Chapter Two: The Babysitter

Darkness.

It was a heavy, pitch-black void, but the echoes of furious voices shattered the silence of her fading consciousness.

“Get away from her, Theron! Step back!”

“Hold him down! Inject the sedative now!” Bellamy’s voice barked over the sound of heavy iron chains rattling. “Talia, clear the perimeter!”

A deep, agonized roar tore through the dark.

“Her heart stopped, Bellamy!” Devon’s voice cracked. “The monster killed her!”

“She’s not dead, Beta! He pulled back before the fangs broke the skin. A Lycan cannot mark a dead soul."

Silence.

Rhiannon’s mind finally blanked out completely

****

The pressure in the grand onyx briefing room felt suffocating.

Prince Bellamy stood at the grand map table with his jaw locked and his eyes fixed somewhere past the far wall, enduring the resonance of a royal mind-link vibrating directly behind his temples.

Theron's inner beast, Acheron, was roaring through the mental connection from his confinement cell, his voice dark and absolute:

‘Hide her if you want, Prince. The moment this sedative purges from my blood, I am tearing through every border if I must. She belongs to me.’

Bellamy severed the link with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as he looked at the two people standing before him.

"Step away from the situation, Devon," Bellamy said, his voice echoing in the cold room. "The King just pushed an executive order through the mind-link. There is no stopping a fated Lycan bond once it ignites. The best thing you can do right now is not resist at all. I already have a plan."

"What?!" Devon exploded, his rugged warrior frame vibrating with unhinged fury. He didn't care that he was standing in front of a royal prince. "You're going to let that monster near my sister after what he just did?!"

In the corner, Talia pressed her back against the stone wall, her emerald eyes overflowing. “Devon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the Berserk phase would hit tonight. I swear I didn’t—”

"I explicitly told you to never bring my sister across the Vrykanian border, Talia!" Devon turned on the princess, his voice thundered.

"I forbade this country! I don't even step foot in the royal capital myself unless ordered, and you smuggle a fragile human right into the epicenter of a Lycan outbreak? If my sister dies because of your reckless curiosity, I will never look at your face again."

Talia’s face crumpled.

Lyra whimpered painfully inside her mind. Guilt crashed over her, that she almost couldn’t breathe.

"Enough!" Prince Bellamy stepped forward. The air in the room grew suffocatingly dense.

Bellamy looked directly at Devon, his eyes flaring a dangerous, commanding gold.

"Submission, Beta," his voice dropped to a terrifying frequency that vibrated through the floorboards. "By the blood of the Alpha line, I command you—kneel."

A choked, agonized gasp escaped Devon’s throat. His inner wolf, Fenrir, whimpered inside his mind, completely overpowered by the hereditary royal command.

Devon’s knees hit the marble floor with a heavy thud, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white as he was physically forced to submit.

“The Lycan won’t hurt her.” Bellamy said with clenched jaw. “She might be the reincarnated soul of his mate. Why are you so worked up?”

"Because her damn heart is failing!" Devon finally burst out, the agonizing secret tearing from his throat like a broken scream. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes.

"She’s dying, Bellamy! Her heart has been failing for months. She has a year left. Or maybe less.”

A suffocating, dead silence filled the room.

Talia’s face drained entirely of color.

"What...?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Devon, what do you mean she's dying?"

"That’s why she wanted to see Vrykania!" Devon barked.

“She was trying to fulfill her final bucket list before her heart gives up. She kept pretending she was fine. But she’s not fine.”

He pointed shakily toward Talia.

“And even after I warned you—repeatedly—you still brought a fragile, dying girl into a country full of wolves.”

His chest heaved.

“If my sister dies because of this… I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Talia covered her mouth, sinking against the wall as tears flooded her face.

‘No wonder Rhiannon always held her chest. No wonder she looked exhausted and became quiet.’ Lyra let out a low, grieving whine.

Prince Bellamy brows furrowed in confusion.

"If her heart is failing..." he murmured, trying to process the impossible logic.

"Then why did the cosmic mate bond snap? The ancient magic will never choose a fading soul. It makes no sense."

"I don't care about your wolf magic!" Devon growled, clenching his teeth hard . "She is a normal human, living in a normal human country. The outside world cannot find out that people like you exist, and I will not let a Lycan drag her into an early grave."

"They won't find out," Bellamy stated coldly, recovering his royal composure. "I am personally casting the memory spell right now. We wipe the garden incident completely from her head.”

Devon’s eyes turned bloodshot.

Bellamy met his eyes without flinching.

“That’s a direct order, Beta.”

****

Rhiannon snapped upright with a sharp gasp, her hands instantly flying to her chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart was beating steadily. She couldn’t feel the crushing agony she felt from before.

Rhiannon blinked rapidly, her hazel eyes darting around the familiar room. Where she was tucked safely beneath her own cotton sheets in her apartment at Oakhaven.

She let out a shaky breath, confusion swirling heavily in her mind.

She remembered sneaking across the border with Talia. Then standing in that grand Vrykanian garden under the strange pink moon.

But after that? Nothing.

Her mind felt completely blanked out.

Panic gripped her as she realized she was back in her own bed.

‘How on earth did I get back home?’

A heavy wave of guilt slammed into her chest. She had gone to Vrykania completely behind Devon's back. He had explicitly forbidden her from ever nearing that border country.

