Page 47

“Can you hear me, Luca?”

Warmth suddenly enveloped my right hand, phantom fingers intertwining with mine. I looked down, but there was nothing there. Yet I could feel it—Zane’s touch, his strength trying to anchor me.

“The market research shows significant growth in…” Ms. Rodriguez’s voice competed with other murmurs, distant but familiar voices discussing medical terms.

“…fever’s still too high…”

“…ancient blood isn’t working fast enough…”

“…power manifestation unlike anything…”

A cool hand brushed my forehead, carrying the scent of winter storms. Ryker? But when I turned, there was only the bland corporate art on the boardroom wall. Yet I could have sworn I felt lips press against my temple, heard his voice whisper, “Stay with us, prince.”

The fluorescent lights flickered, each flash making the room shift between corporate boardroom and hospital room, between gray suits and worried supernatural faces.

“Come back to us,” Archer’s sunshine-warm voice teased near my ear. “You’re missing all the fun. Sylvie’s already planned your welcome home party.”

The boardroom dissolved around me like watercolor in rain. Ms. Rodriguez’s voice faded completely, replaced by something deeper, older—a voice that felt like safety and family and ancient power.

“Luca?” the voice called, and suddenly I wasn’t in the office anymore. “Stay strong, little one.”

“Grandfather Alexander?” The name came unbidden to my lips, though I couldn’t remember how I knew it.

The corporate world ripped away like wet paper. Suddenly I stood in a grand mansion, everything bright and vivid after the gray world I’d been trapped in. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow light across marble floors. The air smelled of roses and something metallic-sweet.

A beautiful woman smiled down at me, her lavender eyes—my eyes—sparkling with love. “My little prince,” she whispered, reaching for me with elegant hands. Her dark hair fell like silk around her shoulders, and her fangs glinted when she smiled.

Father stood beside her, tall and proud. The Valentine Clan sigil—a blood rose wrapped in thorns—gleamed on his chest. “You’ll be as powerful as your mother someday,” he said, his voice warm with certainty.

But even as he spoke, the bright scene began to darken. Shadows crept across the marble floor like spilled ink. The chandeliers flickered, then went out one by one.

“No,” I whispered, remembering-not-remembering what came next. “Please, no.”

Three figures emerged from the darkness, their eyes gleaming like frozen blood.

Lord Dominic Nightshade led them, his aristocratic features carved from marble and cruelty.

His perfectly tailored suit seemed to absorb light, the Nightshade Clan’s emblem—a poisoned chalice—bloodred against the black fabric.

Lord Carmille glided at his side, his beauty as delicate and deadly as a poisoned blade. His silver hair floated around him like a ghost’s veil, his smile promising exquisite pain. Every movement was a dance of death, every gesture calculated to enchant and destroy.

Viktor, their enforcer, towered behind them like a mountain of muscle and scars. His massive hands flexed, already reaching for weapons. Unlike his leaders’ cold elegance, Viktor radiated pure brutality.

“The Valentine line ends tonight,” Lord Nightshade’s voice purred like silk over steel. “Nothing personal, old friend. Just politics.”

“Dominic, please.” Father stepped in front of my mother, his power rising like a storm. “We were blood-sworn brothers once.”

“Which makes this all the more poetic.” Lord Carmille laughed like breaking crystal. “The last of the Valentines, destroyed by family.”

My father’s scream pierced the air as Viktor’s blade found my mother’s heart. Blood splattered across marble floors, across my face, hot and terrible. My father’s power exploded outward, but Lord Carmille was faster, his silver hair writhing like living weapons.

“Run!” My father’s last word, his last gift, as Lord Nightshade’s hand punched through his chest.

Blood. So much blood. The taste of tears and ash. The Nightshade Clan’s laughter echoing through halls that had once held only love.

“Luca!”

New voices cut through the nightmare—familiar, beloved voices calling me home.

“Come back to us, little bat!”

“Prince, wake up!”

“Luca, please…”

Three different scents wrapped around me like shields.

The darkness shifted, parting like silk curtains in a phantom breeze.

I floated in a realm between realities, where possibilities drifted like stardust and power hummed in the very air.

And there, suspended in this in-between space, hung an orb of pure light.

It pulsed in perfect synchronization with my heart, each beat sending ripples of warmth through the ethereal void.

Something deep inside me responded to its call, an ancient recognition that transcended conscious thought.

