CHAPTER 100: SCARY FACE

Kieran’s POV

The warmth of my blanket was a stubborn anchor, and I fought its pull with a lazy groan. Sunlight, entirely too cheerful for my mood, streamed across the room.

The blissful embrace of my dreams was shattered by a persistent tugging on my ankles. I let out a muffled groan, burying my face deeper into the pillow. "Five more centuries," I slurred.

But the tugging didn’t stop. I cracked one eye open to see Kayden, standing at the foot of my bed, diligently dragging me by my feet out from under the warm covers. Morning light glinted off his determined expression.

"Whaaat is it?" I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. I buried my face back into the pillow. "Why are you dragging me? Let a man hibernate."

I peeked to see Kayden let go of my feet, his hands moving with practiced ease. It’s eight o’clock and You’re still sleeping. Why?

"I’m a growing man, Kayden. I can wake up whenever I want. It’s one of life’s simple pleasures." It was a delightful deflection, or so I thought.

His expression didn’t change. He just looked at me, his gaze seeing right through the sunny facade. His fingers moved again, slower this time. Is it because of the news we got two nights ago?

The memory was a cold stone in my gut. Our slave master, the monster... a Thorne. The royal cohorts of the Shadowmere. The curse, a man-made shackle from that bastard and his bloodline.

"Yeah," I admitted, the brightness leaching from my voice. "It’s about that." It was only half the truth. I just wanted to lie here and let the world fade away.

But from the flat, unimpressed look on Kayden’s face, he wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

He studied me for a long moment before his hands lifted again, a new, sly look in his eyes. You still haven’t told us what happened with you and Eleanor. At the strip club.

A jolt, cold and sharp, went through me. Leaning in, her breath a ghost against my ear, uttering those words. The same words he used to say.

A chill, vile and familiar, had crawled down my spine.

I physically shook the thought away, forcing a brilliant, teasing grin back onto my face. "Oh, I see. This isn’t about my beauty sleep at all. You’re just looking for pointers." I waggled my eyebrows. "Asking because you want to perform way better than me when you’re with Eleanor, right? Trying to learn from the master?"

Kayden gave me a look that could wither stone, rolling his eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. He then signed, with deadpan slowness, Maybe.

With a dramatic, groaning stretch, I finally swung my legs out of bed. "Well, you’ll just have to figure out how to satisfy her all by yourself," I declared, my voice dripping with playful bravado. "Some arts are just innate, you know?"

Kayden just shook his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He signed quickly, Keith is waiting for us. Hurry up. And with that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The radiant act was exhausting to maintain alone. I shuffled into the bathroom, the cool tiles a shock against my bare feet. I splashed cold water on my face, the droplets tracing paths through the lingering sleep. Gripping the edges of the sink, I looked up into the mirror.

Why? The question echoed in the silent room. Why is it that even though the man who made our lives hell is dead, he’s still haunting us? For what? We burned his body to dust. We took every precaution. There is no coming back from that.

So why am I scared?

The thought was a bitter pill. I’m not that small, broken boy anymore. I’m not the fifteen-year-old who endured humiliation with a bowed head. We are powerful men now.

We took our stand. We decided we wouldn’t suffer anymore. Maybe that defiant spirit came from parents we never knew. But I don’t care about them. For as long as I can remember, there were no parents. Just servitude, and then... him.

A flicker in the mirror.

My breath hitched.

For a single, heart-stopping second, it wasn’t my reflection. It was his face, sneering back at me from the glass.

I blinked, and it was gone. Just my own wide, frightened eyes staring back.

I hope it’s not what I think. I hope it’s just fatigue, just the shadow of a bad memory.

But the chill that settled deep in my bones felt terrifyingly real.

I finished my morning routine with a forced cheerfulness, pulling on comfortable sweats.

The weekend sometimes was for bonding, and for us, bonding usually involved sweat and a few well-aimed punches. Training and fighting to get better each day.

I stepped out of my room and headed downstairs, my bare feet silent on the floor of the double staircase foyer. Turning left at the bottom, I walked down the long hallway to the gym at the far end. Pushing the door open, I was met with the familiar sounds of controlled exertion. Keith was on the weights, his movements precise and powerful, while Kayden was a blur of motion on the heavy bag.

