CHAPTER 390: REJECTION

Vincent/Vaelthor~

I strode toward the gym door, the echo of my footsteps sharp against the floor, each one carrying me further from Katrina’s tear-streaked face. The air still hummed with the residue of our conversation, that fragile tension between her pleas and my calculated manipulations. My mind raced ahead, plotting the next move in this intricate game of revenge—until a voice pierced through my thoughts like a dagger in the dark.

"Vaelthor? Brother, please... answer me."

It was Sylthara, her mental voice trembling, laced with sobs that hit me like icy rain. I froze mid-step, my hand inches from the door handle. The mind link we shared, forged in the shadows of our demonic blood, vibrated with her pain. She sounded shattered, like glass cracking under unbearable pressure.

"Syl? What’s wrong?" I replied through the link, my own voice steady but edged with concern. "You sound... broken. Where are you?"

There was a heavy pause, filled only with the faint echo of her weeping. Then, her words tumbled out in a rush. "I... I messed up. Everything. I’m so sorry, Vaelthor. I told Nicholas. I showed him my true form. The demon side. Everything."

Silence slammed into me like a wall. My breath hissed out sharply, a serpent’s warning. "You did what? Sylthara, why? I warned you—"

"I know!"

she cut in, her mental cry sharp and desperate, sobs breaking through like storm waves. "I know you did. But I thought... I thought he loved me. The mate bond, it felt so real. He swore nothing would change, that he’d never hate me or hurt you. But when I dropped the glamour... his face, Vaelthor. The horror. He called me a demon, like it was a curse. Then he ran. He just... ran."

"Damn it, Syl," I shot back, my tone shifting to that cold, calculating edge I reserved for crises. Urgency surged through me, my shadows stirring restlessly beneath my skin. "Where is he now? Did he say anything about telling the others?"

"I don’t know," she wailed, her voice fracturing in my mind, raw and echoing with self-loathing. "But he will. He has to. His parents helped kill Mother. How could he not? And now you’re in danger because of me. If they find out about you... about us... they’ll come for you. I’m so sorry. I should have listened. I abandoned our plans, our revenge, for this stupid love that sees me as a monster. I hate myself for it. For putting you at risk. You’re all I have left, and I ruined it."

"Syl, stop." I softened my voice, letting that brotherly protectiveness seep in—the one side of me that wasn’t a mask, the one forged in the fires of our shared loss. It was charming in its danger, a velvet glove over iron. "You’re not a monster. You’re my sister. We’ll fix this. Just tell me where you are—I’ll come to you. We can get out together, regroup. The revenge isn’t lost; we can still—"

"No!" Her interruption was a surge of desperation, flooding the link like a tidal wave. "You have to leave. Now. Get out of the palace before they come for you. Run, Vaelthor. Far away. Don’t wait for me—I’m the one who screwed up. Forgive me, please. I beg you. Don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you more than anything. You’re my compass, my shield. But I can’t... I can’t drag you down with me."

"Sylthara, wait—don’t do anything rash. I could never hate you. We’re family. Blood. Shadows. Let me help—"

The link severed abruptly, like a thread snapped by invisible scissors. I reached out again, calling her name mentally, but it bounced back into the void. She’d blocked me. Panic—real, unfiltered panic—clawed at my chest for the first time in years. My sister, my only true ally in this forsaken world, was out there alone, broken by love’s betrayal. What if she did something irreversible? What if Nicholas had already spilled everything to his precious family?

My shadows writhed under my skin, feeding on my fear, twisting it into something darker. I slammed my fist against the gym door, the wood splintering slightly under my demonic strength. The pain was a distant echo; all I felt was the void where Sylthara’s presence should be.

"Vincent?" Katrina’s voice cut through the haze, soft and tentative, laced with worry. She had followed me, her footsteps light but hurried. I turned to see her standing there, her reddish-blonde hair disheveled from our earlier embrace, blue eyes wide with confusion. She looked so vulnerable, so human in her concern, and for a split second, the mate bond tugged at me, whispering of what could have been. But rage boiled over, shattering my carefully constructed facade.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, stepping closer, her hand reaching out to touch my arm. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Talk to me."

