Chapter 50: Older Brother

Azura’s POV

The garden was quiet. Too quiet.

A heavy, suffocating silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant chirp of a bird that sounded too cheerful for the mood I was in. I sat on the cold stone bench tucked securely behind the old, gnarled oak tree. It was my secret spot, hidden from the main path, where I could be alone with my thoughts, or rather, alone with the terrifying mess my life had become.

I stared at nothing in particular, just letting my eyes glaze over the dirt and grass. The late afternoon sun painted the world in a soft, gentle gold, turning the leaves into shimmering coins, but I barely noticed. My mind was somewhere else. Somewhere much, much darker.

It had been four days since I heard that voice in Genevieve’s secret room, since that cold, slithering whisper had wrapped around my bones and squeezed the breath right out of my lungs.

’Finally...’

I shivered despite the warmth.

Genevieve said she felt something that day. A presence. However, she didn’t mention hearing the voice. Neither did Liona.

So it meant only I did. Only I was haunted by that whisper.

I didn’t tell them about it. What was I supposed to say? I heard a creepy voice, and it sounded happy?

No. I kept it locked away.

I twisted the silver pendant between my fingers, feeling the cool, polished metal press into my skin. The scale was still there, hidden beneath the surface, a secret I couldn’t see but knew was real. Genevieve saw it. She knew it was real. But she didn’t know what it meant, and neither did I.

A voice cut through the silence, loud and entirely too cheerful for my mood.

"You know, sulking in gardens is a lot more effective when you actually look tragic. Right now, you just look... Well, honestly, you look like you’re trying to move a boulder with your mind and failing."

I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid.

My head snapped up so fast my neck hurt.

A man stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the thick trunk of the oak tree like he had been there the whole time, watching me. He had brown hair, slightly messy, looking like he’d just woken up from a nap. Piercings glinted under his lip and in both of his ears, catching the dying light of the sun. His clothes were fine, expensive silk and velvet, but they were dusty, wrinkled, like he’d been traveling for days without stopping to clean up.

And he was smiling. Not politely, nor carefully like the pack members did when they addressed me. Just... smiling. A wide, lazy grin that suggested he found the entire world amusing.

I stared at him, trying to figure out who he was. I didn’t recognize him from the pack.

He stared back, his warm brown eyes taking me in with shameless curiosity.

"Can I help you?" I asked coldly, using my best ’Luna’ voice, the one that usually made people tremble. It had absolutely no effect on him.

"Probably not," he said, pushing off the tree and walking closer, his stride easy and confident. "But I figured I’d give it a shot anyway. I’m a persistent guy."

I turned my face away, staring back at the dirt. "I’m not in the mood for company. Especially not from a stranger."

"Good thing I’m terrible company," he said cheerfully, sitting down on the bench across from me without asking, bringing a scent of rain and horses with him. "You won’t be disappointed. I’m actually the worst. Ask anyone."

I clenched my jaw, trying not to let him get to me. "There are other benches. Other parts of the garden."

"True." He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles, completely comfortable. "But this one has an angry girl. Much more interesting than looking at the bushes."

I shot him a glare that could have withered the oak tree.

He just grinned wider, completely unbothered.

"You’re not going to leave, are you?" I muttered, feeling a headache starting to form behind my eyes.

"Not unless you tell me to." He tilted his head, studying me with those warm brown eyes. "And even then, I might pretend I didn’t hear you. I’m really good at ignoring things I don’t like."

Despite myself, despite the fear and the anger, I almost smiled. The sheer audacity of the man was breathtaking.

I looked away instead, focusing on a leaf drifting down from the tree.

Silence stretched between us again. But it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was just... there. A quiet space.

He didn’t push. Didn’t ask questions about why I was miserable or who I was. Just sat there, leaning back, looking at the sky like he had all the time in the world.

Finally, I broke. The curiosity was eating me alive.

"Why are you here? Really?"

"Honest answer?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I saw you sitting here looking like the world ended. Figured someone should check if you were okay."

"I’m fine," I said, the lie tasting bitter in my mouth.

"Terrible liar," he said immediately, his voice soft. "Honestly, that was painful to listen to."

I looked at him sharply, ready to snap, but I stopped.

He wasn’t mocking me. Wasn’t judging. Just... stating a fact.

"You don’t have to be fine," he said quietly, looking at me with genuine empathy. "Not with me. I don’t care if you’re a mess. I’m a mess."

Something in my chest twisted, a sharp, painful pang.

I didn’t know this man. Didn’t know his name, his rank. But the way he looked at me... it wasn’t a pity. It wasn’t a curiosity.

It was just... kindness.

And I didn’t know what to do with that. I was used to people wanting things from me, or fearing me, or hating me.

"I don’t even know you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling vulnerable.

"Torin." He extended a hand across the gap between us. "Now you do. Pleased to meet you, angry girl."

I stared at his hand. The calluses from holding reins or swords, the strange piercings. Then I looked up at his face, trying to find a catch, trying to find the lie.

He was patient. Waiting.

Slowly, I reached out and took his hand. His grip was warm. Firm. He didn’t hold on too long, just a reassuring pressure before letting go.

"Azura," I said softly, feeling a little less alone.

His smile returned, slower this time. Warmer.

"Azura," he repeated, like he was learning a new language, testing the sound of it on his tongue. "It suits you. Quiet. Strong. Like rain."

I pulled my hand back quickly, heat creeping up my neck, feeling exposed. "You don’t have to say things like that."

"I don’t say things I don’t mean." He leaned back, crossing his arms, looking completely at ease again. "Trust me, I’m annoying, I talk too much, but I’m honest. Too honest sometimes, according to my mother."

