Page 36 of Runt of the Pack
Fully dressed, I make my way silently into the hall, zoning in unerringly on Gavriil’s location. Pale light filters in through the arched windows lining the corridor. A ghostly gleam falls on our ancestors’ stern faces as they peer down from their oil paintings hung in gilded frames. The study’s polished walnut doors hang slightly ajar, a familiar silhouette visible through the gap. I push them open and step inside.
“Brother. It’s good to see you awake,” Gavriil says, waving me into his lavish office. He wraps up a call, then sets down the phone, his expression inscrutable. He’s dressed immaculately as always, in a black bespoke suit and turtleneck, wearing it like ill-fitting armor. The outfit’s darkness only enhances the new creases and scars etched into his face and the hollowness in his eyes. Cruel devastation consumes him, a sight I have never witnessed before. Without question, the loss of Luciana has ripped Gavriil’s very soul apart.
I approach the broad desk, taking in the organized stacks of papers and maps. “How long was I out?” I grumble.
“Nearly a week. That last clash was... grueling.” His tone makes it clear I needn’t recount the bloody specifics. “Enrico’s forces continue monitoring the situation, but the enemy is largely subdued now.”
I absorb this quietly. My reckless push to reclaim Anya brought us to the brink. If not for Gavriil’s reinforcements... I suppress a shudder at how close I came to losing everything.
A question surfaces through the fog of my memories. “What of Roan? Is he imprisoned for his crimes?”
Gavriil’s expression shutters as he rises from the seat. He turns away under the pretense of stoking the hearth fire. “Unfortunately, after we brought him here, he attempted to escape.” His knuckles go white on the iron poker. “He injured several of my men before we could restrain him again.”
When he faces me once more, his eyes are hard as flint. “There was no choice after that. Roan had proven too dangerous to keep alive.” His mouth thins. “We had to put an end to it.”
I nod slowly, reading the truth between his terse words. Roan is dead by my brother’s command. One less demon to haunt this world.
“You did what was necessary,” I say firmly. “Some threats cannot be contained.”
Gavriil’s rigid shoulders relax slightly at the indulgence in my tone. His piercing stare meets mine with a sense of relief.
“Listen, Gavriil…” I stammer, my voice trembling with emotion. “I am forever in your debt. Had you not arrived with your Elite team—”
He cuts me off with a raised hand, mouth tightening. “You would have done the same for me.” His shoulders curve inward slightly before he recovers. “Hell… you already did.”
“Brother,” I hurry to say, reaching his desk in two long strides. “The gods know I had my reservations about your union with Luciana. But I would never—ever—forsake your mate.” The weight of my words hangs heavy in the air, stirring up painful memories and overwhelming guilt within me. “I failed...” My voice drops to a whisper. “I have failed you and our clan.”
I grip the desk’s smooth slab of maple wood to steady myself.
Gavriil’s intense gaze pierces through me, his silence stretching on for what feels like an eternity.
Finally, he speaks in a low growl, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I know what happened, Vlad.”
I start. “What do you mean?” I ask, heart bolting into a gallop.
He turns towards the window, shoulders rigid. When he speaks again, his tone is clipped, controlled. “Right after the attack, when...” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. His pain is too raw, too overwhelming to put into words. Gavriil swallows hard, then continues in a wry tone. “Grisha came after me next. I fought back with all my might, and as I did, I recognized the fresh damage on him.” He pauses. “Your scent was fixed on every dire gash and mottled bruise on his filthy pelt.” He gives me a small, lopsided smile before walking around the desk to stand in front of me.
“That is how I know,” he continues, a glint of pride flickering in his darkened gaze. “You gave every ounce of your strength in that battle, Vlad.” His hand lands on my shoulder and presses it firmly. When it slides to cup my cheek, I know the empath in him is reading me like an open book—and I hold nothing back. All my guilt, sorrow, and grief pour forth, as I understand the immense pain of losing one’s fated mate. This tragedy will weigh on him for eternity. It’s already reshaped him into a different man. Formidable, yet tormented.
His eyes glisten with forthcoming tears, but he fights them back with fierce determination. “My brother,” Gavriil’s voice is low and soothing, “you fought valiantly.”
I grip his arm, emotion choking my voice. “Gavriil...” I’m sorry I could not save Luciana. The words feel wholly inadequate for a grief so profound.
“I’m afraid I must leave you,” he cuts me off, his walls rising once more. “I’ve been summoned to Paris for a meeting with the Deveraux witches. I’m taking Samara with me... You’re welcome to stay for as long as you wish.” He gives me a meaningful stare. “This will always be your home, Volodya.” A brief smile curls the corner of his lips.
With that, he spins on his heels, heading towards the doorway.
“What became of Grisha?” I force out, lest the restless question consumes me.
“I gave him the end he deserved,” he replies cryptically. With a casual flick of his hand, he tosses on a rich black fur coat. As the luxurious material settles over his shoulders, I catch the faintest musky scent rising from it—it’s unmistakable.
I remain frozen as realization dawns. “Wait,” I gasp in shock and disbelief. “Is that...?”
Gavriil throws me a malicious grin, his eyes shadowed with intense hatred.
I don’t need to hear him say it. The fur coat draped across his broad shoulders—it was fashioned from Grisha’s pelt. It’s become my brother’s trophy, a symbol of his ruthless power. But also, a cruel reminder of the sacrifice he’s made and can never take back.
“Oh.” He stops abruptly at the doorway, eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. “Do take a stroll in the courtyard,” he suggests with a sly smirk. “I have a feeling you'll find it quite enchanting this morning.”
