Chapter 138: _ It’s Time
To Darien, if Amias lets himself get involved with Heidi, that would mean dragging a dagger into his mother’s social life himself. Amias and his mother are the most hated and disliked Luna and heir by the whole pack. They don’t even have the power to fight the officials and even the Alpha himself who would throw a fit should an Alpha heir claim a low-class girl.
However, more importantly, it’d mean giving up his right to become the Alpha. It’d mean sliding the winning card to Darien’s mother who would snatch it up immediately should Amias lose Lira or not marry some nearby pack’s Alpha daughter.
The only thing keeping Amias and his mother afloat is that he’s the eldest and has Lira—even though that, Darien has come to find, is nothing but a farce.
"Where the hell are you running to?" Darien demands in an annoyed tone as if anger will disguise the worry lacing his tone.
Amias narrows his eyes. "I could ask the same of you."
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Brothers. Rivals. Mates with the same girl. Both pretending not to know what the other already does.
Darien’s fists clench. He wants to say it—you’re worried about her too. But the words stick in his throat. Instead, he scoffs and pushes past.
"Forget it."
He doesn’t look back. Heck, he just can’t. Because just then, the overhead speakers crackle, and a voice booms across the Academy:
"The labyrinth portal is reopening. Survivors will be released shortly."
And Darien’s chest nearly caves in. Because now he’ll know whether she made it. Whether his sacrifice meant anything. Whether Heidi, the girl he can’t stop hurting and yet, can’t stop needing, will step back into this world alive.
Darien strides through the dimly lit corridor, the soles of his boots thudding against the stone. As he walks, he hears the words like a countdown in his ears. His chest is tight, and Kairos prowls inside him with restless energy, claws scraping against the edges of his control. The closer he gets to the courtyard, the more suffocating the air feels. The portal is being reopened, and any second now... he’ll know.
He’ll know if she’s alive.
The thought tastes like iron in his mouth.
Other students shuffle alongside him, some in pairs, others in groups, buzzing with the kind of anxious chatter that fills a silence too heavy to bear. They’re all here for the same reason: to see who survived.
"Darien!"
His name suddenly booms through the noise, making him pause. He turns and finds his sister, Isolde.
She’s hurrying toward him with uneven steps, the long black coat she’s wearing today, trailing behind like wings frayed at the edges. Normally, she wears her darkness like armor with all that gothic makeup, sharp eyeliner, and lips painted in a perfect shade of black. Today, though, her armor is cracked. Dark circles hollow her eyes, her lids are heavy, and mascara is smudged in a way that isn’t intentional. She looks... wrecked.
And guilt punches him square in the gut.
He remembers how she had been knocking all night. Hell, it was one hell of a soft knocking at first, then it grew louder. He hadn’t opened his door. He hadn’t even answered. He’d shut her out completely, locked himself in his own worry and his own selfish spiral.
"Isolde..." His voice comes out rough, softer than usual. It aches to see his sister this way.
Hence, he slows his pace and waits for her to catch up. She stops in front of him, catching her breath. There’s a usual glow on her face that is nowhere to be found this morning. Instead, her gaze guardedly flicks over him. "You heard the announcement?"
"Yeah," he says. "You’re heading to the courtyard too?"
"Of course." Her tone is sharp, but the sharpness is thin and brittle, like a glass that is about to shatter. She folds her arms across her chest, sleeves swallowing her hands. "Where else would I be?"
Darien studies her. There’s something about her eyes. There’s more than tiredness in them. They’re heavy with the same dread that’s been chewing through him for twenty-four hours.
Kairos presses forward, sniffing at her energy. "She’s scared too," the wolf murmurs, ears flicking. "She fears she’ll lose someone."
W-what? Isolde? That’s... new.
Darien’s stomach twists. Could Isolde just be fearing for the lives of the Moon Blessed? Of course she would. The Moon Blessed weren’t just thrown into that labyrinth as names on a list. They were faces and people. Some Isolde knew, even if she pretended not to care... like Heidi.
Maybe only Heidi.
"You should’ve opened the door," she mutters suddenly, not looking at him. Her words are quiet, but the emotions behind them, the way the guilt drops on him, make him want to punch himself in the face.
"I knocked until my knuckles hurt." She finishes.