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was friendly, playful, and flirty all at once, in a way that was actually... refreshing.

So I said nothing.

He didn’t seem to mind. He started humming a low, tuneless song.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a moment.

I tensed. "Depends on what it is."

"Why do you sit out here alone?"

I looked down at my hands, picking at a loose thread on my dress. "Because it’s easier than being inside. Easier than being in the pack house."

"Easier, how?"

I hesitated. Then, quietly, the truth slips out: "People look at me differently here. Like I’m something that has no good. Something they need to keep away from, or something they need to watch constantly."

He was quiet for a long moment, the playful grin gone.

Then: "Are you dangerous, Azura?"

I looked up sharply, my eyes searching his.

He wasn’t mocking me, nor judging. Just... asking.

"I don’t know," I admitted, the fear leaking into my voice. "Maybe. I did something... I didn’t mean to. And I think I can do it again."

He nodded slowly, accepting it. "Well. For what it’s worth, I’m still sitting here. And I don’t plan on running. I like dangerous things."

Something in my chest loosened, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaping.

I didn’t smile. But I didn’t look away either.

"You’re strange," I said, feeling a smile finally tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah." He grinned. "I get that a lot. But strange is just another word for not boring, right?"

And surprisingly, I felt something close to normal. Comfortable.

****

The sun was setting, turning the garden into a landscape of long, dark shadows by the time I returned to my room. My conversation with Torin had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome.

I was turning the pendant over in my fingers, trying to make sense of the strange day, when a knock came at the door.

"Luna." The guard’s voice was respectful but firm, not that of a casual visitor. "The Alpha requests your presence in his study."

My stomach dropped, the comfortable feeling from the garden instantly evaporating.

"Did he say why?" I asked from where I was sitting on the edge of my bed, not moving toward the door.

"He mentioned the investigation, my lady."

The children.

I stood immediately, the urgency of the situation overriding my fear of Rhydor. "I’ll be there."

****

I pushed open the heavy oak door to Rhydor’s study.

He was at his desk, as always. Maps and reports spread out before him, a chaotic mess of information that he seemed to master completely. His face was stone. Cold. Unreadable. The kind of look that made people think he didn’t have a heart.

He didn’t look up when I entered. He just kept writing with his quill, the scratching sound the only noise in the room.

But someone else did.

Torin.

He was standing by the window, hands in his pockets, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place. When he saw me, his face lit up, a warm grin spreading across his face that made the cold room feel instantly warmer.

"Azura." He said my name like it was a secret between us, something only he and I understood.

Rhydor’s quill stopped moving abruptly.

His jaw tightened, a small muscle jumping in his cheek.

"You’ve met," Rhydor said flatly, finally looking up. His eyes were cold, sharp, looking between Torin and me with intense suspicion.

Torin’s grin widened. "We have. She tolerated me for a whole ten minutes in the garden. I consider that a personal victory."

I blinked, looking between them, trying to make sense of this new development.

Rhydor’s eyes finally lifted from Torin and locked on mine. Cold. Sharp.

"This is Torin," he said curtly. "My cousin."

Cousin.

I looked at Torin again. The resemblance was definitely there, same brown hair, same sharp jawline, same intensity in the eyes, even if Torin’s were warm and Rhydor’s were frozen. I should have seen it before.

"Older cousin," Torin added with a wink, leaning against the window frame. "Just so we’re clear who has more wisdom. Usually."

Rhydor’s expression darkened, a look of pure annoyance crossing his face. "He’s here to help with the investigation."

My breath caught in my throat.

"The children?" I asked, looking from Rhydor to Torin.

Torin’s smile faded, replaced by that serious look I had seen in the garden. He stepped forward, his expression grave now.

"I heard what happened," he said quietly, looking at me. "I’m sorry. I know they mean a lot to you."

I stared at him, feeling a sudden surge of trust.

He didn’t look away.

"I’ll do everything I can to bring them home," he said, his voice firm and sincere. "I promise."

I believed him. In a world full of liars and people who hid secrets, I actually believed him.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Rhydor stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, shattering the moment.

"We start at first light," he said sharply, looking at the papers again, dismissing us. "Don’t be late."

Torin nodded, unfazed. "Wouldn’t dream of it, lil bro."

Rhydor’s eyes flashed, dangerous and cold. "Don’t. Call me that."

Torin just smirked, completely unintimidated.

He turned to me one last time. His expression softened again, flirty and friendly.

"Until next time, Azura."

He walked past me, his hand brushing against mine for just a second, a brief touch.

Then he was gone.

The door closed.

And I was alone.

With Rhydor.

The silence was suffocating, heavy with unspoken tension.

I could feel his eyes on me. Heavy. Intense. Watching me like a hawk.

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to see the coldness in his eyes.

"Azura."

His voice was low. Rough. Unnaturally quiet.

I stopped near the door, not turning.

"Stay away from him."

I turned slowly.

Rhydor was standing now, his hands braced on the desk, leaning forward. His eyes were dark. Burning.

"What?" I whispered, confused and angry.

"You heard me."

My chest tightened, frustration bubbling up. "You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to, Rhydor. Not anymore."

"I’m your Alpha."

"You’re nothing to me," I shot back, the words raw and honest, fueled by weeks of pain and isolation.

The words hung in the air, a physical weight.

His expression didn’t change. But something flickered in his eyes, pain? Anger? It was impossible to tell. I hated how good he was at hiding his feelings.

I turned and walked out, not waiting for a reply, and slammed the door behind me.