Chapter 182

Layla's POV

Kael and I raced through the forest, our feet pounding against the damp earth. The taste of adrenaline filled my mouth, sharp and metallic. Behind us, the ballroom's chaos faded into the distance, but the memory of Conrad's hollow chest remained burned in my mind.

"There," Kael pointed ahead, his breath visible in the cold night air.

I followed his gaze and stopped abruptly. A stone structure stood in a clearing, bathed in the eerie crimson glow of the blood moon hanging overhead. My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't just any clearing—it was a ritual site with ancient symbols carved into stone pillars.

"What is that?" I whispered, gripping Soulrend tighter. The sword hummed in response, its energy pulsing through my arm.

"An old werewolf ritual ground," Kael replied, his voice low. "I've heard stories, but I've never seen one."

We crept closer, staying within the shadows of the trees. As we approached, I saw it—a crystal coffin positioned in the center of the stone circle, illuminated by torches placed around the perimeter. Inside the coffin lay a woman, her features still perfect despite clearly being dead for years.

"Mom," I gasped, my legs nearly giving out beneath me.

Kael steadied me with a hand on my elbow. "Isabella?"

I nodded, unable to speak as emotions flooded through me. She looked exactly like in the photos Damian had shown me—long dark hair, peaceful expression, wearing a white dress that seemed untouched by time.

Movement caught my eye. Damian paced near the coffin, checking his watch repeatedly. His fingers drummed against his leg, and he kept glancing toward the forest on the opposite side.

"He's waiting for something," Kael whispered.

"Or someone," I added, watching my father's nervous movements.

Kael's jaw tightened. "More hearts, probably. The map had other territories marked."

"We need to stop him now," I said, ready to charge forward.

But as we stepped from the tree line, figures emerged from the shadows around the ritual site. At least a dozen guards in black tactical gear positioned themselves between us and Damian, their weapons raised.

"Shit," Kael muttered.

Damian noticed us then, his eyes finding mine across the distance. Instead of looking angry at our interruption, he seemed almost relieved.

"Layla," he called out. "You're just in time."

"In time for what?" I shouted back, keeping Soulrend visible. "Your sick resurrection ritual?"

The guards didn't approach us but maintained their defensive positions. Damian gestured for us to come closer, which we did cautiously, ready to fight at any moment.

"You don't understand," Damian said when we were close enough to hear his normal speaking voice. "None of you do."

"Then explain it," I demanded, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Explain why you're harvesting hearts and trying to resurrect my mother."

Damian's eyes softened as he looked at me, an expression I'd rarely seen on his face. "Isabella has been gone for over twenty years, Layla. Twenty years I've spent without her."

"That doesn't justify murder," Kael growled.

Damian's gaze hardened when he looked at Kael. "You know nothing of loss, Stone. Nothing of true love."

"I know enough," Kael replied, his hand finding mine.

Damian noticed the gesture and laughed bitterly. "Young love. So confident, so temporary."

"Stop stalling," I said. "What are you waiting for? More hearts to steal?"

Damian shook his head, his eyes drifting to the blood moon overhead. "Just one more piece of the puzzle. One more person."

A chill ran down my spine. "Alex?"

Surprise flickered across Damian's face before he masked it. "Very perceptive, daughter."

"Why Alex?" Kael asked, scanning the area for threats.

Damian's expression darkened. "He has... knowledge. Ancient knowledge that I need."

"Black magic," I spat out the words. "That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"Magic, science, religion—they're all just words for things we don't fully understand," Damian replied, his tone oddly philosophical. "I've done terrible things, yes. I've become someone I never wanted to be."

"Then stop," I pleaded, taking a step forward. The guards tensed, but Damian waved them to stand down. "Stop this insanity and come back with us."

"Come back to what?" Damian asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "A life without her? Everything I've done, everything I've become—it's all because of Isabella's absence. She was my heart, my soul."

"So you'll kill others to bring her back?" Kael challenged.

"Yes," Damian answered without hesitation. "A thousand times yes. I would burn the world to ashes if it meant having her in my arms again."

The raw honesty in his voice sent shivers through me. He meant every word.

"You're not the father I remember," I said quietly.

Pain flashed across his face. "No, I'm not. That man died with Isabella. What you see before you is just a shell, a ghost walking among the living."

A twig snapped behind us. We all turned to see a figure emerging from the forest—Alex, looking unfazed by the night's chaos, dressed impeccably in a suit with not a hair out of place.

"Am I interrupting a family reunion?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

Damian's entire demeanor changed. The vulnerable man disappeared, replaced by someone eager, almost submissive. "Master," he said, bowing his head slightly. "You're here."

Master? I looked between them, confusion mounting.

Alex's eyes found mine, then dropped to Soulrend in my hand. His expression changed instantly, hunger replacing his casual demeanor.

"The Soulrend," he whispered, taking a step toward me. "You have it."

Kael moved in front of me protectively. "Stay back."

Alex ignored him, his focus entirely on my sword. "Damian never mentioned you possessed it."

"I didn't know," Damian admitted, producing a small pouch from his jacket. "But I have what you requested—Conrad's heart, harvested during the blood moon."

Alex tore his gaze away from my sword, looking at the pouch. "Excellent. Finally, after all these years of planning."

"Yes," Damian agreed eagerly. "Now you can help me bring Isabella back, as promised."

Something in Alex's expression changed—a subtle shift that sent warning bells ringing in my head.

"Damian," I called out. "Get away from him!"

But it was too late. In one fluid motion, Alex pulled a curved dagger from his sleeve and plunged it into Damian's chest.

"Dad!" I screamed, the word tearing from my throat before I could stop it.

Damian looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, shock and betrayal written across his face. "Why?" he gasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.

Alex twisted the knife, his face cold and calculating. "Because I never intended to bring Isabella back. She can't be resurrected—no one can. That was just a convenient lie to make you do my dirty work."