CHAPTER TWENTY

~Aiden~

The hall was already buzzing when we arrived. Gold lights glimmered across the glass ceiling, bouncing off canvases and glistening wine glasses. The air smelled of fresh paint, perfume, and wolf pheromones, this peculiar mix of creativity and ego.

Jayden and I took our seats in the VIP section, right beside the stage. Every seat around us was filled: artists, alphas, betas, and their mates, all eager to display or witness some kind of talent.

It started with music: a violinist whose wolf mark glowed faintly with every string pulled. Then came dancers and a short drama. After them, poets took the stage, each display cheered by the crowd.

For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about Father. I wasn’t thinking about Siarah or Riya or the weight of the pack. I was just… watching, breathing, and existing.

Then, the announcer’s voice rang out. “Next up, we have Jayden Steele, the alpha heir of this pack, a renowned painter from the Greene lineage. Prepare to be amazed!”

The crowd roared.

Jayden rose from his seat, smirking, brushing invisible dust from his jacket. “Watch and learn, brother,” he said before heading to the stage.

He was in his element.

One by one, his paintings were unveiled: wolves howling under blood moons, lovers caught between war and peace, a single rose blooming through frost. The audience gasped and whispered as though each stroke of paint told a secret.

“Starting bid at five thousand marks!” the announcer called out.

A woman with silver hair raised her card. “Six thousand!”

“Eight!” shouted a man from the far left.

Jayden smiled, leaning casually against the easel.

“Ten thousand!” another bidder yelled.

Jayden chuckled into the mic. “Well, I guess that means I’ll sleep well this week.” Laughter rippled through the room.

By the time his third painting was revealed, a dark storm breaking over a golden field, the bids flew faster. “Fifteen!” “Eighteen!” “Twenty thousand!”

The hammer struck. “Sold!”

Jayden bowed with a grin, collecting applause like oxygen. I couldn’t help but smile. This was the version of my brother that made sense: wild, talented, and unapologetically himself.

Then came his final artwork.

“This one,” he said, “is my heart.”

It was a portrait, two wolves, one white and one black, their heads touching at the center. It was raw. Honest. And painfully beautiful.

“Starting bid, thirty thousand!” the announcer called.

“Thirty-five!” “Forty!” “Fifty!”

The bids shot higher and higher until one man, tall and dressed in an all-black suit, raised his card. “Seventy-five thousand.”

The hall went silent.

Jayden looked at him. “Sold.”

The man stood, walked toward the stage, and hugged Jayden. But then, before anyone could process it, he kissed Jayden.

It wasn’t a peck or something casual. It was real and intentional, a full French kiss that the crowd didn't really notice.

My jaw almost dropped. Was Jayden…? No, that couldn’t be. Did they know each other?

Whispers grew from the front, but Jayden just grinned, wiping his lips, saying nothing.

He returned to his seat beside me, unbothered. “Relax, brother. Art is emotion.”

I said nothing. My mind was too busy spinning.

But after a few minutes, I just let it go. Tonight wasn’t about secrets or labels. It was about breathing again, about letting go, even if for a while.

Soon, the afterparty began.

Drinks flowed like rivers, laughter filled the hall, and the lights dimmed to gold. Strippers danced across the room, their hips moving to slow bass beats. Jayden and I sat back as champagne glasses clinked and music thundered.

Jayden turned down every girl that came his way, waving them off politely. Me? I didn’t.

I laughed, drank more than I should, and let a few girls pull me onto the dance floor. Their hands were everywhere, their perfume dizzying. I didn’t care. I just wanted to forget.

For hours, we danced, drank, and pretended that the world outside didn’t exist.

By midnight, we stumbled toward the exit, half-drunk and half-free.

The streets outside were quiet, bathed in moonlight. The car door opened, and I slumped into the seat.

Jayden laughed. “I can’t believe you! The almighty Aiden, drinking till his words slur, paying for strippers to twerk. You? I thought you were the responsible one.”

I groaned. “Sometimes, one needs to bend the rules a little. All work and no play makes Jack…”

“…a dull boy,” Jayden finished with a grin, laughing excitedly.

The drive back was slow and silent, save for our occasional snickers. The night breeze was cool, teasing my hair through the window.

By the time we reached the castle, the halls were asleep. The moonlight painted silver trails on the marble floor.

Jayden stopped at the door, turning to one of the guards. “Tell the guard at the back gate I need him in my bedroom now.”

“Yes, sire,” the man replied and hurried off.

I frowned. “What do you want with the guard?”

Jayden only smiled, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Get some sleep, bro.”

I didn’t push further. I was too tired, too dizzy.

When I got to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change. My stomach churned a few times before I rolled over and vomited right beside the bed.

Classy.

I lay there, eyes half-open, listening to the castle. Somewhere in the distance, faint slaps of skin echoed through the hallways. Someone was… occupied. I groaned, jamming my pillow over my head. “Not tonight. Why would someone be fucking at this hour?” I muttered, and drifted off.

*****

By morning, the castle smelled of roasted steak and fried rice. Father and Siarah were already seated at the dining table when I passed through the hallway.

“Good morning, s… son,” Siarah stammered, her voice fading as I walked past, waving at them, but I didn’t respond.

I walked straight past them, not sparing a glance.

The kitchen was quiet except for the bubbling of pots and the faint hum of Nora’s tune. She turned when I entered, her eyes widening.

“You look terrible, sire.”

“I feel worse,” I groaned. “Need something to wash this hangover out.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Activated charcoal, then an ayurvedic tea afterward. It’ll flush the toxins.”

“You and your ayurvedic potions,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “If it works, fine. Do it.”

She smiled faintly and hurried off. I sat on the kitchen counter, the memory of last night spinning like a film reel: Jayden on stage, the bidding, the kiss, the laughter, the strippers, the brief feeling of being free.

When Nora returned, she placed two cups in front of me, one dark, one steaming.

I stared at them. “They look like punishment.”

“Only for those who sin against their liver,” she teased.

I forced down the charcoal and sipped the bitter tea, my face twisting.

Nora laughed softly, turning back to her cooking.

I leaned against the counter, the taste of ash still on my tongue. “Jayden,” I muttered under my breath, sh

aking my head. “He really made me do nasty shit.”

My mind was clear of all the weight of the pack, but not of the weight of last night.