CHAPTER 392: BRING THEM BACK

Nicholas~

I stood there in the echoing gym, the rain pounding against the windows like an accusatory drumbeat, my world crumbling around Katrina’s whispered words: "You already have. Just... go find Winter. Maybe you can salvage that. But me? I’m done." Her back was turned to me, shoulders hunched and trembling, the weight of her heartbreak radiating off her like heat from a dying fire. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a dull blade—guilt, regret, and a bone-deep ache twisting together into something unbearable. But I couldn’t just walk away. Not from her. Not from us.

Ignoring the sting of her rejection, I closed the distance between us in two determined strides. My hands, still buzzing with the remnants of my werewolf strength, reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug. She stiffened at first, her body rigid against mine, but I held on, wrapping my arms around her like I could physically piece her shattered soul back together. "Kat, no," I murmured into her damp hair, my voice thick with so many emotions. "You don’t get to push me away. Not now. Not ever."

She struggled weakly, her palms pressing against my chest. "Nick, let go—"

"I’m sorry," I cut her off, my words tumbling out in a desperate rush, hot tears stinging my eyes. "Gods, Kat, I’m so damn sorry. I was a coward, yeah. I ran because I couldn’t handle it—the horns, the eyes, the whole demon thing staring me in the face. It scared the hell out of me, reminded me of every horror story our parents drilled into us. But that doesn’t excuse it. I hurt Winter, and because of that, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. Or don’t—hell, yell at me, hit me, whatever you need. But don’t shut me out."

Her struggles faded, her body sagging against mine as sobs wracked her frame. I could feel her heart racing, syncing with mine in that chaotic rhythm we’d shared since we were kids sneaking out for midnight adventures. The scent of her—sweat, tears, and that faint celestial glow like fresh rain on wildflowers—filled my senses, grounding me even as my own heart fractured further.

"Nick..." she whispered, her voice muffled against my shirt, raw and broken. "It hurts so much. Vincent... he said it was all fake. Revenge. And now the bond’s gone. Snapped like it never mattered."

I pulled back just enough to cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her blue eyes, usually so vibrant and fierce, were dulled by pain, rimmed with red and swimming with unshed tears. Strands of her reddish-blonde hair stuck to her cheeks, and I brushed them away gently, my thumbs tracing the tear tracks. "I know it hurts. I felt a glimpse of it when I thought about rejecting Winter—it’s like losing a limb, isn’t it? But listen to me, Kat. We’re not done. I’m not giving up on her, and I’m sure as hell not giving up on you or Vincent. Come with me. Let’s go get them back. Both of them."

She blinked, confusion flickering through the storm in her eyes. "Get them back? Nick, they’re gone. Vincent rejected me. Winter... you said you can’t sense her."

"Begging you, Kat," I said, my voice dropping to a pleading whisper, dropping to one knee while still holding her hands, like some dramatic knight in one of those old tales she loved mocking. "Don’t give up. Not on love, not on us. I promise you—I’ll bring Vincent and Winter back. Even if it kills me. I’ll storm whatever shadow realm they’ve slunk off to, fight demons, gods, whatever it takes. You don’t have to forgive me right now. I’ll earn it. Day by day, fight by fight. But we do this together. Like always."

For a long moment, she just stared at me, the fire in her eyes dimming not from defeat but from a spark of something else—hope? Her body relaxed further, the tension bleeding out as she processed my words. The proposal hung between us, electric and alive, chasing away some of the shadows in the room. Slowly, her hands stopped pushing against mine; instead, they gripped my shirt, holding on like a lifeline.

"Bring him back..." she echoed, her voice soft, almost wistful. The anger that had fueled her earlier outbursts seemed to ebb, leaving her vulnerable and open. She took a shaky breath, then gently pushed me away—not with force, but with a tentative resolve. "Okay. Okay, Nick. Let’s... let’s try. But gods, if this goes wrong..."

Relief crashed over me like a wave, cool and invigorating, easing the vise around my heart. I stood up, a small, crooked smile breaking through my tears. "It won’t. We’re the dynamic duo, remember? You with your celestial fireworks, me with my fangs and fur. Unstoppable."

She wiped her face again, smearing more mascara, and let out a watery chuckle—a sound that was music to my ears after all the sobs. "You’re such an idiot. Fine. What’s the plan?"

I straightened, wiping my own eyes with the back of my hand, feeling a surge of determination ignite in my veins. "First things first—we tell our parents. They’ll want to know, and hell, they might even help. Dad’s got connections, and your folks... well, they’re the king and queen for a reason."