Keith stopped mid-rep, his cool gaze slicing toward me. "What took you so long?"

"Just more tired than usual, I guess. You know how it is." I didn’t mention the face in the mirror.

Keith didn’t press. He just gave a curt nod. "Get ready to brawl."

I left my shirt discarded on a bench.

I changed into the designated wear, the loose pants comfortable around my waist, my torso bare. Keith and I moved to the open space in the center of the gym. I heard the faint, almost inaudible ting of the system engaging, and the air shimmered as hard-light boundaries rose around us, transforming the space into a perfect fighting ring.

The shift was instantaneous. The air grew heavy, charged. I felt it a split second before I saw him move. I dropped my weight, twisting my torso as Keith’s fist cut through the space where my head had been, the wind of its passage ruffling my hair.

"Whoa! Didn’t even let me chill for a second," I laughed, the sound a little breathless.

Keith didn’t smile. His expression was as cold and focused as ever. "You know that isn’t how we do it." He reset his stance, his eyes narrowed. "Why are you distracted?"

I lunged forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat. "What makes you think I’m distracted?" My fist shot out, a straight, powerful blow aimed at his chest.

Keith didn’t dodge. He braced, taking the hit squarely. The force of the impact pushed him back a few inches, the air whooshing out from the point of contact. "Ever since the news," he stated, his voice level, "you’ve been distracted. Throughout yesterday, you weren’t fully attentive at the company. That isn’t like you."

I swung my leg in a low, sweeping arc, forcing him to adjust his footing. "I’ve just been thinking," I countered, the words coming out between controlled breaths. "About what we should do. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back if we come in contact with the Thorne family. They should pay. They all should pay for what he did to us."

Keith deflected my next strike, his movements economical. "I understand. But you can’t let emotion cloud your judgment. We will find the specific perpetrator in the Thorne family who placed this curse on us. But the only way to identify them is to get close. To get along with them, at least superficially."

A harsh sound escaped me. "That sounds fucking easy for you to say. Have you forgotten what we went through?"

His gaze, cold and unwavering, held mine. "I can never forget. I want revenge just as much as you do. But I won’t pursue it at the cost of a life. Especially not the lives of my brothers." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "You and Kayden know how much I endured for you both. Right?"

I froze, my fighting stance faltering. Of course I knew. I would never forget. Keith had always positioned himself as the shield. He took the brunt of the blows, the worst of the tortures, always stepping in front of Kayden and me.

And that was why the curse had carved its mark into him the most brutally, a permanent, vicious testament to his sacrifice.

I stood there, the fight gone out of me. "And what then?" I asked, my voice low. "If we find the one who did this, how do we force them to take the curse back? What if it’s permanent?"

Keith also relaxed his stance. "When we reach that bridge, we will cross it. For now, we have to become stronger. Fight harder. So we are prepared for the worst." His eyes held a flicker of something that wasn’t entirely cold. "And you know that mating with our fated mate can also help break the curse. It isn’t completely hopeless."

That’s how Keith is. Always thinking ten steps ahead. If not for his unwavering resolve during our survival, our plans for freedom would have crumbled to dust.

But how long can we endure the ghost of that memory? A low growl echoed in my mind, my wolf stirring. It won’t be for too long, he seemed to say. This phase will pass.

I hoped so.

Suddenly, my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, painful drumming. A searing pain erupted across my face, as if my bones were being melted and reshaped. I cried out, collapsing to my knees.

"Oh no," Keith breathed, his voice tight with dread. He was at my side in an instant. "No, it’s happening. His curse."

"Get away from me!" I screamed, the words tearing from a throat that no longer felt like my own. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that consumed every thought. I felt my features twisting, contorting into a shape that was alien and horrifyingly familiar.

When the pain finally receded, leaving me trembling and gasping on the cool gym floor, I raised a shaking hand to my face. The contours were all wrong. I knew without a mirror. I knew because the face I now wore was the face of our dead master.