted to see Sam with my own two eyes. Confront him. Demand answers. Ask him how he could betray me and if it was worth it.
Did he do it for money?
Fame?
Something else?
Will I ever know the truth behind his intentions?
Were we ever truly friends, or was it always a lie?
“Anything else?” I force the words out, my throat tight and constricted.
Brock reaches into his jacket and withdraws a folded piece of paper, the edges yellowed and worn, as if it had been handled countless times.
“He left a note. Addressed to someone named Karen. His sister, I believe.” He extends it toward me, his fingers brushing mine as I take it.
The paper feels impossibly heavy in my hand, weighted with words I'm not sure I'm ready to read, each crease a potential knife wound to the heart.
Then his words register.
My stomach bottoms out as a frigid jolt of fear hits me. I feel as if I’m standing on the icy surface of a lake that’s crackling and shattering beneath my feet, drawing me into its glacial depths. A corrosive combination of emotions I can’t quite articulate shoots through me, quickening my pulse.
“Karen?” I don’t recognize my voice.
“With a C,” Brock confirms.
No. No. No. No.
Hurt, shock, anger—it all battles inside of me. Outrage wins, crystallizing in my blood, causing my hands to shake where they grip the edges of the paper.
“Brylee?” Luka's voice is laced with concern, his deep baritone cutting through the fog in my mind. “What's wrong?”
I don't answer. I scan the hastily scrawled words, each line a fresh wound, each sentence a twist of the knife:
Dear Caran,
By the time you read this, I'll be gone.
I can't live with what I've done. I told myself it was for you, for your happiness, but I was lying.
I was scared, and I chose the easy path.
Brylee never deserved what I did to her.
She was always stronger than me, always better.
Tell her I'm sorry—not that she'll care. Tell her I was weak.
I hope you're happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. And T… I know T is what makes you happy. This will be the last time I’ll be able to get you medicine. I can’t do it again. I won’t.
I’m so sorry.
Please forgive me.
Your brother,
Sam
The world tilts on its axis, the ground shifting beneath my feet.
It can’t be a coincidence.
Sam…is Caran’s brother.
And his supplier.
God.
This entire time…
What the fuck was Caran thinking? How could he do this to me? He had to have known that Teddie would never approve of him and his brother selling us out to our enemies.
He was so desperate that he didn’t care what the price was…even if the price was me.
Did he know? Did Caran know this entire time?
Red-hot tears well in my eyes as memories float into my head of sitting at their dinner table, laughing, joking, teasing Caran about his apron.
Was all of that a lie?
Dismay and hurt transmute into fury. The anger inside me crystallizes into something sharper, deadlier—a blade honed by betrayal and fueled by a need for vengeance that threatens to consume me whole.
How could you, Caran?
How could you?
“Brylee?” Kylian's voice breaks through the haze, his hand tightening on my arm as if to pull me back from the edge. “What does it say? Who do I have to stab?”
“I…I need to talk to my brother.” The words stumble out of my mouth, clumsy and inadequate. I turn away from them all, the note clutched in my hand like a weapon, the paper crinkling under the force of my grip. “I need to find Teddie.”
Without waiting for a response, I stride in the direction of our jeep, each step a declaration of war.
The note feels like a brand against my skin, a constant reminder of the web of deceit I now find myself in.
I don’t even know who my anger is directed at.
My mother?
Caran?
I’ll confront them both, I’ll strip away their masks, and I’ll make them answer for every life they’ve destroyed.
The storm inside me has found its purpose, and it won’t be contained.