My spirit—or whatever I was in this strange place—drifted toward it, drawn by instincts older than memory.

The orb existed in impossible dimensions, both vast as the night sky and small enough to cradle. As I drew closer, other lights flickered at the edges of perception—twelve more orbs, arranged in an incomplete circle. They pulsed with potential, with promise, waiting for something… or someone.

“Little bat…” Zane’s voice echoed through the void, making the orb’s light dance.

My hand reached out, trembling in the strange not-air.

The moment my fingers touched the crystalline surface, power exploded through me like shattered starlight.

Visions cascaded through my mind—ancient magics stirring from millennium-long slumber, destiny weaving patterns too complex to comprehend, power that sang through my very essence.

The orb’s light intensified, matching the wild rhythm of my heart. Through its depths, I glimpsed others yet to awaken, twelve more lights pulsing with dormant power. Each pulse showed me more, understanding just beyond my grasp.

“Prince, come back to us…” Ryker’s voice sent shivers through the ethereal plane.

The light shifted, revealing three figures wreathed in power—midnight and lightning and sunshine. The brothers. But not as I knew them. Something more, something that made my soul resonate like a struck bell. The orb thrummed with certainty, with recognition.

“Luca, please wake up…” Archer’s warmth called through the void.

They are waiting , the orb’s light seemed to whisper without words. The circle begins. The first awakens.

Their scents grew stronger, more insistent. The orb’s radiance began to fade, but I could feel its echo inside me—a core of ancient power, waiting to fully awaken. All I had to do was follow their voices home…

The hospital room materialized around me slowly, like watercolors bleeding onto canvas.

Three worried faces came into focus—Zane, Ryker, and Archer, all leaning close.

Their presence wrapped around me like a blanket woven from starlight and storm clouds, like finally surfacing after being lost in deep waters.

“There’s our prince,” Archer whispered, his usual sunshine smile trembling at the edges. His hand clutched mine like he was afraid I’d drift away again.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw, scraped by screams I couldn’t remember.

Zane’s hand slipped behind my neck, supporting me as Ryker held a crystal goblet to my lips.

The liquid inside was darker than normal blood, thick with ancient power.

It tasted like midnight storms and old magic, nothing like my usual lavender-strawed medical bags.

“What happened?” My voice emerged as barely a whisper. “Why am I…?”

“You had a fever,” Ryker said carefully, exchanging loaded glances with his brothers. “A rather unusual one.”

The private hospital suite was crowded with familiar faces—Aunt Senna crying quietly in Uncle Owen’s protective embrace, Sylvie and Hunter clutching each other’s hands, Great Uncle Johnathan watching me with an intensity that made the air feel heavy with unspoken questions.

“I was so scared,” I whispered, and felt all three brothers tense around me. “I thought… I was back in my old world. Everything was gray and wrong and…” A shudder ran through me, making the medical equipment chirp in alarm. “I saw them. My parents—the Valentines. And the Nightshades, when they…”

I couldn’t continue, the memory of blood and betrayal stealing my voice.

Uncle Owen released Aunt Senna gently before moving from his protective stance by the door.

His presence alone spoke volumes—he should have been at the International Security Summit for another week.

The fact that the head of Whitlock security had abandoned such a crucial conference could only mean one thing: my condition was far more serious than anyone was letting on.

“You’re safe now, prince.” Owen’s steady voice carried the weight of his military background. His hand squeezed my foot through the blanket, a gesture so paternal it made my throat tight.

Great Uncle Johnathan watched me, his power filling the room like gathering storm clouds. Something about my words had caught his attention, but exhaustion was already pulling me under before I could question it.

“Rest now, little bat.” Zane’s voice was gentle but carried that alpha tone that brooked no argument. His fingers threaded through my hair, grounding me in this reality.

My body felt heavy, drained. The brothers moved closer, surrounding me with their scents, their presence. Something inside me settled, like finding shelter after a storm.

“Don’t leave,” I murmured, already drifting back into darkness—but a gentle darkness this time, wrapped in midnight and lightning and sunshine.

“Never,” they promised in unison, their voices twining together like strands of fate.

As sleep claimed me, I felt safer than I had since waking up in this supernatural world, surrounded by three alphas whose presence made my inner vampire purr with contentment. Their scents followed me into dreams, promising protection, promising more.