Chapter 27

Chapter 27
## Elara's POV

I sat before a canvas, dressed in Caius's old shirt and an apron to protect my clothes from paint splatters. The steady rhythm of my brushstrokes filled the otherwise silent room.

Caius sat on a bench at the far end of the studio, watching me with an intensity that I felt even without looking up. The portrait was coming together beautifully—I'd captured the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows that never quite disappeared, and the depth of his blue eyes that seemed to hold so many secrets.

My tongue touched my upper lip as I concentrated on blending the perfect shade for his hair. It was a habit I'd had since childhood, one that my mother always teased me about. A few specks of paint had found their way onto my face, but I was too absorbed in my work to care.

After what felt like both an eternity and mere minutes, I set down my brush and leaned back in my chair, studying my creation with a critical eye.

"This might be my best work yet," I said, meeting Caius's gaze. His eyes widened slightly as he rose and approached the canvas.

"It's perfect," he whispered, his voice laced with unexpected admiration.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at his praise. "I hope your mother likes it. And I hope she recovers soon."

Tension immediately returned to his shoulders. "Thank you for your work. I can pay you for your services," he said stiffly, retreating back into his professional demeanor.

I raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "That won't be necessary."

When he reached for the painting, I quickly stepped between him and the canvas. "Let it dry. It's still wet."

He nodded curtly and turned to leave. I could sense his conflicted emotions.

"Professor?" I called softly as he neared the door.

He stopped but didn't turn around. I saw his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice.

"What happened to your mother? Why was she beaten so badly?" I asked, genuine concern filling my words.

"That's not important. I'm handling it," he replied coldly, still facing away from me.

"I don't doubt that, but why would they target your mother? What did she do to them?" I pressed.

His jaw tightened, but he remained silent, seemingly lost in thought.

"Caius?" I said his name easily, as if I'd been saying it for years, breaking the formal barrier between professor and student.

He finally turned, his blue eyes swimming with complex emotions. "My mother didn't do anything to them. It's a dangerous world, Elara. These things happen," he warned, his voice low.

I frowned and shook my head, my red hair swaying gently with the movement. "I don't believe that. There may be bad people, but the world itself isn't dangerous. Not when there are people protecting it."

"Look around!" he nearly shouted. "There's no one protecting the world. Not yet, anyway." His eyes flashed with anger and pain.

"That's not true," I said firmly. "My father is one of the greatest men I know, and as chair of the Alpha Council, he works every day to protect the Sovereign Realms from people like your father Ulric."

I gasped the moment the words left my mouth, my hand flying to cover my lips. "I didn't mean that," I whispered.

"Yes, you did. And you're right. My father was a terrible man. The world needs protection from men like him," he admitted, rare vulnerability in his voice.

I lowered my hand, feeling close to tears at having struck such a painful chord.

"Were they his followers who hurt your mother?" I asked softly but directly.

Surprise flickered across his face. "How much do you know about his followers?"

I lowered my gaze. "I know they're still out there, intimidating Volana wolves like me. But after what happened with Ulric, they fear my father Alaric and mother Rhiannon, so they usually don't enter Celestria. But I know they're out there... they don't just disappear. My parents keep these things from me because they don't want me worrying about what's happening in other parts of the Sovereign Realms now. They want me focused on myself and my education. But I'm not stupid... I know they're there, and I know there are other Volana wolves. What I don't understand is why your mother would be their target."

Realizing I wouldn't give up until I had answers, Caius's face became expressionless. "My mother hunts them. She's a bounty hunter. They found her first."

I could immediately tell he was lying. It was written in his eyes, in the slight shift of his gaze. Disappointment rippled through me, but I was wise enough to understand that if he didn't want to tell me the truth, it was likely meant to protect me.

Our mate shouldn't lie to us, Anna grumbled inside me.

Caius turned to leave again, his shoulders rigid.

"Can we go to the fundraiser?" I asked suddenly, my voice deliberately light, trying to ease the tension between us.

---

Well... I didn't expect our mate to be a liar, Anna complained as we walked toward the elementary school.

I also didn't expect him to be our professor, but here we are, I replied silently.

I couldn't believe Caius had lied to me so easily. I was certain his mother wasn't some bounty hunter—I could see the falsehood in his eyes. As his mate, I instinctively felt the untruth in his words. Shouldn't mates be able to see through each other's lies? The knowledge that his mother had been attacked by Ulric's followers unsettled me deeply.

Since our conversation in the art studio, Caius had maintained silence on the subject. More than two hours had passed, and the silence had built an invisible wall between us.

We arrived at the large elementary school in the center of town, decorated with Ash Pack symbols and colors. In the distance, I could see Marlene arranging our baked goods for the fundraiser. Children played in the schoolyard while parents browsed the stalls.

As Caius and I approached, the playing children noticed us—or more specifically, my heterochromatic eyes.

"Oh, Moon Goddess!" one child exclaimed from across the yard.

"It's her! It's the Volana wolf!!!" another shouted, their voice mixing excitement and awe.

Caius's expression immediately turned alert, concern etched across his features as all eyes turned toward us.