Page 48 of Eternal Light (Fated in the Stars #5)

Leo wouldn’t be surprised if the gold leaf was genuine—its wording far more flamboyant than what had been included in the Phoenix Records’ DMs.

Lots of blah blah blah about reunions and triumphant returns.

Thirty minutes after they’d left their Guild sanctuary, they come upon a line of cars in a queue several hundred yards down the street, but Jay’s SUV passes them by, not slowing to gawk.

Leo catches sight of Finn’s broad palm pressed to the back window, and he watches until it disappears down the street.

Earlier, they’d discussed parking farther down, away from the mansion, and backtracking through the servants’ gate.

Given all the other people moving around the grounds, it’s unlikely they’d have the security sensors on—but it meant there would probably be more of a physical presence. More guards with guns.

Carnell preferred human fodder for his cannons; the first line of defense is expendable pawns. Easy come, easy go. So, besides being a delusional, misogynistic, psychopathic narcissist, Carnell was also a speciesist murderer.

Leo spares a minute to be grateful for his parents—that they’re good people who do for others whenever they can. He moves to text his mother with that thought in mind.

Just a simple question: Where are you? Followed by I love you.

They still hadn’t heard from her.

He didn’t call his Mama Frankie or his Dad, though, because Leo didn’t know what they knew, and he hadn’t wanted his father to ask questions Leo would have to lie about.

When he doesn’t hear back, he slips the burner phone back into his pocket with a sigh.

They’re moving forward in the line as security guards verify invitations and check names on lists.

“If you want to get out, now is the time,” Gideon says when they’re five cars back. “Please, please get out.”

“Fuck that, Sugar. We stick together.”

“Agreed,” Nix says, with a hand on Gideon’s shoulder over the seat.

“Leo?”

There has never been a thought that he wouldn’t stand at Gideon’s shoulder through good times and bad.

“Through thick and thin.”

Sighing—as if he hadn’t expected anything different, but still wishes he’d gotten a different answer—Gideon whispers, “Here we go,” as he pulls to a stop next to the guard and rolls down his window.

Leo passes the invitation to the waiting Were guard, watching as his eyes go wide.

“Mr. Carnell, sir. Welcome. Please go ahead.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the rest of them, and that is fine by Leo; this is just one hurdle they’ll jump tonight.

As the convoy of vehicles snakes along the lane way, Leo leans forward, taking in the scene ahead. Lamps cast a soft, golden glow every twenty feet, lending the path an almost enchanting quality. For a moment, he lets himself admire it—it’s picturesque. Serene, even.

As they crest a slight hill, Carnell’s fortress looms into view, causing Leo to catch his breath. He’s no stranger to wealth, but this is opulence on another level.

The sprawling estate unfolds before him, with manicured lawns stretching endlessly on either side of the stone drive, each blade of grass trimmed with surgical precision.

But it’s the tall stone walls and the drawbridge that cause Gideon to clench his jaw hard enough that they can hear it crack.

Driving over the actual moat, on a lowered drawbridge, they pass through into a courtyard lined with luxury vehicles and scurrying staff.

“Who builds a fucking castle in Florida? It’s fugly,” Luca whispers.

Incredibly so.

A sprawling gray stone monstrosity, the castle reminds Leo of something he’d seen on vacation with his parents as a teen.

It has a large, square-centric design with sprawling wings on either side, and towering turrets—made even more obvious as the entire place is lit up from within, every light on in every room.

It doesn’t get better-looking the closer they get to the front of the queue, either.

At the very last minute, in the seconds before a uniformed valet opens Gideon’s door, the alpha whispers, “Don’t listen to anything I say in there. Remember, I love you, and for fuck’s sake, get out if you get a bad feeling.”

In the next second, a veil of disdainful contempt slides over Gideon’s features, transforming him in an instant.

That earlier coil of dread settles in Leo’s gut as three other impeccably dressed doormen step forward in perfect synchronization, opening the CR-V’s other doors simultaneously, as if they’ve rehearsed it.

Their modest vehicle stands out like a sore thumb among the gleaming luxury sedans and the occasional limousine, but Gideon moves with the poise of someone carried in the palm of The Goddess herself.

The grand entrance looms ahead—several wide steps lead up to front doors that stretch two stories high, propped open to welcome a steady stream of guests.

Immediately, Leo is overcome by the opulence and noise, and despite that he has performed for royalty and on stages in front of thousands, this is something so foreign to him.

The decadence and danger have only sharpened the stark difference in Gideon. He isn’t the alpha Leo knows. Gone is the fluid grace and teasing smirk, replaced by a straight-backed figure with dead eyes.

Chilled by the transformation, Leo is suddenly lonely for his mate, even though he’s standing right there.

Beside him, Luca lets out a quiet whimper, and for a moment, Leo thinks he might do the same.

Gideon doesn’t look back. Without a glance at either his pack mates or the mix of Human and Were guests milling about, he ascends the front steps with an unhurried confidence that feels utterly foreign.

They’re met at the door by a server bearing a tray of champagne. Gideon takes one, but Leo doesn’t need his alpha’s almost invisible head shake to avoid the tray.

What Leo can do is fall behind his mate’s right shoulder, while Luca does the same on the left. Nix stays a little farther behind, and together, they guard their alpha’s back.

The main rooms are teeming with people—a sea of wealth and power, all packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Yet, as their entourage cuts through the opulent crowd, space seems to carve itself around them.

Leo catches glimpses of familiar faces—politicians, high-ranking CEOs, and what he can only assume is the cream of Florida’s elite.

