Does a rejected wolf betray?

Does a rejected wolf betray?
Vicky

They stared at me, Caspian’s steady gaze and James’s hollow silence stretching the moment into something taut and unbearable. I stood there, frozen in the doorway.
Seven nights with Dimitri still lingered in my skin, a vivid contrast to this reunion with James, the man who’d rejected me, and Caspian. The air buzzed with everything unsaid, a storm of emotions crashing over me, and a strange, aching pull I couldn’t name. It was too much, all at once, and I didn’t know how to respond.

Finally, Caspian broke the silence, his voice calm but edged with weariness. “Hello, Vicky.”

“Hello, Caspian,” I replied, matching his tone, my eyes flickering between him and James. James didn’t speak, didn’t even look at me. He was thin, unshaven, a ghost of the man I’d known
His broad shoulders slumped, his face shadowed with exhaustion or something darker. What had happened to him?

“We need help,” Caspian said, stepping forward slightly.

“What can I do?” I asked, forcing myself to focus, to push past the chaos in my chest.

“We are being hunted,” he explained, his words measured but urgent. “We have no news of what’s happening. We need a hiding place to sleep during the day. But the witches hunt us during the day, the vampires at night. It’s more difficult.”

I nodded, piecing it together with what I’d learned. “Well, the queen of the witches was murdered. I believe it was done by a vampire, but they made it look like it was a Lycan—a Tasmanian Devil, specifically. So, Jean is now the king of the witches. And you have to get out of Romania, as soon as possible.”

“Not without you,” James said suddenly, his voice low and rough, cutting through the silence like a blade. His eyes almost lifeless, dulled by whatever hell he’d been through, finally met mine, and my breath caught.
What was happening to him? Why did he still have this hold on me, after everything?

“We can’t leave,” Caspian added, his tone practical, overriding James’s outburst. “The others are kind of surrounded.”

I exhaled, my mind racing to form a strategy. “How many of you are there?”

“There are six of us,” Caspian answered, glancing at James, who’d sunk back into his inertia, staring at the floor.
Goddess, what was I supposed to do with him like this?

I took a step forward, forcing authority into my voice. “Why don’t you take a shower or get some sleep? I can order food to the room. I need to make some calls.”

“Who are you going to call, Vicky?” Caspian asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Can we trust them?”

“To Dário—he can help,” I said firmly. “And some contacts I made here. Do you want my help or not?”

“No,” James muttered.

“Yes!” Caspian countered, overriding him with a sharp look.

“Well, I have things to do,” I snapped, turning on my heel. “Make up your minds.” I strode to the balcony, the cool night air hitting my face as I gripped the railing, my heart pounding.

Caspian followed me onto the balcony moments later. The night air was crisp, tugging at my newly blackened hair, and I gripped the railing tighter, trying to steady myself.

“I convinced James to take a shower,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me, his voice low and practical. “Did you order food?”

“Yes,” I replied, glancing at him. “It should be here soon.”

He nodded, then paused, his dark eyes studying me. “What happened to you two?”

I bristled. “Didn’t he tell you what he did?”

“No,” Caspian said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s devastated.”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet. “He broke up with me, Caspian. We got divorced, and he rejected me.”

“He what?” Caspian’s brows shot up, disbelief etching his face.

“That’s it,” I snapped, the memory clawing at me. “He left without saying goodbye and left a signed letter rejecting me.”

“A letter?”

“It’s not funny,” I shot back, my voice trembling. “I suffered a lot…”

“Vicky,” he said, his tone softening but edged with exasperation, “you’re not an idiot, by the Goddess! If he had rejected you, you’d have suffered unbearable pain. Your mark wouldn’t still be there where I see it—” He nodded toward my neck, where the faint scar of James’s bite lingered, a bond I’d thought severed. “—and he wouldn’t have been walking around like a zombie for two weeks. You weren’t born a wolf, but I thought you’d studied a little more…”

I stared at him, my mind reeling, the pieces crashing together.
“He felt like you were cheating on him for a week,” Caspian continued, his voice gentler now. “He suffered a lot. But I think he deserved it, in part.”

