Page 88 of The Cursed Wolf King

“What would I have said?” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “That my fated mate is supposed to strengthenme, but I feel like I’m dying instead? That what I knew about us—about this bond, about fated mates, and my own leadership—is unraveling?”

Without warning, he clapped a hand on my shoulder.

The touch burned, not physically, somewhere deeper. My wolf recoiled. A low growl rumbled in my chest as I stepped back.

Rhys didn’t move, his hand still outstretched. “I think it’s the curse,” he said quietly. “I’ve been feeling it for years, Logan. Ever since the twins disappeared. I thought it was just grief, but it’s got to be more than that. A fated mateissupposed to be the best thing that ever happens to you. It could very well be a curse—and one that doesn’t originate with Eve.”

I froze, his words sinking in like a stone. “You believe me?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You’re my brother, my alpha, my best friend. If you say she’s your fated mate, I’d be an idiot not to believe you. Even if my head gets in the way sometimes... I trust you, Logan.”

Something in me cracked. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. His hand gripped the back of my jacket, his other resting against my shoulder as he held me. The rain, the road, even the fated mate bond—they faded away. It was just us, the remaining two brothers standing together against whatever hell was coming for us.

“Thank you,” I barely managed to say.

“Always, bro.” When we pulled back, he clapped me on the shoulder again, this time with a small grin. “Seriously, if you’re going to drive like that, I’m putting you on the bus.”

I managed a weak laugh, the sound surprising even myself. “Not a chance.”

“Thought so.” He smirked. “Now let’s get moving. The alphas aren’t going to wait.”

The Rocksmith Cafécame into view as we rounded a corner, its weathered brick exterior and neon sign glowing faintly through the drizzle. It was the one place I could count on finding rumors with regard to the location of the alpha meeting. The hum of the bike steadied my pulse, but my head still felt like it was caught in a vice. The bond with Eve buzzed faintly, a reminder of the weight I carried, both hers and mine.

Rhys pulled into the parking lot first, killing his engine with a swift flick of his wrist. I followed, parking beside him. As soon as I stepped off the bike and laid eyes on that sign again, I remembered the last time I was here.

Damian.

The cracked asphalt of the parking lot shimmered, momentarily blurring. I could still feel the crunch of his bones under my attack, the searing burn of his claws raking across my ribs. The victory had been inevitable, but it hadn’t felt clean. Not with Eve watching, and a part of me knowing it was the beginning of a new reality.

“Logan,” Rhys said, his voice cutting through the memory. He was watching me carefully. “You good?”

I nodded quickly, happy to shake off the lingering image of Damian’s snarling face, and removing my helmet. “Let’s go.”

A bell on the café’s door jingled as we stepped inside, the smell of coffee, grease, and supernatural energy hitting me all at once. The place was more crowded than I expected for this time of night. Eyes turned toward us as we entered, some curious, others wary. I squared my shoulders, letting my wolf simmer below the surface as a warning. Rhys stepped in beside me, his own aura self-assured and solid.

“Alpha Logan.” Victory, the waitress, greeted us with a knowing smile. Her red lipstick was as bright as I remembered. “I was wondering if you’d come back. You’re looking…” She cleared her throat. “Well, you’re here.”

Her quip made Rhys snort.

I nodded. “Hi, Victory.”

She motioned toward an empty table in the corner. “Take a seat. First round’s on me. Because I like it when the good guys win.”

I didn’t respond. I caught the slight grin in her expression as she turned away.

Rhys and I took our seats, and almost immediately, the energy of the room pressed in on me. Other supernaturals were scattered throughout the café—witches, orcs, and a few I couldn’t quite place. It was the wolves that unsettled me most. They were sizing me up, measuring me. My mind was too foggy to know the best course of action.

Victory returned quickly with two beers, setting them on the table with a wink. “Enjoy, boys.”

As I reached for my drink, Rhys stood, murmuring, “Do you smell that? I’ll be back in a minute. Gonna ask if there’s been any word about the meeting making the rounds. Something in here smells odd, and I don’t like it.”

I turned my attention to the room, letting my sensesstretch out. The low hum of conversation whirred in my ears, but I felt the way the room had changed subtly around me. My wolf stirred uneasily, his instincts sharp despite my own exhaustion.

That’s when I caught it—a scent. Faint, but unmistakable.Wolf.Heraclid.

Rhys followed Victory toward the counter, his hand resting lightly on the bar as he leaned in to speak with her. His nostrils flared, and I wondered if he’d caught the same thing I did. They exchanged a few quiet words, Victory’s brows pulling together in thought before she nodded toward the back of the café.

“Hey, Sable,” Victory called. “Still don’t want anything to eat or drink or make your stay worthwhile in the establishment?”

---