Chapter 203

Chapter 203
Deric

The morning air was too dry, too cold, yet somehow it felt like it wasn’t cold enough. I couldn’t shake the heat of everything that had happened, the revelations climbing at my chest. Elvira. My sister. The words echoed in my head as if they didn’t belong, as if some part of me would reject them outright, but the truth was stubborn. It was real. She was mine, in a way I had never allowed myself to understand before, and the weight of that was pressing me down like a tide I couldn’t fight.

I paced the floor of my room in the Morrien tower, the creak of the old wood beneath my boots louder than it should have been. Light streamed through the narrow windows, slanting across my fists, knuckles white as I clenched them. I’d seen her yesterday and it had been a mixture of shock, fear, and something softer—relief, maybe. Relief that the truth was out, though I knew it would rip through both our lives in ways we couldn’t yet anticipate.

I remembered the old fights, the times I had been impatient with her, dismissed and broke our bond, mocked her stubborn streak. All of it now felt like tiny cuts I had ignored, only to realize they were part of a deeper wound I hadn’t even known existed. How could I have missed this? How could I have let us drift into this strange battlefield of rivalry and resentment, only to find out we were siblings?

The thought of protecting her consumed me. Not just because she was my sister, but because I knew the world wasn’t kind, and neither were the enemies that still lingered in the shadows. I could feel their eyes on her, even when they weren’t. Felen, Bloodmoon remnants, opportunists within our own pack who would use any weakness. And I had promised myself I wouldn’t fail her again, not now.

I moved toward the armory, checking my weapons almost absentmindedly, my fingers brushing over polished steel and the cold leather of my knives. The familiar scent of metal and oil was grounding, anchoring me as I plotted. My mind settled on Carlton first. Old loyalties, old grudges,he had a history with me that had always been tense, and now, more than ever, I needed to ensure he knew the new rules. That anyone threatening Elvira would answer me. I dressed quickly and drove to Carlton’s estate, not caring if Ava saw me or not.

..

I found him leaning against a wall in the courtyard, arms crossed, smirk on his face. “Deric,” he said smoothly, voice rich with amusement. “I didn’t expect to see you out of your room this early. Let me guess, dreaming about reunions?”

I didn’t smile. “Cut the games, Carlton. We need to talk.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Oh? About what? Your newfound maternal instincts?”

“About boundaries,” I said, stepping closer. “About knowing exactly who answers to who in this city. Elvira is my sister. That changes everything. If anyone lays a hand on her—anyone—you answer to me.”

For a moment, his amusement faltered, a flicker of unease in the eyes I had always watched like a hawk. He straightened. “And what exactly do you think that makes you? You’ve grown quite some nerve for someone who betrayed and sold his pack for love.”

“That’s not my question,” I said, voice low, calm, but carrying an edge sharper than any blade in the room. “Do you understand me?”

Carlton’s eyes met mine for a long moment, and then he gave a short, curt nod. “Crystal.”

I let him stew a little longer, letting the silence hammer at him. I could almost smell the fear beneath his bravado. 

After I left him, I drove back to the tower grounds. The wind pulled my hair, sharp and cold, carrying the scent of asphalt. I thought of her, Elvira, moving through the world with that stubborn grace, unaware of just how fiercely I would protect her. She had a sharp mind, a quick tongue, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when her vulnerability shone through. And I could feel it now, stronger than ever: she needed protection, guidance, and loyalty, and I was ready to be all of that.

By afternoon, I returned to the heart of the tower, silent and watchful. I stayed on the edges of rooms, watching, listening, ensuring her safety from a distance. Jaxon was there, naturally protective, but I kept my presence subtle, a shadow blending with the walls. My gaze caught hers briefly. There was no fear, no accusation, only a flicker of acknowledgment. I nodded once.

That evening, I went over strategies again. Felen’s reach still lingered in the whispers of the city, in the remnants of Bloodmoon loyalists scattered across territories. I traced maps of the pack’s borders, noting choke points, patrols, and safe routes. Every detail mattered. Every observation was a piece of the puzzle I had to control. I felt the familiar burn of responsibility in my veins. I could never be careless again.

And yet, it wasn’t just the external threats. It was the internal one too, our past. I had to confront it, face it, and ensure it wouldn’t poison what was developing now. Elvira’s trust wasn’t automatic. It would take patience, understanding, and relentless vigilance. But I could do that. I would do that.

Later, I found myself on the balcony of my quarters, leaning against the stone railing. The sunset bathed the tower in molten gold and crimson, light flickering across the landscape of the pack grounds. I could see the members training, families moving through the grounds, the ordinary rhythm of life carrying on, oblivious to the war I'm battling with..

I thought of Elvira again, of Jaxon, of the delicate threads of loyalty, love, and duty binding us all. I allowed myself a rare moment of reflection. I would not fail her. I would not fail myself. The past had shaped me, twisted me, hardened me, but it had also taught me. It had forged a resolve that now burned like wildfire.

As darkness fell, the first stars appearing in the night sky, I made my way to her chambers. Not to confront, not to interfere—but to watch, to ensure she was safe. She was there, quiet, sitting by the window, the moonlight brushing her hair like silver threads. She looked up briefly as I passed, and I could see it, the understanding, the fragile trust beginning to take root.

“I’m here,” I said softly, just enough for her to hear.

She nodded once, and returned to the window, eyes distant, thoughtful. That was enough. For now.

I retreated to my own room, the sounds of the pack fading beneath the tower’s stones. Sleep was impossible—not yet. My mind was alive with plans, with contingencies, with the faint, pressing weight of everything to come. But for the first time in a long while, I felt certain about one thing: whatever threats rose, whatever challenges came, I would stand between them and her. I would fight, I would strategize, I would endure.

Family was not always easy. Blood could be complicated. Trust was earned, wounds were old, and history was tangled. But resolve, true resolve, was simpler. And I had it.

Tomorrow, I would confront more than just old enemies. I would confront every shadow that lingered, every whisper that threatened her peace. And I would be ready. Because she was mine. Because I was hers. And nothing, not the past, not enemies, not even ourselves, would change that.

For now, though, I allowed myself to simply exist in that resolve, the night sky pressing over the tower, the faint rustle of leaves reminding me that life continued even when the world wanted to fall apart. I closed my eyes, feeling the faintest whisper of calm. A brother’s promise. A brother’s resolve. And for the first time, it felt like enough.