CHAPTER 48: CHAPTER 48: RHYDRIC’S CORE I

Chapter 48: RHYDRIC’s CORE

Azrael finally shifted, his eyes flicking sideways to Eryx. Sharp and piercing. "What did you do to her?"

His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried weight, an edge that cut clean.

Eryx raised his brows, feigning innocence. "Do to her?" He chuckled, the sound light, infuriatingly casual. "I didn’t do anything."

Azrael’s stare didn’t waver. He saw the truth in Athena’s flushed cheeks, the way she’d fled the room, the unsteady rhythm of her breath. Something had happened, but he couldn’t prove it. He wasn’t blind.

But Eryx’s grin held steady, sharp and mischievous.

For a long moment, Azrael didn’t move. The air between them vibrated with unspoken tension. He could see through Eryx’s lie but he didn’t press further.

And then, just as suddenly, Azrael looked away. His shoulders shifted, and his tone dropped, almost bitter, calm but cold. "The full moon is coming soon."

The way he said it, it wasn’t just a statement. It was heavy, sharp, like he loathed every letter that left his mouth.

Eryx’s grin faded a little, his eyes narrowing as he leaned on the wall lazily. "Yeah... guess all the little wolves who can’t keep their shit together will have to stay locked up." His tone was casual, teasing as always, but his eyes flicked knowingly at Azrael.

Azrael’s head turned back to him, those electric blue eyes glowing faintly. "Not just them. Even older wolves,strong ones. They lock themselves away too. Control doesn’t mean you’re free from the pull."

There was a silence. Heavy.

Then, as Azrael started to turn away, his shoulders tense, Eryx called after him, voice less mocking this time. "Hey... look, you don’t have to face your father’s bullshit alone this time."

Azrael stopped, his back still to him. His hands curled into fists at his sides before he muttered, almost like it burned to admit it. "Dad won’t stop until, I become what he’s. He wouldn’t bat an eye, until I make peace with my monster. He wouldn’t stop until he makes me more of him and less of my mom. The frustration in his voice cracked through, raw and unfiltered.

He was damn sure his father wouldn’t stop until he make him the monster he is. That maniac of a dad, would make sure he lose every bit of control he had left, heaven knows what he would do this time to provoke his wolf.

Eryx tilted his head, lips twitching, before his grin came back. "Tch. You talk like a brooding prince from some cheap drama. Careful, Az, you’re gonna make the girls cry with those tragic lines."

Azrael slowly turned his head, glare sharp enough to slice through steel. "Fuck you."

Azrael had never felt the urge to bury his claws inside someone before like he was feeling now. There was no serious moment with Eryx and Theodore. They’re both insufferable.

Eryx chuckled. "Nah, you couldn’t handle me."

Azrael shoved a hard hand into his chest, making Eryx stumble back a step. "You’re insufferable, you arrogant bastard."

Eryx only laughed louder, throwing an arm around Azrael’s shoulder like he wasn’t just shoved, grinning like a fool."Relax, pretty boy. You’re already scary enough without the dramatics."

Azrael growled, shoving at his arm. "Get your filthy hand off me before I snap it in half."

Eryx only tightened the hold, his other hand reaching up to ruffle Azrael’s ocean-patterned hair like he was a damn kid. "Aw, don’t be shy. You look cute when you pout."

"Fuck off, Eryx."

"Nah. You love me."

"Go burn yourself in your own damn flames."

"Romantic." Eryx smirked, still laughing, while Azrael cursed him under his breath in every language he knew, lips twitching despite himself.

For a brief second, the tension broke, just two wolves walking down the hall, one cursing, the other laughing like a maniac.

Rhydric Veylor was sitting in his big study room. The place was huge, and it gave off this dark, mafia-like vibe. It screamed Rhydric in every corner. Tall shelves climbed the walls, filled with books, so many books. Old books, novels, history, werewolf tales, dark blood, even romance. If anything showed how much he loved to read, it was this room. His obsession was written all over the shelves.

But he wasn’t reading now.