I jerked away from her touch, my eyes narrowing into slits. For the first time, I lost my cool—the calculating charm crumbling like ash. "Wrong? Everything’s wrong, Katrina! And it’s all because of you and your stupid, self-righteous family!"

She blinked, her brow furrowing in bewilderment. "What? Vincent, I don’t understand. What happened? We were just talking about us, about staying—"

"You don’t understand?" I snarled, my voice rising, echoing off the gym walls like thunder. My shadows flickered at the edges of my vision, threatening to spill out. "My sister—Sylthara, Winter to you—is worth more than all of you combined! She’s the only family I have left, and now she’s out there, broken, because of your precious Nicholas!"

Katrina’s face paled, her blue eyes searching mine desperately. "Winter? Nicholas? Vincent, slow down. What are you talking about? Did something happen between them? Tell me—"

I paced like a caged beast, my words tumbling out in a furious ramble, the dam of my composure fully broken. "I came here with one goal in mind—to infiltrate your perfect little royal world, to make you all pay for what you did to my family. But now? Now I might lose my sister because of it! She’s the one who believed in that idiotic mate bond, thought love could bridge the chasm you people created. And Nicholas—your brother’s best friend, your family’s lapdog—he saw her true self and ran like the coward he is!"

"True self?" Katrina echoed, her voice trembling now, stepping back as if my words were physical blows. "Vincent, you’re scaring me. What do you mean by ’make us pay’? What goal? And Winter... What do you mean by ’true self?’ What’s going on?"

I laughed bitterly, a harsh, mirthless sound that bounced off the weights and mats, turning the gym into a chamber of echoes. "Oh, that’s rich. You really have no idea, do you? Your family destroyed mine! Your parents—Queen Natalie and King Zane—they slaughtered our mother, alongside Sebastian and Cassandra. Imprisoned our father, And now, history repeats itself. Nicholas rejects Winter because she’s a demon, just like they rejected us!"

Katrina’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. "Your parents? A demon? Winter is... and you... Vincent, no. This can’t be real. You’re not—"

"I won’t let you and your family destroy mine again!" I roared, my demonic strength surging, shadows coiling around my fists like living smoke. The air grew heavy, charged with my fear illusions flickering at the edges—whispers of nightmares teasing the corners of the room.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice cracking, tears welling up again. But there was a spark of her fierce independence there, her celestial magic glowing faintly under her skin. "Vincent, explain! If Winter’s in trouble, we can help. My family isn’t like that—we protect our own. Nicholas wouldn’t—"

"Ask Nicholas yourself!" I spat, my eyes blazing with fury. "See what he says about the ’monster’ he just fled from. But there’s no more pretending, no more long game. I’m done playing the charming outsider."

Understanding dawned on her face, horror mixing with heartbreak. "You... you were using me? All this time? The mate bond, the kisses, the promises—it was all a lie?"

"Not all," I admitted through gritted teeth, the bond twisting like a knife in my gut. But rage drowned out the regret. "But now? Now it’s over. I won’t wait for you to reject me like Nicholas did to Winter. I reject you, Katrina Anderson-Moor, as my mate. Right here, right now."

The words ripped from my throat, and the pain hit like a lightning strike—searing through my veins, doubling me over. The mate bond snapped, a golden thread fraying into oblivion, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Katrina gasped, clutching her chest, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her reddish-blonde hair falling like a curtain around her face. "Vincent... no... it hurts... why?"

I staggered back, fighting the wave of agony, my shadows surging to bolster me. "Because your family took everything from me once. I won’t let it happen again. I’ll pay you back a hundredfold for what you’ve done to mine—starting with finding my sister."

She reached out weakly, her voice a broken whisper. "Wait... please... we can fix this. Don’t go like this. Vincent!"

But I turned, bolting through the door, her cries fading behind me. The palace corridors blurred as I ran, following the faint trail of Sylthara’s essence—a shadowy whisper in the air, pulling me toward her. Fear and fury warred within me, but one thing was clear: revenge had just ignited into war.