CHAPTER 194: _ THE DUAL WOLF PROPHECY

The Headmaster’s smile doesn’t move at first. It remains pinned there. Then, slowly, he exhales through his nose, as though Darien’s ignorance offends him on an artistic level.

"Perhaps," Halric says, lacing his fingers together like a priest about to deliver a sermon, "the reason I didn’t mention anything, Mr. Bellamy, is because it’s a highly confidential matter. One that wasn’t supposed to reach anyone’s ears outside the Pack Council."

Darien’s pulse jumps. Pack Council?

The air in the room thickens, carrying that expensive, sterile scent of disinfectant and old varnish. Outside, the campus bells toll the hour, hollow and distant. Darien leans forward, planting both hands on the desk, making it creak faintly beneath his weight.

"Well," he begins calmly but with the dangerous hum of Kairos growling beneath it, "my father is the Alpha. I think that makes him part of that council you’re talking about."

Halric’s eyes flick up, bright with mockery. "Yes," he agrees softly. "And that’s precisely what makes it all the more confusing, isn’t it? Because, if memory serves, your father would very much like to keep this particular matter away from his family."

Darien’s body goes still. It’s a slow, lethal stillness that makes Halric’s lips twitch, amused.

If there’s a matter of importance in the pack—political or not, his father trusts in his abilities enough to fill him up on them. The reason for his lack of knowledge about whatever Halric is on about only dredges Darien into confusion.

He decides Halric could be lying. Or maybe not lying — just dancing around the truth like it’s a game he’s been waiting years to play.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Darien asks, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to keep himself from hitting the man’s head on the wall behind him.

Halric shrugs with infuriating grace. "Merely that your father has always been... selective about what his sons are allowed to know." He leans back, tapping one finger against his temple. "And this—this girl seems to be one of those things he’d rather you didn’t ask too many questions about."

Darien’s throat burns. Heidi’s face flashes behind his eyes; that stubborn, sharp, infuriating, albeit, beautiful Moon Blessed. The thought of his father, his father, meddling in whatever mess she’s tangled in feels wrong in a way that makes his stomach knot.

It’s definitely no longer about the NAY boys’ sisters anymore. Could it be... could it be that the pack already found out she’s fated to all four Alpha heirs?

No. No. No.

Darien shakes the thought away. If that were so, it wouldn’t be handled so discreetly, would it?

"What could he possibly have to do with her?" he demands, articulating his thoughts. "She’s a Moon Blessed, not even a real Castell, not a Bellamy, not anyone."

Halric murmurs, tilting his head, "Ah, but that’s precisely what makes her interesting, isn’t it? A nobody who has managed to catch the attention of the most powerful man in the pack."

What fucking sick joke is this?!

Darien slams a hand on the desk. The sharp crack echoes through the room. The headmaster doesn’t flinch, but the gold pen rattles against its holder, rolling to the edge.

"Stop talking in riddles, Varrow."

The man raises his brows, unconcerned. "And yet, that’s the only language you Alphas seem to understand."

Darien’s teeth grind. Kairos paces behind his skull, restless and furious.

"Enough," Darien says. "I came here to make sure the girl isn’t expelled for defending herself against those feral Nays, and you’re standing here talking about—what, conspiracies? Council secrets?"

Halric sighs, going thoughtful. His expression changes subtly as a faint glint of calculation replaces the amusement. "Oh. There’s a situation as such in this school? I hadn’t even been informed of that. Are you saying that’s why you’re here?"

Darien narrows his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Halric continues, fingers drumming on his desk now, "when you stormed in here so full of righteous fury, I assumed—foolishly, perhaps, that you’d already been briefed."

"Briefed?" Darien repeats, further dredging deeper in confusion. .

"Yes. On the matter of your little Moon Blessed friend." He studies Darien for a moment, and then, very deliberately... he leans forward. "But judging by the expression on your face... you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?"

Something shifts in the atmosphere between them.

Darien’s body language changes to the tight posture of someone who’s no longer just angry but dangerously close to snapping. The muscles in his jaw work. The veins in his hands thrum with heat.

"Careful. You’re starting to sound like you think you’re smarter than me."

Halric chuckles softly. "Perish the thought."