The only logical explanation was that Talia must have panicked when she fainted from her chest pain, and called Devon to come drag her back home.

'God, he's going to kill me,' she thought, her stomach twisting. 'He caught me red-handed.'

Sucking in a sharp breath, Rhiannon stood up, her legs slightly trembling. She walked out into the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, bracing herself for the explosive lecture she deserved. The defensive excuses were already forming in her mind.

But the words in her mouth died down the moment she saw her brother.

The front door was wide open. Spread across the small dining table were heavy tactical vests, specialized steel blades, and military-grade communication gear.

Devon stood over the table, his rugged frame tense as he rapidly packed a heavy duffel bag. He looked hollow—his eyes bloodshot, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days. He wasn't lingering to yell at her; he was actively leaving…?

"Devon?" Rhiannon's voice pitched with worry, her guilt instantly replaced by fear. "What is all this? Where are you going?"

Devon stiffened. He quickly threw a jacket over the weapons, trying to hide the tactical gear from his sister.

"Rhiannon," he said, his voice rough and completely strained. "I told you. The company is deploying me to the eastern frontier. An emergency corporate security contract."

"Corporate security doesn't require military-grade body armor, Devon!" Rhiannon snapped, her explosive, stubborn nature flaring. "You just got back from the city. You promised you’d stay for my senior year. You know I—"

I only have one year left. The words caught in her throat. Rhiannon swallowed them down, forcing the bitter truth back into her lungs. She couldn't remind him of that. She bit her lip and looked away.

Devon watched her swallow the words down, and a sharp, suffocating wave of pity and grief crashed over his soul. He wanted nothing more than to drop his bags, wrap his arms around his little sister, and spend every remaining second by her side. His inner wolf, Fenrir, howled miserably inside his chest.

But he couldn’t stay. He had to do what he had to do. The only way to find a cure, an ancient elixir, or a miracle to save her failing heart was to go back to the Vrykanian border and fight the wars the royal family demanded of him. He had to leave her to save her.

Devon closed the distance between them, his heavy hands coming up to gently grasp her shoulders. His gaze was intensely protective, full of a deep, silent agony she completely misread.

"I have to go, Rhiannon. It’s not a choice," Devon said softly, his voice thick with suppressed emotion as he kissed the top of her head.

"But I'm not leaving you unprotected while I'm away. Especially with the security curfews tightening around the city."

Rhiannon crossed her arms, scoffing, trying to deflect from the lingering guilt of her secret trip. "I'm twenty-one, Devon. I don't need a babysitter while you’re off playing soldier."

"You do," a new voice rumbled through the apartment.

The sound was a deep, dark, aristocratic baritone. It resonated right through the floorboards, hitting Rhiannon’s chest with a force that made her breath hitch.

A sharp, familiar ache pulsed beneath her ribs.

Rhiannon turned around slowly.

Standing in the narrow doorway of their apartment was a man who looked entirely out of place, yet terrifyingly supreme.

He was dressed in an immaculate, hyper-expensive tailored black suit. His broad chest and narrow waist radiated a lethal, predatory elegance. He looked like someone who could buy the entire country with a single signature—and burn it down for fun.

His piercing, hypnotic obsidian eyes locked onto her with a dangerous, heavy intensity.

Something about the slope of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the way the dim hallway light hit his face—it made her stomach clench with a fear she couldn't explain.

‘Have I seen him before?’

Tucked neatly beneath his crisp white collar, entirely hidden from her view, was the coiling black serpent tattoo.

Rhiannon took an involuntary step backward.

"Rhiannon, this is Theron Vance," Devon introduced, his voice tight. "He's an old, influential childhood friend of mine from the city. He’s also the primary benefactor for Blackthorne University this semester."

Theron didn't look at Devon. His dark, suffocating gaze remained glued to Rhiannon’s face. His nostrils flared subtly.

His attention tracked almost imperceptibly to the left side of her neck. To the small crescent-shaped mole resting against her pale skin.

No mark there—just her smooth skin. The possessive instinct clawed viciously through him.

His jaw tightened once. Then his expression smoothed back into place.

"A childhood friend?" Rhiannon echoed, her open-mouthed, defiant nature overriding her sudden nervousness. She looked Theron up and down, glaring at his arrogant posture.

"He looks less like a friend and more like a corporate shark who lost his way into the slums."

Devon choked on his breath, his eyes widening in pure terror. Nobody spoke to the King like that. Not in front of him.

But Theron didn't flinch.

Instead, a slow, dangerously beautiful smirk touched the corner of his sharp lips. He found himself utterly captivated by her explosive defiance.

Inside his mind, Acheron—the ancient, terrifying Lycan who had never bowed to anyone—rolled over and purred.

'She's perfect,' the beast rumbled. 'Absolutely perfect. Mark her! Mark her!’

‘Quiet.’

Theron took a slow, calculated step forward, invading her personal space until the scent of dark forest mint and his raw authority completely enveloped her.

He towered over her. She had to tilt her chin up just to meet his eyes.

He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a dark, unholy purr—which he quickly masked with cold formality.

"A corporate shark, am I?" Theron murmured, his obsidian eyes flashing with a temporary, dangerous glint of purple-gold almost invisible to the human eye.

"Your brother is paying me a very steep price to ensure your safety while he's gone, little bird. Which means, as of today..."

He leaned down, his face stopping a mere inch from her ear, his hot breath brushing against her pulse point.

"...your life belongs to me."