Chapter 238

Ava’s POV

Dylan was a bastard. I knew it the moment I felt the mating bond, and I still don't understand how that happened. Even without my wolf, I was sure it was him. He proved it daily, and today, he surpassed himself. I called, but before I could speak, he cut me off with a voice as cold as death: "You found your way to hell. Stay there." Then he hung up. Stupid, stupid Dylan. So much for trying to help Crystal. He was a lost cause.

"So, that didn't go well," Isabella muttered, scrolling through her phone, her expression blank.

I huffed, pocketing my phone. "He's an idiot."

The gates creaked open, and our car proceeded smoothly. The estate was unsettlingly quiet. I was the first out, inhaling deeply. The air was thick, humid, like a storm was brewing.

Rickon, my father, and Maria were arriving soon. Grayson and my mother—if they hadn't killed each other—were to meet us after tracking the High Priestess. Once everyone was together, we'd discuss everything. Ricardo suggested a feast. A feast. It initially seemed odd, but now… it felt like a last meal before battle; a final send-off.

I exhaled sharply and started walking toward the house. My mind raced, piecing together the puzzle—then it hit me.

A sudden, sharp, blinding pain ripped through me, white-hot and searing. My knees buckled. A cry escaped before I could stop it, the world tilting. A hand grabbed my arm.

"Lilian!" Isabella's voice was sharp, panicked. "What the hell—are you okay?"

I could barely hear her. The pain wasn't normal; it was something else. It burned, not on my skin or in my bones, but inside me, coiling through every nerve like fire, as if my body was turning against me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, shaking my head. "I'm fine," I forced out. "I don't know what just happened."

Liar. I wasn't fine. I didn't know what this was, but it felt wrong.

I took a step, trying to ignore it, but the pain hit again. This time, I fell. My knees slammed into the pavement, the pain flaring violently, blurring my vision. My body convulsed, every muscle tightening, as if something clawed through me from the inside out.

Isabella knelt beside me. "Lilian—what the hell is happening?"

I couldn't answer, couldn't think. The pain was suffocating, like being crushed, my body a prison.

"Lilian, talk to me!" Isabella grabbed my face, forcing me to focus. Her usually unreadable eyes were wide with panic. "What's happening to you?"

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. My fingers dug into the pavement, my breath short, uneven. My skin burned. My blood felt wrong. Something was happening, something inside me shifting, unraveling.

Isabella whirled, shouting at the security team. "Don't just stand there! Do something!"

The guards finally moved, reaching for their weapons. Then the first gunshot rang out, shattering the air. Another followed, and another. Bullets ripped through the air. Men ducked for cover, but I was still on the ground, writhing as another agonizing wave of pain hit.

Isabella screamed, "What the fuck—"

I forced my head up, blinking past the haze, and saw them: Ricardo's men, attacking, slaughtering Grayson's guards. What the hell was happening?

A body hit the ground near me, blood pooling on the pavement.

Isabella grabbed my arm, her voice frantic. "Can you get up?"

I tried. But the pain—fuck. I clenched my teeth, reaching for my wolf, for strength, for something to fight through this.

The gunfire continued, sharp and deafening. My ears rang, my body wracked with unbearable pain. I clenched my teeth, trying to breathe, to focus, but every movement sent another jolt through me, like something inside was breaking.

Isabella's grip tightened as she ducked low, her eyes darting around. "Why the hell are Ricardo's men shooting at Grayson's guards?!" she hissed. "What the fuck is happening?"

I had no answer. None of this made sense. Before I could speak, another body dropped, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air.

Isabella turned, grabbed my face. "We need to move. Now."

I sucked in a breath, trying to push through the agony. "If Ricardo's men are shooting," I forced out, "shouldn't we be getting back to—"

"Are you out of your mind?!" Isabella cut me off, eyes flashing. "There's a war zone happening, and you want to waltz over to the people with the guns?!"

I flinched as more shots rang out, closer this time. She was right. The pain clouded my judgment.

"We need cover," Isabella said firmly, scanning the area. "Inside is safer than standing here."

She hauled me up, dragging me toward the house. My legs were unsteady, but I forced myself to move. Gunfire cracked behind us, men shouting, bodies falling. One of Grayson's guards was still returning fire, but outnumbered. This wasn't a fight; it was a slaughter.

Isabella shoved me through the front doors, slamming them shut and locking them. She turned to me, breathing hard. "Okay, what the hell is going on with you?"

I braced myself against the wall. "I don't know."

"Bullshit."

"Isabella—"

"No, Ava. No." She stalked toward me, jaw tight. "You dropped like someone yanked the floor out, you looked like you were about to pass out, and you're still not okay. So, tell me what's wrong."

I pressed my fingers against my temple, my head pounding. "I don't know," I repeated, my voice weaker. "It just… hit. Like something inside me was tearing apart."

Isabella swore, pacing. "This is bad. Really fucking bad."

Outside, the gunfire slowed, but didn't stop. Shouts echoed—commands, screams.

"Ricardo planned this," Isabella said, her voice low, sharp. "This was a setup."

My stomach twisted. "No. He's on our—"

"Ava, look outside!" She gestured wildly. "Ricardo's men weren't defending us. They were killing Grayson's people. If this was a misunderstanding, why the hell would they be firing?"

She was right. And I hated it.

"So what do we do?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Isabella exhaled sharply, glancing around. "We need to get the hell out of here before we find out what else Ricardo has planned."

I nodded, pushing off the wall. The pain hadn't faded, but I could stand, I could move. And I wasn't going to wait for Ricardo's next move. We had to get out. Then, a sharp creak echoed through the house.

Isabella and I froze. The gunfire had died down, but the silence was worse. It felt weighted, thick with something unseen. My breath was uneven, my pulse thudding as I forced myself to stay upright. The pain lingered, like an open wound.

Then—footsteps. Steady. Unrushed. Purposeful.

Isabella's claws extended. My fingers twitched, but I wasn't sure I could fight. Whatever happened to me had drained me.

Another step. Then another. He stepped into view. Ricardo.

He wasn't running, panicked, or armed. He walked in like he owned the place, hands in his pockets. His dark eyes flicked between us, unreadable, before his lips curved into a slow, maddening smile.

"What the hell?!" Isabella snapped, raising her gun. "What the fuck is going on, Ricardo? Why are your men attacking us?"

Ricardo didn't flinch. His gaze locked onto mine. And then, softly, he said, "I'm sorry, Ava."

My stomach twisted. Something cold slithered through me, squeezing tight. His smile didn't falter, but there was a quiet finality in his eyes, a certainty.

"But I have to be on the winning side. Don't worry, it will all be over soon."