The chuckle dies quickly, though, because Darien takes a step closer — one, then another, until he’s standing directly beside the desk. His shadow spills across the papers, the smooth, dark surface swallowing the light.

Kairos snarls, audible only to Darien: "Break his neck. We can do more than that for our mate. Make him say what he knows. He’s hiding something."

Darien grips the edge of the desk instead, anchoring himself. His voice drops to a quiet, lethal murmur. "You’re going to stop dancing around my questions, Headmaster. And you’re going to tell me what exactly this is about."

The air is so still it could break.

Halric’s eyes dart briefly toward the door just a whiff. It’s a reflex of a man starting to panic under the aura of the Alpha wolf before coming back to Darien’s face. Then, with a sigh that sounds more resigned than afraid, he says, "Fine."

He adjusts his cufflinks. "If this is because she’s the one mentioned in the prophecy, there’s nothing I can do to help her. That’s well out of my hands."

The words drop like stones into water. Prophecy? What the hell?

Darien blinks. The silence that follows is heavy until the sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears.

"The... what?" he says, flatly.

Halric lifts a brow. "The prophecy."

"What prophecy?" Darien’s tone is incredulous and almost a snarl. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Halric gives him that maddening, pitying look. It’s the kind that says you poor, uninformed child. "I forget that not everyone in your generation studies history," he says lightly. "Or perhaps your father decided it wasn’t relevant to your... training."

"Say it," Darien demands.

"Why?" Halric leans back, smiling faintly. "So you can run to your father and tell him the headmaster broke council confidentiality? I’m not suicidal."

Why that...

Darien’s hand shoots out, grabbing the man by his tie and yanking him half over the desk. The pen holder topples, scattering pens like knives.

Halric gasps, his smirk finally breaking. "Lord—Lord Bellamy..."

Darien’s voice is a rasp. "Do I look like I’m here to file a report?"

The headmaster’s throat bobs. The scent of his fear overrides that of his cologne. His hands come up, palms open. "Alright," he breathes. "Alright. I’ll tell you what I know. But you won’t like it."

Darien releases him roughly. Halric falls back into his chair, straightening his collar with shaking fingers, though his pride remains mostly intact.

"The prophecy," Halric begins in a slower and more cautious tone, "is an old one. One most packs consider myth. It speaks of a werewolf born with two wolves. Two souls. A creature of impossible power, one destined to bring every authority in the pack system to its knees."

He pauses. "And, according to some, to end the age of the Bellamy line as Alphas entirely."

What in the blazes of thunderstorms?!

Darien’s stomach flips. "Dual wolves?"

Halric’s eyes gleam. "Yes. A curse and a blessing. The prophecy says the child would rise among the ones touched by the Moon Blessed. A nobody. Unnoticed. Until the day her power reveals itself."

Darien stares at him. He wants to laugh — except nothing about Halric’s expression says this is a joke.

"So," he says slowly, "you’re telling me the girl who can’t go three days without starting a fight is supposed to be some mythical destroyer of Alphas?"

Halric shrugs, lips twitching again. "I said you wouldn’t like it."

Darien exhales sharply, pushing away from the desk. His head feels like it’s full of static. He paces the width of the office once, twice, the soles of his boots clicking against the marble.

Kairos is quiet for once, listening.

"This is insane," Darien mutters. "You’re insane."

"Perhaps." Halric’s smile returns, happy he’s finally had something to rattle the Bellamy menace before him. "But whether you believe it or not, the Council does. And if they’re right..." He lets the thought hang in the air like smoke.

Darien stops pacing. "If they’re right, then what?"

Halric folds his hands again, composure fully restored. "Then, my dear Lord Bellamy... the little Moon Blessed you’re so concerned about might just be the end of your kind."

Darien’s breath ceases just for a second. He stares at the man, and suddenly the room feels smaller.

The chandelier above them flickers once, throwing fractured light across Halric’s pale face.

For the first time in a long while, Darien doesn’t know what to say.

Heidi?

Heidi, with her temper, her recklessness, her fire... the girl who couldn’t even stay out of trouble for two days straight... that Heidi is supposed to be the harbinger of doom?

It sounds ridiculous.

It also sounds... exactly like her.