Chapter 205

Ava’s POV

The moment the words left his lips, the room fell deathly still. My mother stiffened beside me, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress. My father—bleeding, bound, and helpless—managed to lift his head to meet my gaze. There was something raw and desperate in his eyes, something that pierced through the pain.

I couldn't move. My body froze, paralyzed by the weight of it all: the truth, the lies, the sheer cruelty.

Damien took his time, stepping away and pacing before us, his hands clasped behind his back as if this were a mere business transaction. “You know, I did consider sparing you,” he mused. “You were always the least insufferable of the bunch. But now, I see that was a mistake.”

I swallowed hard. “You think this ends with us?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady. “You think you’ll get away with this?”

Damien chuckled. “Oh, Little Dove, I don’t think—I know.” His voice was laced with amusement, but beneath it, a chilling certainty resonated.

“I don’t know how you managed to lead them all here, but the moment I realized you were coming, I had to change my plans.” His smirk widened. “Initially, I was going to blow Grayson up alongside your father, but then I thought, why not make things more interesting?”

A wave of nausea washed over me. So that was the change of plans the man outside had mentioned.

Damien continued, his tone almost conversational. “I let it play out, let the joke of a rescue unfold, just to watch it pathetically fall apart. I have no intention of killing the Alpha King tonight.”

His gaze flickered between the three of us, sharp and assessing.

“But you three? You do die tonight.”

My mother tensed. My father—still bound and bleeding—said nothing, though I saw the effort it took for him to remain upright.

Damien’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “I’ll be generous. You have twenty minutes. Use them wisely—say your final words, make your peace.”

Then, as if discussing the weather, his eyes landed on me.

“You look just like her. It’s a disappointment you never saw it.”

I stiffened. He’d said those words before—at the ball. Back then, I’d thought he was referring to my mother. But now… that meant I had met her. I had met my sister.

A sad smile touched his lips, devoid of warmth. “Hope you enjoyed finally flying while you could,” his voice dropped, almost taunting. “It’s unfortunate that your wings will be clipped so soon.”

He turned away, his final words hanging in the air like a death sentence: “Goodbye, Little Dove.”

My father’s agonized screams filled the small space, his body jerking violently against the restraints. My mother and I rushed to his side. That must have been Damien’s plan, because he stepped out, slamming the vault door shut behind him. Panic seized me. This wasn’t just pain—it was something far worse.

“Hold him down!” my mother ordered, her voice sharp with urgency.

I dropped to my knees, gripping my father’s shoulders as he convulsed. My mother frantically worked at the gag tied around his mouth, yanking it off.

“Luther! What did he do?” she demanded, her fingers tracing his face. “Tell us! How do we stop it?”

For a moment, he could only gasp, his body trembling violently. His breaths were ragged, shallow. I had never seen my father—strong, unshakable Luther Pierce—like this.

“He…” His voice broke, his body seizing before he managed to force out, “…poison…in the restraints. Silver-laced…and something else—something dark. It’s inside me.”

Silver-laced. That alone would weaken him, but something more?

“What else?” My mother pressed, her hands shaking as she tried to untie the restraints. The moment her fingers brushed against them, she flinched, hissing in pain.

I looked at my father’s wrists. The bindings weren’t just silver; they were soaked in something thick and dark, an unnatural black sheen coating them.

Not just poison. Magic.

My stomach churned. Damien had planned this—not just to hurt him, but to ensure we couldn’t save him.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, gripping the ties. The second my skin made contact, searing pain shot through my palms. I barely suppressed a cry, yanking my hands away.

My father groaned, his head lolling back as his skin paled.

“We need to get these off him,” I said, but my mother was already moving, scanning the room for anything that could help.

“We can’t just rip them off,” she muttered. “Silver weakens, but this… this is something else. Damien wouldn’t have left him here unless he was sure he wouldn’t get out alive.”

My father gasped, blinking sluggishly. “It’s…spreading. He said…if the restraints stay on too long…it will reach my heart.”

No. I refused to let that happen.

“What counteracts it?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady. “What did Damien use? What stops it?”

He exhaled shakily, his head tilting toward me, his eyes hazy with pain. “Nightshade…”

My mother stiffened. “Nightshade?”

“Combined with wolfsbane,” he rasped. “It…neutralizes it. Slows the spread. But—” Another sharp breath. “—it has to be done carefully. Too much and—”

I didn’t need him to finish. Too much would kill him.

“We need to find some,” I said, standing.

“Where?” My mother’s voice wavered. “We’re trapped in here. And we don’t have the time. Nightshade is extremely rare.”

My heart pounded as I tore my gaze from my father’s weakening form and glanced at the vault door. I wasn’t going to let him die. Not like this. Not when I knew—despite everything—I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive him for all he had done.

And none of us were going to die here. There was no way in hell I was going to die with my parents. Isabella? I might have considered it poetic. Grayson? Maybe if I wasn't so angry, I would have thought it epic. Till death do us part.

I pushed those thoughts aside, turning sharply, scanning the walls, the floor—anything that could help. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but standing still wasn’t an option. The air in the vault grew heavier, my father’s breathing more ragged, the weight of my mother’s worried stare pressing on my back.

I felt her watching me, her body tense with uncertainty.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily as I took a step back, my eyes locking onto the thick metal of the vault door.

Ignoring her, I reached inward—toward my wolf.

‘Shift. I need you.’

I braced myself, expecting the familiar heat of my bones breaking, stretching, reshaping—but instead, I felt nothing.

I gritted my teeth. ‘Come on. This isn’t the time for your bullshit. I said shift.’

No answer, but she was there. I wanted to snap at her, but deep down, I knew. She wasn’t strong enough. Not to break through this.

A sharp inhale from my mother made me snap my head toward her. She didn’t need to ask. She already knew.

“Ava, you can’t break down the vault.”

Frustration burned through me. I turned on her, my hands clenching into fists. “Then what the hell do you expect me to do?”

My voice rang through the small space, the words echoing back at me with a force that wasn’t my own. A force that made my father’s eyes widen.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my body stiffening. The room tilted for a second, the air charged with something unseen—something familiar.

My mother’s head snapped up. She stared at me, her expression shifting from fear to realization.

“You have power in you, Ava,” she whispered. “You can get us out of here.”

Power. The word twisted inside me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. I shook my head. “I… I don’t even know what it is. I don’t control it. I don’t even know when or how it happens. I—”

“Yes, you do.”

Her certainty caught me off guard. She stepped forward, gripping my shoulders. “You don’t think it’s there because it doesn’t come at your will. But it is there.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering.

“The ball,” she continued, “The house, when you were having a panic attack. Just now. And it is struggling to surface.”

I could barely breathe. She was right. It had been there, lurking beneath my skin, rising when I was pushed past my breaking point. And now, I was at that point again.

I clenched my jaw. Focus. I needed to focus.

I shut my eyes, blocking out my father’s labored breathing, my mother’s anxious presence, the suffocating weight of the vault.

I reached for it. Whatever it was. The power that had been fighting to surface. The force that had echoed in my voice, in my presence. The thing inside me that wasn’t just my wolf—was never just my wolf.

And for the first time, I didn’t push it away. I pulled it in…

(The story continues…)