Katrina’s expression hardened instantly, that spark of hope flickering with stubborn resolve. She shook her head vehemently, her reddish-blonde hair whipping around her face. "No. Absolutely not, Nick. That’d be a waste of time. You know how they are—they’ll turn this into a council meeting, drag in advisors, and lock us down while they ’handle it.’ They’ve been suspicious of Vincent and Winter from the start. Remember the side-eyes at dinner? The not-so-subtle questions?"

I frowned, running a hand through my black hair, my dark eyes narrowing as I tried to reason with her. "Kat, come on. They’re our parents. They love us. And yeah, they’ve done... stuff. Killed demons, imprisoned gods. But this is different. We’re talking about our mates. If we explain—"

"Explain what?" she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and desperation. Her celestial magic flared faintly around her fingertips, like tiny stars sparking in anger. "That their past sins are biting us in the ass? They’ve done enough harm already—killing Vincent and Winter’s mother, locking up their father. We don’t need more trouble from them. They’ll try to stop us, Nick. Call it protection or whatever, but it’ll be chains. Are you willing to go or not? Stop wasting precious time!"

I hesitated, the logic warring with my instincts. Telling Dad—Sebastian, the Vampire Lord with his brooding wisdom—and Mom, the werewolf warrior who’d slay anything for me—felt right. And Zane and Natalie? They were powerhouses, but Katrina was spot-on; they’d been wary of the Shadowborn siblings from day one. Visions of heated arguments and grounded-for-life decrees flashed in my mind. "Fine," I conceded, throwing up my hands. "No parents. But you’re coming with me to my room first. I need to grab some cash—in case this drags on and we end up crashing somewhere sketchy overnight. Can’t rely on charms or magic if things get dicey."

She nodded, a ghost of her old impulsive grin tugging at her lips. "Deal. Let’s move."

We bolted from the gym like thieves in the night, our footsteps echoing softly down the marble corridors of the palace. The place was a labyrinth of opulent halls, gilded with celestial motifs from Natalie’s side and fierce lycan carvings from Zane’s—reminders of the legacy Katrina always felt overshadowed by, even as she adored her family. My heart pounded with a thrilling mix of adrenaline and fear, Leo’s wolfish presence stirring in my mind, urging me on with a low growl of approval.

We reached my room in record time, the door creaking open to reveal my chaotic domain: black velvet curtains drawn against the storm, posters of rock bands mixed with ancient vampire tomes on the shelves, and my safe tucked behind a false panel in the wardrobe. Katrina paced by the window, her training gear still clinging to her, while I punched in the code—my birthday, Dad’s classic eye-roll choice.

"Make it quick," she urged, glancing over her shoulder. "Every second counts."

I yanked out stacks of cash—crisp bills from various realms, enough to bribe a small army or fund a wild goose chase. Stuffing them into a worn duffle bag slung over my bed, I zipped it up with a flourish. "Ready. Let’s ghost this place."

Sneaking out was old hat for us. We darted through hidden passages, giggling under our breath like the reckless teens we’d always been—though tonight, the laughter was edged with hysteria. "Remember that time we used this tunnel to crash the werewolf rave?" I whispered as we navigated the damp, torch-lit stone corridors, the air thick with the scent of earth and forgotten secrets. "You tried teleporting us back and we ended up in the kitchens, covered in flour?"

Katrina snorted, a genuine spark of humor breaking through her grief. "Yeah, and Alexander covered for us, saying we were ’practicing stealth maneuvers.’ Gods, my teleportation sucks. Always lands us in the wrong spot—once in a broom closet during a state dinner."

"Exactly why we’re doing this the old-fashioned way," I replied, grinning despite the knot in my stomach. The tunnel system was our secret weapon, a relic from the palace’s war-torn past, winding under the grounds like veins in a giant beast. We emerged through a concealed grate in the outer gardens, the rain soaking us instantly as we sprinted into the cover of the ancient forest bordering the estate.

Panting, we paused under a massive oak, its branches groaning in the wind like disapproving elders. The palace lights twinkled faintly in the distance, a world we’d just abandoned for the unknown. My vampire senses sharpened—the night alive with rustling leaves, distant howls, and the metallic tang of storm-charged air. Katrina shook out her hair, water droplets flying like tiny diamonds, her blue eyes scanning the shadows with renewed determination.

"Okay, we’re out," she said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. "Now what? How do we find them? Vincent and Winter could be anywhere—shadow realms, hidden enclaves, hell, even another continent."

I slung the duffle bag higher on my shoulder, the weight a comforting reminder of our resolve. But her question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered, the thrill of escape giving way to the daunting reality ahead. How indeed? The mates we’d lost, the bonds we’d broken—tracking demons wasn’t exactly in our playbook. Yet.