Kieran's POV

I stared at my mother, my mind caught between disbelief and the faintest flicker of hope.

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "Cyrin told me he's dead. My father.… the Alpha King… he killed himself." The words felt bitter in my mouth. "Adrian confirmed it too, said he got to him with his mind controlling powers. The story rhymed so I didn't question it. The royal castle wouldn't have been taken by the Lycan King if Father was still alive. That place was his fortress. No one could take it from him while he lived."

But my mother's eyes, clear, unclouded by bloodlust, didn't waver. She just stared at me like she was seeing through every word I said.

"Kieran," she said quietly, "did you see your father's dead body?"

I faltered, my throat tightening. Slowly, I shook my head. ".…No."

Her voice sharpened, urgent but not angry. "Then how could you believe he is truly gone when you've never seen his body?"

I had no answer. My mind scrambled, reaching for something, anything, to back up what I'd been told. But she didn't give me the chance.

"I have proof that he is still alive," she said, leaning closer. "I can still feel the mate bond pulsating in my head." Her eyes glistened with something that wasn't just hope, it was certainty. "I would have been able to contact him or trace him with the bond, but my wolf is locked up, so the connection isn't as strong right now. But it's there, Kieran. It's there. That bond has not broken. And you know what that means."

I swallowed hard. The mate bond. A connection so deep and primal that even death couldn't imitate it, when it broke, it left a void so profound it could shatter a person's soul. She was right. If she could still feel it….

"What is your proof," she asked suddenly, "that your father is dead?"

I froze. I actually had no proof

My mind went back to the moment Cyrin told me, through the phone call. To Adrian's smug smirk when he'd confirmed it. To the bitter acceptance that had settled over me without a fight. But… none of that was proof. No body. No final farewell. Just words.

My mouth went dry. "I…." My voice trailed off, useless.

She watched me, her gaze unwavering.

I had nothing.

The truth hit me like ice water down my spine, I had simply believed them. No questions. No doubts. They'd told me my father was dead, and I'd accepted it like some obedient soldier.

My stomach twisted.

I thought about my father, his towering presence, the way his voice could silence a room, the way his hand on my shoulder could make me feel both small and unbreakable at the same time. The Alpha King. My father. And now my mother was telling me there was a chance he was still alive.

And I couldn't ignore that part of me, deep down, that wanted.... needed, her to be right.

So I was already on my feet before my mother could blink.

"I'm going back to the royal castle," I said, my voice low but unshakable.

"I'll search for him myself… even if it means cutting my way through every Crimson Hunt soldier standing between me and the truth."

The thought of him, alive, out there, somewhere, burned in my chest like wildfire. The idea that I might be sitting here while he suffered was unbearable. I could already feel my claws itching to tear through crimson stained armor.

But before I could take a single step, her hand gripped my forearm. My mother's touch was firm but trembling. "No."

I turned on her, my jaw tight. "No? You expect me to sit here while they..."

"We are not doing that, Kieran," she interrupted, shaking her head slowly. Her voice was calm, but her eyes… they were sharp, unyielding, like the steel of a blade that had seen too many battles. "That would be reckless."

I bit back the growl building in my throat. "Then what should we do, Mother? Sit here and wait? If he's really alive, we must find him." My hands curled into fists at my sides, the tendons in my arms taut. "Every second we waste could be the second they end him."

She nodded once, her expression softening only slightly. "Yes. We must find him."

Hope flickered in my chest for the briefest moment before she continued.

"But we must be smart about it, Kieran." She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a warning whisper only I could hear. "These are slippery times. One wrong move, one wrong word, and you'll hand your enemies the blade to slit your own throat."

I hated it. I hated that she was right.

Her gaze bore into mine, unwavering. "The Crimson Hunt's greatest weapon is infiltration. They don't always come with swords drawn, they come in smiles, in friendly faces, in trusted hands. That means everyone is a potential enemy."

I swallowed, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a lead chain.

"Trust no one, Kieran," she said again, her tone turning sharper, colder. "No one."

Her grip on my arm tightened for just a moment before she released me, as if silently daring me to argue.

I didn't. I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew she was right, charging in now would be suicide. But that didn't mean I could silence the part of me screaming to move, to hunt, to kill until I found him.

I forced myself to sit back down, my claws digging into my own palms.

I sat across from her, the tension in the room as thick as the shadows creeping along the stone walls. My mind was a storm, rage, grief, and the gnawing urge to do something, anything, to rget my father back. But my mother's calm, steady gaze anchored me in place. She had been through more storms than I could imagine, yet here she sat, as composed as ever.

"What do we do then?" I asked finally, my voice low but sharp with frustration. "If we can't trust anyone, and you won't let me attack the royal castle, then what's our move?"

Her sigh was deep, weary, like the sound of someone carrying centuries' worth of burdens. "Kieran," she began slowly, "in times like this, our greatest weapon is not strength but certainty. Among everyone here…. is there one person you can absolutely trust with your life? One person who is always for the good, who would never betray you, no matter the stakes?"

Her words settled in me like a blade sliding into place. My thoughts flashed instinctively, two faces emerged from the darkness. Hers, my mother's, of course. And then… Lorraine. Her stubborn, infuriating, unyielding face.

I didn't even have to think about it before I answered. "Lorraine."

Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing. "Lorraine," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "The girl they say followed you into the hidden chamber to get me out?"

I nodded once. "Yes."

Something flickered in her eyes, curiosity, maybe. But then I caught myself, and my jaw tightened. "Forget it," I muttered, leaning back. My expression must have darkened because I saw her brows knit. I didn't want to drag Lorraine into this mess. Not like this. Not after… everything. She has lost alot already

But my mother wasn't about to let it slide. She reached across the space between us and took my hand in hers. Her grip was firm, unshakable. "Speak to me, son," she urged softly, but there was steel beneath her tone. "That girl.… you love her, don't you?"

I swallowed hard. The truth sat bitter on my tongue. "She's supposed to be my mate," I admitted, my voice almost breaking on the word. "But things have ended between us, Mother. And it ended badly. Very badly."

For a moment, silence filled the room. My mother's eyes searched mine, as if peeling back every layer to see the truth I didn't want to face. Then she leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable, until it wasn't.

She shook her head slowly. "I'm disappointed in you, Kieran."

Those words, it was not something I expected

"If your father had been the kind of man who gives up on his mate so easily," she continued, her voice low but carrying the weight of history, "then he would have given up on me a long time ago. Look at me Kieran, I am practically a monster and you know it" Her eyes gleamed, sharp and fierce. "Yet, against all odds, your father stayed. He fought for me. For us. And because of that, we stood together through everything. That is what it means to have a mate."

Her hand squeezed mine once more, harder this time. "So be like your father, Kieran. Don't give up on your mate."

Her words burned in my chest. I wanted to argue, to tell her she didn't understand how Lorraine and I had torn each other apart, how much blood and pride had already been spilled. But the truth was… she was right.

I had walked away not because I didn't care, but because caring too much had felt like a weakness. I had convinced myself that distancing myself was survival. But sitting here, with my mother's unwavering gaze on me, I realized that maybe survival wasn't the point at all.

Maybe the point was to fight.

For Lorraine.

For us.