All Chapters of THE SILENCE OF LYCAN ISLE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Ross stood at the edge of the cliff like a man carved from stone.The sea below was restless, slate-dark and churning, waves crashing against the jagged rocks as if trying to claw their way up to him. Wind snapped at his coat and tugged at his hair, but he did not move. He did not seem to feel it. His hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had gone white.He was alone.Or so he believed.Tiana slowed when she saw him from the path, her breath catching at the sight of his silhouette against the sky. Something was wrong in the way he stood – too rigid, too still, as though he were bracing himself against an invisible blow.“Ross?” she called softly.He did not respond.She stepped closer. “Ross!”Still nothing.He stared out at the water, eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling too fast. His thoughts were loud and merciless – Nathaniel’s voice, Nathaniel’s laughter, the memory of that night forcing its way back with brutal clarity. The truth pressed in on him fro

The study felt different tonight – charged, restless, as if the walls themselves remembered the secrets Ross was about to exhume. Shadows gathered in the corners, lingering like ghosts. Tiana sat on the edge of the leather chair, her palms damp. She had never seen Ross look like this.He stood by the fireplace, his posture rigid, the flames casting a harsh glow over the sharp angles of his face. It wasn’t the controlled and collected Ross she’d grown used to. This Ross looked human. Fractured. Haunted.“Tiana,” he started quietly, “what I’m about to tell you… no one else on this island knows. Not even Mark. Not fully.”The air grew still. Tiana swallowed, her voice soft. “I’m listening.”Ross turned to her, and the look in his eyes was a storm breaking. He drew a slow, shaky breath. “You know Nathaniel disappeared eleven years ago,” he said. “But what you don’t know is what happened before he vanished. And what I did.”The words landed like a blow. Tiana didn’t speak. She held still –

The storm did not break that night, nor the next morning. Instead, it hung over Lycan Isle like a held breath – heavy, swollen, waiting. Tiana woke before dawn, heart pounding from the remnants of a dream she couldn’t fully remember, except for Ross’s voice in it – distant, strained, calling her name as if from underwater.She sat up in the enormous bed, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. The windows were pale with early light and fog, the world outside muted. Everything felt too still. Too expectant.Ross had left early, before she woke. A message waited for her on the small writing table:I need to meet with the council this morning. Stay inside the manor. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. —R.The shortness of it unsettled her. Not cold – but controlled. Tightly so.She dressed quickly, the silence weighing on her as she moved down the hallway. The manor staff were subdued, whispering to one another as she passed. They knew something. They always did.When she reached the gr

Ross did not leave the drawing room for hours.When the manor finally quieted, when the staff retreated and the sea outside began its slow, rhythmic pounding against the cliffs, he remained where Clara had left him – motionless, coiled inward, the walls pressing closer with every thought he could not outrun.Nathaniel’s name echoed relentlessly.Accusation. Threat. Bargain.Marry me.He slammed his fist into the sideboard without warning. The sharp crack split the silence, pain blooming across his knuckles, but it did nothing to quiet the chaos in his head.He paced. Stopped. Paced again.The island had always demanded control from him. Coldness. Distance. He had mastered those things. Built an empire on restraint. But Clara had reached into the one place he had never fortified.Nathaniel.The door creaked softly.Ross turned sharply. “I said I didn’t want—”He stopped.Tiana stood in the doorway.She looked smaller than usual in the dim light, wrapped in one of his coats, her hair lo

The council chamber had always been built to intimidate. Stone walls rose high and unyielding, carved with the signets of Lycan Isle’s founding families. Lanterns burned low along the perimeter, casting shadows that clung to the corners like secrets unwilling to surface. The long table at the centre bore the weight of centuries – judgment passed in hushed tones, destinies shaped without mercy.Ross entered alone. Whispers followed him like smoke.Some of the council members avoided his gaze. Others watched him with open curiosity, sharpened by suspicion. Vivienne Hart sat near the head of the table, composed and immovable. Clara sat beside her, hands folded neatly, expression serene. Too serene.Ross took his place opposite them, posture rigid, face unreadable. He did not sit immediately. “Let’s begin,” he said coldly. “Since you’ve already decided I’m guilty of something.”A murmur rippled through the room.Vivienne inclined her head slightly. “This council exists to preserve order,