“Shit,” I whispered, my knees weakening as I leaned harder against the railing. “That idiot. How was I supposed to know? I did it for him, so I could be here…”
I’d thought James had cut me loose, that the letter was final, but if Caspian was right—if the bond still held—then James had felt me with Dimitri. Every kiss, every caress, a wound he’d endured in silence. And I’d been clueless, thinking he’d moved on.

A knock at the door jolted me, and the food arrived.
“I’ll go down,” I muttered, pushing past Caspian. “You two eat. I need to calm down.”
I paced outside, the realization sinking deeper. If he hadn’t rejected me, then James would have been drowning in my betrayal, real or not. I’d slept with Dimitri, given myself to him for answers, for survival, believing James was done with me.
Well, I didn't know he was still into me. But now I was full of guilt, and I felt like a traitor.
The door opened, and I did not care enough to check who was outside. Footsteps approached, soft but deliberate, and a scent hit me.
I turned, almost against my will, and there was a strange man.
He stood as a vision of Gallic allure, his presence both commanding and effortlessly elegant. His rich chestnut brown hair fell in loose waves that framed his face, the ends curling just above his shoulders. But it was his vibrant purple eyes that truly set him apart, a rare and mesmerizing shade that seemed to shift with his mood, from the deep amethyst of contemplation to the bright lilac of excitement.
I didn’t recognize this young man, yet felt like I should. He carried an air of quiet intensity, a presence that tugged at something deep within me. My breath caught, a strange pull tightening my chest, as if some unseen thread had snapped taut between us.
"Mon âme soeur, tu es superbe comme ça." He greeted me with a mysterious smile.
Who was he? I didn’t know him by name or face, but the way Veny surged forward told me this wasn’t random.

Marcelo
The news of my mother’s death struck like a thunderclap, reverberating through the hollows of the sanctum where I’d been studying ancient runes.
Queen Narttyri was murdered, her body sprawled in the council chamber, a dagger in her heart. Jean’s voice had carried the weight of tragedy as he accused the Tasmanian Devils, those Lycan brutes, of the deed, and the council had erupted in fury. I’d stood at the back, my staff cool in my grip, watching him pace before her corpse.
Something gnawed at me. Jean had never loved her; I’d seen it in the way he dismissed her, the cold edge to his smiles. But I held my tongue, my mind turning instead to a whisper I’d caught days before her death.
That was a secret name: Dianna, the name of the moon goddess, his hybrid daughter, half-witch, half-human.

I’d heard of her in passing, rumors of Jean’s indiscretion with a Hispanic human woman, a child he’d abandoned, a stain he’d buried. But now, with Mother gone and Jean crowned king, that child loomed larger in my thoughts.
Who was she, this step-sister I’d never met?
I needed to know her, to understand what she was, what she meant in this tangled web Jean had spun. Was she a pawn like Mother had been, or something more? I slipped away from the sanctum that night, the council’s outrage still ringing in my ears, and charted a path to find her.
Word was she’d been in Romania, tied to Nosferatu’s schemes—Jean’s leverage, perhaps. If I could reach her, I might uncover truths he’d rather keep hidden.

The journey was a blur of spellcraft and stealth, cloaking myself from prying eyes as I crossed borders, the weight of my staff a comfort against the unknown. Satu Mare was my destination, whispers from my spells contact the elements in the air, they pointed me there, a city near the Hungarian line.
I arrived under a waning moon, the streets quiet, and checked into a modest hotel, my senses sharp for any trace of her. She was close. I felt it.
I’d heard she was fierce, resourceful, a survivor who’d escaped Jean’s grasp more than once. Did she know of me, her step-brother by a mother she’d never met? Did she hate Jean as I was beginning to? How would she react when seeing me?

I climbed the hotel stairs, my boots silent on the worn carpet, and paused outside a door where the air thrummed with something wild—wolf scent, unmistakable, mingled with a faint trace of magic.
Was she tall like Jean, with his piercing eyes? Did she wield power like ours, or was she all beast? I wanted to know everything. Mother’s death had left me adrift, Jean’s lies a shadow I couldn’t trust, and Dianna might be the key.

I raised my hand, knocked on the door. Footsteps showing that she is comming.
I wanted to see her, to hear her voice, to know the woman who shared my father’s lineage yet lived a life so alien to mine. My pulse quickened, a mix of anticipation and nerves, and I spoke before I could stop myself.
“Mon âme sœur, tu es superbe comme ça.”