Chapter 2

Delilah's Pov

*Two Years Later*

"You shouldn't go back to Velmora. You don't belong there anymore," Reyna said, arms folded as she stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.

I tightened the straps of my satchel, the weight of my decision heavier than anything inside it. "I know," I replied calmly, "but that’s exactly why I have to go. Everyone thinks I’m dead… and yet, they contacted me."

"You can politely decline," Reyna argued. Her voice was sharp, but it trembled.

I turned to her, offering a faint smile. "No, Reyna. I can’t. I have to get my revenge… for what Caleb and Islode did to me."

Reyna scoffed. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? You’ll just waltz back into Velmora like some ghost from the past?"

"You’ll see," I whispered, stepping closer to her. "You’ll hear of it. Just know… I plan to have his father under my clothes before anyone even realizes who I really am."

She blinked. "Crashed out," she muttered. “You’re mad.”

Maybe I was. But revenge had a strange way of keeping a person alive.

Reyna was the one who took me in when I first arrived in Nytheria, bloodied, betrayed, and broken. She was a healer too, one of the best and under her guidance, I had bloomed. She gave me strength. She gave me purpose. And now I was one of the most respected healers in Nytheria.

They didn’t know it was me. They didn’t know the one they cast out, the one they tried to kill, had survived and thrived. Malric Vane, Caleb’s father, the elusive lycan who rarely showed himself was sick. And now, they wanted me to heal him.

"I can't change my mind now," I said softly. "I’m already packed. We've been planning this for days. They’re expecting me. The trip is long and unlike you wolves, I can’t run across mountains."

"Take care of yourself," Reyna said, pulling me into a hug, the kind that lingered like the scent of lavender on an old scarf. "You better come back in one piece."

"I will," I promised, even though neither of us truly believed it.

****

Outside, the early morning mist curled around the edges of the carriage. Warriors…silent and expressionless, carried my luggage with caution. I stepped in, letting the soft velvet seat catch my weight, and the carriage lurched forward.

The journey was long. Grueling, even. I slept in stretches, waking only when the cart stopped to change horses or let the escorts rest. In those quiet moments, I thought. I imagined what it would be like to see them again. Caleb. Islode. Seraphine. I pictured their faces, their shock.

I’d haunt them without even lifting a finger.

Three days passed in a haze of sleep, maps, and quiet planning.

And then, finally, Velmora.

I knew where to go. They’d given precise directions, Malric’s castle. The lonely, ancient fortress where he lived like a shadow among men, away from the rest of the pack. Of course he would be sick. Loneliness has a way of rotting the body from the inside out.

As we neared the blackened gates, I saw them.

Men dressed in the crest of the Vane lineage waiting. Their stances were stiff, their faces unreadable. They didn’t know me. They didn’t recognize the woman they once turned their backs on.

Perfect.

The carriage came to a slow halt. I stepped out, heels clicking against the stone path, posture graceful, gaze steady. Their eyes followed my every move.

They bowed.

"We’ve been expecting you."

"I’ve been expecting to be here too," I said, lips slightly curled as I stepped forward.

Without another word, they turned, and I followed.

The hallway opened up into a grand, towering mansion, its ceiling stretched high enough to vanish into shadows, and its width… gods. It could house a thousand souls with room to spare. And yet, one man chose to live here… alone. Power hummed in the walls. You could feel it in the air, dense and old, like something sacred had been sealed within.

We climbed a sweeping staircase, silent except for the tap of boots against marble. At the top, two pack members tall, rough-edged statued men were carved before a grand set of doors carved with ancient runes. The handles were black metal, etched with vines and moons.

“He’s inside,” one of them said quietly. “Please… take care of him. One of us will accompany you in—”

“No need,” I cut in smoothly. “When I’m done, I’ll come out.”

They hesitated but then nodded. They knew what that tone meant. I was in charge now.

They stepped aside, moving to the far wall like obedient statues. I took a breath and opened the door.

The moment I stepped in, the world shifted.

The room was vast, larger than most village halls I’d seen and dimly lit with a soft, golden glow from lanterns carved into the stone. And there, in the center of a bed large enough for three, lay the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Malric Vane.

Even in sickness, he looked like he had been carved from moonlight and wrath. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. His dark, silver-touched hair spilled over the pillows, and his features were sharp. He had the kind of beauty that made you forget why you came. The kind that could burn you alive if you got too close.

I walked toward him, slow, graceful steps.

Gods, he looked like the moon had sent him down herself. And maybe she had.

I let my fingers trail down his arm, then across the edge of his jaw. His skin was warm. He stirred slightly but didn’t open his eyes.

"You are just the right thing I’ve been expecting," I whispered.

I moved to the side, pulling out my tools, my journal, and my vials. Just enough to make this look professional. I sat down beside the bed, opening my thighs just slightly as I settled the book on my lap, pretending to write, pretending to study his pulse.

But my eyes drifted. Traitors that they were, they found him. Found it.

My gaze slid down his body.

His cock.

Gods. Just the tool for my revenge.

I smiled—slow, sultry, full of quiet promise.

Then I stood, gathered my things like nothing had happened, and walked out of the room.

As soon as I stepped into the hall, the guards straightened.

“Well?” one asked. “Is anything… going to happen?”

"He’ll heal," I replied, keeping my voice smooth, unreadable. "But it will take time. I need to remain close. I’ll be staying here until he fully recovers."

They exchanged glances and nodded respectfully.

One of them gave a small bow. “Delilah, you're free to stay as long as you please."