Draven didn’t speak at first. He just sat there, staring at Cyrus with parted lips and wide eyes, trying to process the name that had just left his Beta's mouth.
“Raphael?” he finally echoed, blinking slowly as if saying it out loud might somehow make it less unbelievable.
Cyrus gave him a sheepish look, nodding with a small wince as he lay back against the pillows. “Yes.”
Draven leaned back in his chair and let out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have to be joking. First me, now you? What are the damn odds that we’d both be mated to vampires?”
Cyrus gave a weak chuckle. “Twisted fate.”
Draven narrowed his eyes at him, feigning offense. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” Cyrus muttered.
Draven let out a dramatic sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “You and I both ended up with vampires. Gods above.” Then his playful expression faded into something more serious. “Still, I need you to keep quiet about this. If anyone asks... never reveal who your mate is. It wouldn’t end well.”
Cyrus’s expression sobered as he nodded. “I know.”
Draven’s eyes drifted away, something heavy returning to them. “Ares visited.”
Cyrus’s brows immediately furrowed. “What?” he rasped, forcing himself upright with a groan. He winced but didn’t stop.
“Just as Azrael warned me it would happen,” Draven said gravely. “WarBlade was attacked. Ares’s mate was killed in the assault. She was carrying their child.”
Cyrus’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. “Gods...” he whispered. “What did he say?”
Draven’s jaw clenched. “He wants to summon a meeting of the Twelve again. He’s ready to take the fight to the vampires... maybe even lead it.”
Cyrus went silent. The weight of the moment fell heavily between them. Finally, when he found his voice, he said, “This is really bad.”
Draven nodded. “My exact thought.”
Silence fell between them. The crackle of the hearth fire and Cyrus’s labored breathing were the only sounds in the room.
Then a flicker of realization lit up in Cyrus’s expression.
“Azrael’s discovery,” he murmured. “The eyes... the black energy... the missing vampires...” He turned to Draven. “Send for Eryx. Ask him to go around the pack and make a headcount of every present member. Also ask if anyone has been missing relatives, friends—anything that doesn’t add up.”
Draven raised an amused brow. “Look at you. Giving your Alpha commands now?”
Cyrus gave a fake cough and flopped back down onto the bed. “I’m still unwell, you know. Delirious, maybe.”
Draven chuckled, standing up. “Rest, you stubborn bastard. I’ll send Eryx.”
Cyrus nodded, his eyes drifting shut again as Draven walked toward the door.
—
The wind was cool and brisk on the high ridge overlooking the northern edge of the Bloodmoon territory. Draven stood there, his eyes closed, letting the wind tousle his hair and soothe the storm brewing in his chest. The sky was tinted orange and purple from the setting sun.
Footsteps approached behind him.
“You summoned me, Alpha,” came Eryx’s voice.
Draven opened his eyes and turned halfway. “Yes. I need you to go around the entire pack and take a headcount. See if anyone’s missing—relatives, friends, anyone who hasn’t returned or can’t be found.”
Eryx nodded once. “Understood.” He left without another word, moving with the quiet efficiency Draven had always relied on.
Draven remained where he stood, gazing out over the hills, the scent of pine and cold air filling his lungs.
Then he felt it—the familiar scent of lavender and sage.
“Mother,” he said without turning.
Diana moved to stand beside him, her pale cloak billowing in the wind. “So… who is it?” she asked casually.
Draven finally turned to look at her, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“His mate. Cyrus’s mate,” Diana said, voice as smooth as silk.
Draven's eyes returned to the horizon. “The identity of Cyrus’s mate is nobody’s concern.”
Diana arched a brow. “But you know, don’t you? You just won’t tell me.”
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let it go, Mother.”
She was silent for a moment, then asked softly, “Ever since Valkyrie left for her pack, have you kept in touch with her?”
Draven groaned. “Mother…”
“She still asks about you sometimes.”
“There’s no time for such nonsense,” Draven snapped, though his voice wasn’t cruel. He ran a hand down his face, frustration pulsing through him. “Besides, I will never let Valkyrie becoming who you want her to be. I will never make her my mate. My one and only mate is and will forever be Azrael!”
Diana looked at him, not with judgment but something sadder, more understanding. “I’m just doing what a loving mother would do in a situation like this. I’m looking out for you, Draven. Can't you see?”
Draven turned, walking away a few paces, but then stopped and looked back at her. His face was hard.
“War is coming.”
And with that, he turned and left Diana standing alone on the hill, the wind whipping around her like a whisper from the gods.