Chapter 104 The shadow of a better son
ZEUS
The moment I step into the Haven, I already know he’s waiting.
The rain has soaked me through. My hair clings to my forehead. My boots leave a trail of dirty water on the marble floors, and my clothes reek of frustration and blood and bad decisions.
I don’t even get past the damn foyer.
“Another mess, Zeus?” comes the voice I’ve been preparing myself for since the moment Crimson Ridge went sideways.
I close my eyes. Just for a second. I turn slowly toward the base of the stairs.
My father stands tall, arms crossed, face carved in that eternal mask of calm disappointment. The firelight gilds his features like he’s some kind of statue in a temple built to himself.
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
“No report. No heads-up. Nothing. I had to hear about it from a Gamma with half his jaw broken.”
I keep my voice flat. “I handled it.”
“You didn’t handle anything. The Crimson Ridge Alpha had to be restrained by his own mate, and you,” he steps forward, voice growing louder, “you gave the Beta direct orders that undermined his Alpha. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking it would stabilize the unrest in the East Wing.”
“You were thinking?” he repeats, incredulous. “You don’t think. You follow. Orders. Structure. Protocol. How hard is that?”
My throat tightens, but I keep my tone calm. “If you wanted a puppet, you should’ve sent Kelvin.”
My father’s face hardens. “Don’t bring your brother into this.”
“What, like how you bring Darian into every single conversation we have?”
That catches him off guard, but just for a second. Then he straightens, like I just confirmed his greatest fear.
“Darian never questioned me. Darian understood that leadership isn’t about instincts or flair or ego. It’s about control. Discipline. Duty.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Discipline? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
His jaw clenches. “You’re spiraling, Zeus.”
“And you’re predictable,” I snap. “Always falling back on Darian this and Darian that. You talk about control, but you're the one who's clinging to a ghost.”
He takes a step down the stairs, his eyes darkening. “Darian isn’t a ghost. He’s the only reason this kingdom hasn’t collapsed beneath the weight of your recklessness.”
I exhale slowly. “If you miss him that much, why don’t you call him back?”
Lucien narrows his eyes at me. “Maybe I will.”
There it is.
He descends the last step, stopping right in front of me. “Because if I keep sending you on these errands, you’ll ruin everything Darian and I built.”
The words land like a slap.
I hold his gaze, but inside, something twists hard. Rage. Hurt. The same cocktail I’ve been drinking since I was old enough to realize I was just a shadow cast by my older brother.
“Everything you and Darian built,” I echo. “Right. Because clearly, I’ve never been more than a placeholder. A name on the roster. A spare.”
“Don’t act like I haven’t given you chances.”
“Chances?” I bark out a laugh. “You don’t give chances. You give comparisons. ‘Darian wouldn’t have done this. Darian would've handled that better. Darian never failed me.’ You don’t want a son. You want a duplicate.”
“Darian was meant to be king,” he says, quietly now. Deadly. “You were meant to follow him.”
“And when he walked away?” I say, stepping closer. “When your perfect heir broke ranks for a girl and ran off to play house with a ticking prophecy? Who was here then? Me.”
He looks at me, and in his silence, I see it. The truth. The one he’ll never say out loud:
It should’ve been someone else. Anyone but you.
I let out a bitter breath. “But it’s never been enough, has it?”
“Because you don’t make it enough,” he snaps. “You think you can lead by force and attitude and impulsive decisions, but leadership isn’t forged in tantrums. It’s forged in fire. And your fire, Zeus, your fire burns everything it touches.”
I want to punch something.
“I’ve been holding this place together with my bare hands while your favorite hides behind a girl with glowing eyes and a death sentence. And you’re standing here, talking to me about tantrums?”
His voice drops to a whisper. “At least when Darian defied me, he did it for love. What’s your excuse?”
That silences me.
Not because I don’t have a response.
Because I do.
But it’s ugly. It’s desperate. And I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing just how deeply the truth cuts.
Instead, I turn on my heel and walk.
“Zeus!”
“Go to hell,” I mutter under my breath.
I don’t even stop when I hear him calling my name again.
I don’t stop. I don’t even breathe until I’m halfway down the corridor. My pulse is pounding in my ears. I want to shift. I want to tear the walls down. I want to disappear into the forest and never come back.
And then, a guard rounds the corner. He’s young and clumsy and definitely moving too fast.
He bumps into me.
“Watch it,” I growl, grabbing his shoulder.
“I…I’m sorry, prince Zeus…”
Stupid.
Without thinking, I slap him across the face. The sound is crisp, violent, satisfying. He stumbles back, and I slam a boot into his stomach before he hits the ground.
He gasps, curls inward like a kicked dog.
I stand over him, chest heaving.
“Get out of my sight,” I snarl.
He scrambles away, clutching his ribs.
I don’t care.
I don’t care.
I stalk down the hall, fists clenched, jaw locked so tight it aches. The moment I reach my bedroom, I throw the door open and slam it shut behind me.
Silence.
Just the sound of rain tapping at the windows and the storm raging inside me.
I tear my soaked shirt off and toss it on the floor, pacing like a caged beast. The fire in the hearth is low. The room feels too quiet. Too still. Like it’s waiting for something.
I stop in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection.
Dripping hair. Blood on my knuckles. Rage in my eyes.
I look like a prince of nothing.
“They all want him back,” I whisper.
Darian.
Darian, who could do no wrong. Who held this kingdom in his bare hands without ever flinching. Who never got his boots dirty.
They want him to come back. Take over. Fix everything.
Even now, even now with a mark, a girl in his heart, and a prophecy hanging over his head like a sword, he still wins.
I drag my fingers through my hair, chest burning. He walked away from all of this. And still, he owns it.
I’m the one left behind. Cleaning up his messes. Drowning in expectations he set so high no one else can touch them.
And what do I get?
A father who sees through me like I’m not even there.
A kingdom that barely knows my name.
A mirror that won’t lie to me.
“You’re not him,” I tell my reflection. My voice is low. Steady.
But I’m still here.
I’m not done yet, and most importantly, I’ll definitely be taking that crown.