He was sitting in silence, holding a small piece of cloth between his fingers.

The kerchief. The one he had once given to Athena. The one she had returned.

He stared at it like it was something fragile, something alive. His sharp, dangerous eyes softened in a way no one ever got to see. Like the cloth held a secret only he could understand. Like it carried more weight than all the books stacked around him.

It still had her scent. That sweet lavender lingered on the kerchief.

His jaw tightened as he brought it closer to his nose. Slowly. Almost reverently. He closed his eyes and inhaled, letting her faint fragrance burn through him. His chest rose, his shoulders stiffened, and still he held it there, breathing it in like he was starving and this was the only thing keeping him alive.

Pathetic. A voice inside him mocked. An Alpha losing himself over a girl’s scent? But still he couldn’t stop. Her scent was intoxicating and addictive.

Across the room, Ian, one of Rhydric’s beta, stood quietly, leaning against the wall. He had been there for a while, watching. At first, he thought Rhydric was just distracted, maybe tired. But as the minutes stretched longer and longer, he realized what was happening. His Alpha, the man feared for his coldness and control, was sitting in silence... sniffing a kerchief.

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. Unbelievable. Out of all things I thought I’d see today... this isn’t one of them?

He watched Rhydric close his eyes again, inhaling deeply, and Ian almost groaned out loud. The whole room felt like a graveyard, suffocating with silence, and his Alpha was sitting there like a man possessed.

Finally, Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t going to sit here and watch his Alpha destroy his reputation. Not now, not ever.

"Are you serious right now?" His voice cut through the silence, sharp and dry. "You’re really just... going to sit there sniffing your own kerchief like that?"

No answer. Not even a twitch.

Rhydric kept his eyes closed, his long fingers curling around the cloth as if it might vanish. He inhaled again, steady, controlled, like Ian’s voice was nothing but the wind outside.

Ian’s brow twitched. "For fuck’s sake, Rhydric, it’s a kerchief. A piece of cloth. Not the damn girl herself."

Still nothing. Not even a glare this time.

Ian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. This man... this Alpha... this idiot.

He stepped forward, tone turning more taunting, more annoyed. "So what’s the plan? You going to sit here forever? Marry the kerchief? Or maybe build a shrine to it and bury yourself with it instead of getting back to your damn books?"

For a second, Rhydric’s fingers tightened around the cloth. His chest rose and fell once, deep and sharp, but his eyes stayed closed.

Ian smirked faintly. He had hit a nerve.

"Look at you," Ian added, shaking his head. "The great Rhydric Veylor. Alpha of his pack. Feared by everyone. Yet here you are, obsessed like some lovesick boy who doesn’t know what to do with himself."

That’s when Rhydric finally cracked an eye open. Then both.

Cold. Piercing. Sharp enough to cut.

It was the kind of look that could silence a whole room. But Ian had been under his command long enough not to flinch.

Rhydric didn’t speak yet. Instead, he slowly lowered the kerchief, setting it on his lap. His eyes never left Ian’s. The weight of his gaze alone was enough to remind Ian who he was dealing with.

Inside, though, Rhydric’s thoughts burned. Athena. Her scent. Her presence. Why the hell can’t I get her out of my system?

But he said nothing. He only leaned back slightly in his chair, like a king humoring a fool.

Ian sighed, throwing his hands up, ignoring the chill he felt in his bone, when rhydric’s eyes cracked open. "Unbelievable. I’m telling you, boss, if anyone else saw this, they wouldn’t believe it. The mighty Rhydric, undone by a girl’s scent."

Rhydric’s lips curved, faint and sharp. Not a smile. A warning.

"Careful, Ian." His voice was low, edged like a blade. "Or the next book I bury myself in... might be the one I write using your blood."

Ian froze for a second, then chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "See? That’s the Rhydric I know. Cold and scary. Not... sniffing things like a man about to lose his sanity."

But deep down, Ian was thinking the same thing. If a piece of cloth can do this to him... what the hell is going to happen when the actual girl is around?