Whispers ripple through the room, but most fall silent as Gideon approaches, with the crowd parting like the Red Sea, only to close ranks again once they’ve passed.

Then Leo spots them—two faces that stop him cold. Members of the Ripley Records Board.

If there had been any doubt before yesterday that Carnell had Ripley Records wrapped tightly around his little finger, it was gone now. Their presence here confirms it: Carnell isn’t just pulling strings. He’s yanking the whole damn marionette.

“Did you see Eddie Derman? And Wade Fielding? Bastards,” Luca mutters under his breath.

“That’s enough, Luca,” Gideon says quietly. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“No, but where is he, then? We’ve been here hours already.”

It has only been twenty minutes, tops, but Luca isn’t wrong—it feels like an eternity under the subtle and not-so-subtle stares of party-goers passing in and out of the room to get a better look at Carnell’s heir.

“He arrives when he arrives. No doubt he’s been told we’re here.”

Gideon is the epitome of unconcerned nonchalance, leaning casually up against the mantle of a fireplace that’s too small for the hideous room.

“Patience.”

Luca shifts nervously from foot to foot, but manages to keep his usual stream of anxious commentary under control.

Nix, on the other hand, is less self-contained as he scans the room constantly, occasionally clenching his jaw—as if he hears things he’d rather not, or catches the scent of something unpleasant.

The ambient noise reaches chaotic levels when Gideon finally places his empty champagne glass on the mantle, making his way through the densely packed rooms back toward the imposing two-story entrance, with its broad staircase curving upwards.

There are several couples perched on stairs, jockeying for the best view of the party; they’re clearly looking to see and be seen.

Events like this will provide weeks, if not years, of fodder that the elite can grind in the gossip mill.

Like creatures sensing a predator in their midst, conversations fall silent as they pass.

Those on the stairs press themselves to the walls, and suddenly, it dawns on him: it probably hasn’t been anything Carnell would have told them about Gideon—it’s purely Gideon’s commanding presence.

Power radiates from him effortlessly, as natural here in luxury as he had been making grilled cheese in borrowed sweats. Again, Leo thinks that this Gideon—formidable and untamed—feels like someone Leo has never met.

With his aura extending out in front of him, Gideon sucks them along in his wake, drawing eyes as he ascends upward toward the railing, where they’ll be able to see all of Carnell’s sycophants laid out before him.

His gaze sweeps over the crowd with a sharpness that promises no detail will be forgotten.

Leo is certain Gideon has already committed each face to memory, cataloging them for future reckoning.

Some seem to sense it, too—the weight of being seen by a predator who might decide their fate.

They scatter like cockroaches exposed to light, some of them smart enough to slip out the grand front doors and vanish into the night.

Leo wants to laugh at their foolishness and then sing with pride at his mate’s power. Not because he is a fierce, power-hungry ruler, but because Leo knows Gideon Carnell likes tea, cats, and poetry. These buffoons can’t recognize the source of his mate’s true power: love.

As that final thought solidifies in his mind, Gideon halts, squaring his shoulders and widening his stance, ready for battle.

Just ten feet away stands their nemesis, dressed head-to-toe in an immaculate white suit, shirt, and tie—the bright fabric casting a stark contrast against his leathery, orange-toned skin.

Leo’s gaze shifts to the memory of the black king he’d chosen from the chessboard—a reminder of why they’re here. In this moment, it’s a true fifty-fifty chance: will Gideon risk everything to take Carnell’s heart in front of four hundred powerful witnesses, or will he bide his time?

“Allistair, what an unexpected pleasure,” Carnell drawls, his voice slick with oily charm. Thin lips curl into a mockery of a smile, dripping with condescension.

Gideon bows his head slightly. “I doubt that, given that you invited us.”

There’s only the smallest eye twitch at Gideon’s failure to show his sire the respect he feels he’s owed.

“This is a celebration in your honor.”

“We received all of your invitations. You were so eager to have us, I could hardly resist coming to see what the fuss was all about.”

Luca snorts from Leo’s left.

Carnell’s jaw tightens—a fractional hardening that speaks volumes. His smile stays in place, but it sharpens.

“Come,” he says smoothly. “It’s almost time for your coronation.”

Coronation? The word slams into Leo like a punch. Luca and Nix had mentioned Carnell’s fixation on some prophecy spinning Gideon as a divine ruler, but an actual crowning?

With a firm shake of his head, Gideon slips his hand into his pocket, smoothing the front of his suit in a practiced gesture with the other.

“No. I don’t think so.”

The few brave souls still left standing nearest the blast zone gasp.

Carnell’s mask cracks, his carefully constructed facade slipping as a heavy silence falls in the aftermath of Gideon’s words.

Fuck, are they doing this right here, right now?

Withers is nowhere to be seen, but the two big bodyguards inch their hands inside their jackets, causing Nix to growl low and shift slightly from his position on Gideon’s right—already putting a bit of distance between them so he can have a clear attack position should they draw weapons or attack.

They’re standing on the precipice of something explosive.

Gideon doesn’t flinch. His voice cuts through the tension, low and unyielding.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation in your office. I’m not the boy I once was. You’ve murdered my mate—my alpha.”

Among other things.

He pauses just long enough for the weight of his words to settle.

“Surely that warrants further…discussion.”

Leo’s breath catches. He isn’t the only one stunned into silence.

Carnell’s growl shatters the quiet, the last vestiges of his charm shattering with it.

His eyes blaze with shock, his voice sharp and incredulous.

“Surely you aren’t challenging me. Here. In my own home. In front of the entirety of Florida and Nashville’s elite?”

The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

Leo’s mind races.

Holy fuck—was he?