Darien feels the sting of shame ripple through his chest. "I know," he says. He rubs a hand over his jaw, searching for words, but his throat feels scraped raw. "I just..."
"Needed to be alone." She cuts him off, her lips twisting into a humorless half-smile. "Classic Darien. Lock yourself up, brood like some tragic Byronic hero while the rest of us are left wondering."
Normally, he’d snap back, throw some biting remark to keep her at arm’s length. But right now, he can’t muster it. He just looks at her, really looks at her, and sees past the smudged eyeliner and sarcasm. She’s been worrying too. Maybe about the same person. Maybe not. But she understands the weight.
"I’m sorry," he says instead, surprising even himself.
Isolde blinks, caught off guard. For a moment, silence stretches between them. Then she lets out a small but real laugh. "Wow. Darien Bellamy, apologizing. Write it down, someone."
"Don’t get used to it," he mutters, but his lips twitch in almost a smile.
Darien cuts a glance at her again. She’s biting her lip and that’s certainly her style. "So, Issy, you okay?"
Her head jerks, like she wasn’t expecting the question. "What do you mean?"
"You said you needed a distraction." He raises a brow. "From what?"
"Nothing," she says too quickly, waving a pale hand as though she’s batting the thought away like a gnat. "Forget it."
Darien narrows his eyes. Liar. There’s weight under her words, shadows she won’t let him see. And he hates it. Hates being shut out. He wants to press and demand before realizing Issy is just like a feminine version of him. Moreover, the crowd swallows her answer before he can corner her.
They step out into the courtyard. The place is already thrumming with students clustering in cliques, teachers arriving with stiff faces and the tang of magic thickening the air as the portal framework hums in preparation.
The courtyard itself feels like an arena, an amphitheater of gossip and dread.
Isolde sighs, pressing her dark-painted lips together. "Crazy, isn’t it?"
Her eyes scan the bustle, her voice carrying a bitterness that makes Darien’s heart ache. "I mean, how it seems like the Bellamys have everything. But we’re all sad. Except the twins... they live their lives to the fullest. And maybe Daphne. She’s got everything a girl could need."
Darien’s chest twinges at her words. He feels the pain behind them. It’s the kind of pain that’s quieter than a blade but sharper than guilt. He turns to her, stopping in the flow of bodies.
"Issy." He clicks his jaw.
She looks up, brow arched.
"I love both my little sisters..."
He begins, and his throat is dry because he doesn’t say things like this often. "But if you think Daphne has everything, then guess how you look in my eyes. You’re literally the best person in the world. You’ve got the best personality, the best qualities anyone could ask for."
Her mouth parts slightly, disbelief flashing across her pale features. And then, to his surprise, she sighs melancholically. "But I don’t have the beauty. Or the charm."
WHAT?!
Darien can do nothing but stare unblinkingly. Isolde, his fierce, witty, dark-spirited sister caring about beauty? His brain rejects it on instinct. This isn’t her. She’s the one who sneers at beauty pageants, who mocks Daphne’s vanity, who wears black lipstick to funerals and school assemblies alike because she can.
Shock rattles him. He opens his mouth to counter, to tell her she’s wrong, she’s stunning in her own wicked way, when movement cuts across his peripheral vision.
Oh, it’s Daphne.
She sweeps into the courtyard like she owns the place with Lira in her graceful sheen at her side. Trailing behind them like a pack of glossy shadows are the NAY boys; Nash, Ace, Yulian... well, urm—also known as Lucan and their sisters; Sierra, Maribel, and Ginny.
The most annoying crew in the entire school.
They’re laughing, tossing their hair with so much energy that it contrasts with the tension of the courtyard like champagne bubbles fizzing at a funeral.
Isolde’s shoulders shrink a little at the sight of them. Darien can’t make out which one of them invoked such a reaction among them. It certainly can’t be her sister.
Why would Isolde repulse at the sight of Daphne?
Darien’s hand twitches at his side. Even Darien doesn’t like the shift in his sister’s posture. He doesn’t like the way Daphne’s presence can turn Isolde’s confidence into ash.
Darien swallows back a growl and steels himself. Whatever it is, he’ll find out later. But for now, Amias is here and so is the headmaster and Lady Mirenia, ready and awaiting the Moon Blessed to emerge.
Heidi...