Chapter 36
Kai
SHUT THIS PARTY DOWN
As we approach the manor, the music grows louder.
Pounding, messy, and utterly alive. Vi starts to pick up on it; I can tell by the way she glances at me.
The party is already in full swing. People crowd the yard, drinks in hand, bodies moving to the pulse of a rock symphony as if church and chaos mingled.
“I’m going to kill Wyll,” I mutter.
Speaking of the devil, Wyll strides toward us with that infuriating grin, making his canines glint and two beers in hand as if he’s handing out a gift basket.
“There you go, Corporal. Lyna, anything I can get you?” I grab the bottle from him, harder than necessary.
The cold hits my palm, grounding me for a second, just a second.
Because the moment after that, I realize where we are and what’s expected of me—Corporal.
And what a soldier I am, not even able to follow basic rules, the reason I failed him, Sammy.
The guilt slams into me like a sucker punch.
Tipping the bottle up, I chug it down, trying to drown the wreckage clawing its way up.
Feeling my armour bolting back into place, after all, bad habits die hard.
“She’s not staying,” I mutter.
Avilyna doesn’t even look at me. “And who the fuck are you to tell what I can or can’t do?” She snaps, hips swinging, and I watch her leave in fury, like the damn fool that I am.
And only once she’s out of my sight do I regain control of my movements. Quickly reaching the kitchen, it’s quieter. A small relief washes over me as I look for my old, reliable, dark and bitter solace. Two gulps in, the burn starts to cut through the noise, then I hear Wyll laugh.
“What’s funny?” I grit out.
“Well, it just… been a while since you gave a damn about anything, really.” That’s the one.
The sentence that tips the cup, making it overflow. I don’t answer, just down the rest, slamming the bottle on the counter, and walk out. If Lindir can tell that I am unfocused, it just shows how deep in shit I am.
I reach the heart of the commotion, the too-loud music, the night that doesn’t ask questions, just buzzes with unruled energy. I spot Caleb on the couch and drop beside him.
“You let him throw a party?” I ask, his left pointed ear slightly twitching. Caleb gives me a look. Heavy, weighted as if I should already know why, and I hate it.
“What day is it?”
“Fuck.” I mutter as it dawns on me.
“Yup, Freya’s birthday,” Caleb mutters, snagging the bottle from my hand.
Another thing I forgot.
“She’d be eighteen,” he adds after taking a swig and handing me the bottle back. I drink longer this time.
Wyll throws parties to forget. Loud, reckless, burning through distraction like it’ll erase what he lost. But me? I don’t—can’t forget. Because remembering every goddamn detail is the punishment I earned for not being able to save him.
“Hi!” Heather’s voice slices through my thoughts.
All sugary and bright, she drifts away from the piano, heading straight for me.
“Heather,” I mutter, the word dry in my mouth, empty.
She’s not who I want, not even close. But she’s easy, and loud enough to drown out the parts of me I am not allowed to feel.
Even if it makes my skin crawl, her perfume only adds to my disgust. So I drink, and through the corner of my eyes, I see her.
Vi walks in, commanding all my attention and clearly others.
I was so selfish earlier, and I can’t let that happen again.
She’s not safe with me; no one really is.
And I know exactly what to do to undo anything that was worth something.
Heather catches my gaze and does the rest for me.
She throws a sharp look at Avilyna, making me grind my teeth.
Hips swinging with practiced ease, then she turns back to me.
Her lips come dangerously closer to mine.
But I just have time to see something flickering in Vi’s eyes.
Something that looks a lot like hurt guts me, pulling at a string in my chest.
The moment is ripped away when Heather reappears.
Quickly turning my head away, enough for her lips to land on my cheek, her body blocking the room from view.
It takes everything in me not to pull away or show my discomfort; her touch crawls across my skin like millions of insects.
Unwelcome, unsettling, it is so jarring, so foreign, I push it out of my mind.
Swallowing more liquor and ignoring the discomfort.
My face stays unreadable, just as always.
Letting the world believe I don’t feel a thing.
Vi’s already gone, my job is done, and I shove Heather off.
And I leave the room without a word on the echoes of her complaints.
Walking towards the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Avilyna running up the stairs with her bag in hand, Nalaka on her toes.
The guilt eases, just a little, knowing someone’s there for her. Even if it kills me, that it isn’t me.
