Chapter 40: Chapter Forty
Chapter 40
Edgar’s POV
The walls of the manor pressed in around me, thick with silence and the scent of old stone and smoke. My body was failing, my wolf silent, my vision blurred, and my strength dripping away like blood from an open wound. Every breath burned. Every step felt heavier than the last. I was dying, and the Pack knew it.
And still… she hadn't come.
I had refused to summon her before, but desperation claws deeper than pride. So I sat now at the edge of my bed, cloaked in shadows, waiting.
The door creaked open slowly.
Brie Nolan entered, wrapped in a midnight cloak, her silver hair gleaming in the candlelight like threads of frost. Her expression was unreadable, neither triumph nor regret lived on her face. Only calculation.
“You look terrible,” she said flatly.
“I know.”
She walked to the hearth, poured herself a drink, and sat opposite me without invitation. “So. You’ve finally called for me. What do you want?”
“I want the curse removed.”
She sipped slowly, eyes fixed on the fire. “Of course you do. But curses aren’t undone with wishes, Edgar.”
“I’m not asking for mercy,” I said hoarsely. “I’m offering a deal.”
That got her attention. Her gaze shifted to me, sharp and assessing. “You’re offering me something… in exchange for your life?”
“Yes. I’ll step down as Alpha if you lift the curse.”
Silence fell again.
She stood and paced slowly, fingers brushing over the bookshelves, the furniture, the mantle, like a queen inspecting a kingdom she believed was still hers. “And who takes your place?”
“The Pack will decide.”
“No,” she said instantly, turning on me. “I choose. The Pack would never vote for who should lead. They’ll choose who they like. And we’ve seen how well that worked last time.”
I stared at her. “So this is about control.”
“This is about survival,” she said sharply. “The Ironclad clan is teetering on collapse. Connor might be dead, but the frostwood remnants are still out there. Alliances are forming. Lia’s moonbound army stirs resentment. You may have mated with her, but she is not the salvation of this Pack.”
“She saved my life more times than you ever have.”
“And look where it brought you. Weak. Blind. Broken.” Her voice was like a dagger cloaked in silk. “You let love ruin your judgment. You let it unravel everything we built.”
“You mean everything you built on blood and manipulation.”
She ignored the barb. “Here’s my condition: you step down as Alpha. I will name the next one.”
“And who would that be?”
“I have a few in mind. Ones loyal to the old ways. Ones who won’t let a tribrid witch rule this Pack from the shadows.”
“She’s not a witch,” I growled. “She’s stronger than any wolf I’ve ever known. Stronger than you. Stronger than me.”
“Then let her fight me for it.”
I rose, staggering on weak legs. “You think this is a game, don’t you? Even now. Even after what you did to me.”
Her expression didn’t flinch. “You stabbed me, Edgar.”
“You orchestrated Lia’s kidnapping. You cheated on my father. You brought a bastard son into this world who wanted her dead. You deserve worse than a blade.”
Her lips twitched. “And yet, here I am, still holding your leash. Still the only one who can undo what you’ve brought on yourself.”
I nearly lunged at her again, but my body betrayed me. A wave of nausea sent me to my knees.
She knelt beside me, not out of compassion but dominance. Her hand touched my jaw, and for a moment, I could feel the ancient pulse of her power beneath her skin.
“You want to live, Edgar?” she whispered. “Then make the deal. Renounce the title. Announce your successor, one I choose. Or die, and let the Pack crumble.”
I stared into her eyes. For all the poison in her soul, one thing was clear: she meant every word.
“I accept,” I said, barely able to breathe. “I’ll step down. But only after you lift the curse.”
A smile curled on her lips, small, satisfied, cold. “Done.”
She drew a small dagger from her cloak, one etched with ancient sigils. “This will hurt.”
“I’m already in pain.”
She sliced her palm and reached for mine. Blood met blood.
Her voice shifted, guttural, in a language older than the woods themselves. The air trembled. My body convulsed, the curse pulling taut like a thousand invisible threads, resisting her command.
Then it snapped.
I gasped, the breath returning to me in a rush. Sight sharpened. My wolf stirred in the depths of my chest, weak… but present.
The curse was gone.
She rose and stepped back. “Congratulations, Alpha.”
I looked up at her, rage still coiling inside me, but tempered now by something else.
“I lied.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I’m not stepping down.”
The temperature in the room plummeted.
“You what?” she hissed.
“I made a deal to save my life. Now that I’m breathing again, I’ll decide who leads this pack. And it sure as hell won’t be anyone you name.”
“You deceitful little”
I smiled, even as pain clawed at my ribs. “Like mother, like son.”
Her scream was inhuman.
Before she could strike, I called out, not to guards, not to elders, but to the Pack magic itself. The bond that still recognized me as Alpha.
The manor trembled.
She stumbled back, furious, powerless in the face of my rebirth.
“You’ll regret this,” she spat. “You will die, Edgar. If not by sickness, then by my hand.”
“You’ve already tried.”
And with that, she vanished into the shadows from which she’d come.
But something lingered in the air… something old and vengeful.
I collapsed on the bed again. The pain was back, not the curse, but something deeper. A darkness that hadn’t fully left.
Maybe it wasn’t over.
I had made a deal with the devil.
And devils always come back to collect.