It can’t be.
I step into the earth of the house, and a blur of pink hair slams into my shoulder, Sakura. She stumbles back, wide-eyed. The usual aloofness is gone, and there’s a flicker of something behind her eyes, something darker, sadder, and closer to fear.
“You good?” I ask, though I half expect her to answer with something that doesn’t make sense. Sakura tilts her head, eyes unfocused, as if listening to something only she can hear. Her gaze drifts past me, over my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she says, voice soft, almost musical. “But the energy tonight... It’s off. Like walking through thunderclouds with your skin peeled open.” The words send a chill down my spine.
Before I can say anything, a low, ugly laugh cuts through the air. From the corner, a pack of guys, snickers like jackals, and I recognize them. Especially the one-handed, and he’s still breathing.
“I see you haven’t learned a thing,” I say, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. “Eager to lose the other, too?” Michael stiffens when he sees me, eyes wide.
“This is none of your business, Brackwell.”
I chuckle, low and bitter. “That’s rich, you’re in my house.
” I don’t give him a chance to explain; I’m not here for a conversation, just looking for something to hit.
A way to burn off this damn frustration.
One swing of the bottle, and he crashes into the countertop, out cold before he hits the floor.
Then a punch lands hard across my face. I stagger back, head snapping to the side, blood coating my teeth, and I grin.
Pain’s just another way to feel alive. I drive my skull into the elf’s nose, feeling it crunch beneath the impact.
Staggering back, Liam leaves an opening for the third one to be on my radar.
He blinks, realizing too late he’s alone, and I slam my boot into his groin. He folds like a deck of cards.
“Too easy,” I mutter, brushing blood from my mouth. I head to the cupboard, slamming the door open, but my hand only finds a bottle of faerie wine.
“Where the hell is my fire whiskey?”
“Our. Fire. Whiskey,” Wyll deadpans, walking in. He punches the second guy, who started to regain consciousness.
“You left them right within arm’s reach, rookie mistake.”
“What did you do with them?”
“Had to get the party started. Besides, wine’s not exactly a lycan’s drink.” Wyll ruffles my hair, and I punch him in the stomach.
“Don’t.”
“Damn, someone’s moody.” He wheezes a little, then grins. “Thought you’d be in better spirits after some time with your girl.” Wyll winks on the last word.
I stay silent and take a hefty gulp, almost coughing on the sweetness.
Wyll watches me. “Didn’t go how you wanted, huh?”
“Nothing ever does.”
He nods. “Right on, Corporal.”
“Shut this party down.”
“One more hour—”
“Shut. It. Down.” He groans, throwing his hands up like a toddler denied dessert.
“Fine. But you owe me pie!” Wyll stomps off, all drama, pulling at a small smile on the corner of my lips, dumbass.
Fuck, I need to stop drowning everything in alcohol.
Maybe just stick to weed from now on. That thought barely settles before a fresh pulse of pain slams behind my eyes.
My head’s pounding, and I can’t focus on a single goddamn word coming out of the General’s mouth.
The only thing keeping me tethered is the sharp burn of his stare, daggers cutting across the room.
He’s disappointed, and worse, he wants me to know it.
Good.
Let him despise me, not like that’s anything new. Anger’s the only thing that still makes me feel alive. And right now?
I could drink that rage like water.
“We’re doubling the patrols,” he announces, voice cold and commanding. “Those who’ve done some mundane missions already saw the urgency firsthand. Netherworld is moving.”
A ripple of whispers cuts through the rows, static on a radio.
“Silence,” the General snaps. “We’re out of time. Training is condensed and effective immediately. Graduation from the Institute will now take one and a half years, not three. Those with one year left will graduate after Grianstad. You’ll report to duty coming back from the solstice break.”
The seriousness of the situation hangs heavy in the room. The assembly ripples with stunned and disbelieving whispers. That’s why he pushed me toward the alpha’s daughter of Elveron. I thought I had until spring to figure things out. But now… We’re graduating this winter.
The General wants confirmed allies before the war truly begins.
Another reason to keep Avilyna as far from me as possible.
Because my father will never stop using me as a pawn in his twisted games to show everyone the great alpha he is.
There’s nothing, no one, he won’t sacrifice for that title.
I used to resist him, to think I could revolt against him, be my own person. But the last time I did?
Sammy died.