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Chapter Eighteen

LUCIEN

I stood in front of my family estate and loosened my tie and collar, giving me space to breathe.

After checking in with Isadora this morning, I’d decided it was time to speak to my mother and find out if she was responsible for the break-in.

Confronting her head-on seemed better than speculating.

If it was her, mystery solved. If it wasn’t, then I had one less name on my list. Not that my list consisted of many names.

I’d also decided to tell her I refused to run Isadora out of town. She wouldn’t appreciate this conversation, not by any means. Disobedience equaled defiance in my mother’s eyes.

Did I believe my mother was capable of this?

Yes. I knew she was. She was capable of great and terrifying things.

Not to mention she had a long-standing feud with Eleanor Laurent.

People didn’t always react the way others expected, especially when emotions were involved.

If she was responsible, then I would put a stop to it before matters escalated.

I took a step toward the front door, and it swung open just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out and glanced at the screen.

A text message from Rue: Wolves invaded the bar. No sign of stalker. Yet.

I paused and stared at the word wolves . After a moment, it clicked. Autocorrect. She likely meant Wolfe . As in Thorne.

I texted back: Thorne ?

Her reply came immediately: Entire pack .

I frowned at my phone, not entirely sure what she meant by that. The whole family, perhaps? I decided to focus on that later. Isadora clearly wasn’t in any immediate danger, and I had my own lions’ den to step into.

I fired off a final text: Keep eyes on the exits. Update me if anything changes.

Then I pocketed the phone and walked inside.

Henrik stood next to the door, his hands outstretched for my suit jacket. I quickly shed it, then unfastened my cufflinks and folded up my sleeves.

He didn’t comment on my appearance and simply hung my jacket. Then he gestured me inside. “Your father and Master Sebastian are in the library,” he said smoothly. “Your mother is out for the evening.”

Disappointment rose within me. Guess I should have called before arriving unannounced. With luck, maybe my father would know something.

“Thank you, Henrik,” I said, already striding toward the west wing.

The scent of firewood, old books, and tobacco greeted me as I approached the library. I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside.

As with most libraries, books lined every wall, stacked floor to ceiling.

Books about languages, cultures, magic, vampirism, humanity, philosophy.

The list went on and on. My brother had a deep-seated fascination with all things written, and my father had fostered his love of books by building him this library.

And speaking of the old man, he sat by the fire, one arm draped over the armrest, the other holding a glass of what I assumed was blood-bourbon—his favorite drink.

His attention drifted to me as I entered, his eyes taking in my current state of dress.

A slight frown wrinkled his brow, but he didn’t say a word.

Across from him, tucked onto the loveseat, was Sebastian. He held a book in his lap, a thick tome etched with glowing runes on the spine and cover. Undoubtedly some piece of forgotten magical academia only he could decipher—that was my brother’s specialty after all.

Had Juliette and Evangeline been here, the scene would have felt like something out of our childhood. Back when the entire family gathered in the library for no reason other than spending time together.

“Lucien,” my father said. He gave me what passed for a warm smile, but it vanished a moment later when he took a sip of his drink and let the fire reclaim his attention.

Sebastian tore his focus away from his book long enough to give me a welcoming nod, then dove back into the pages.

I chuckled to myself. It didn’t matter how many years passed, my little brother would always remain the same. He even turned the pages in the same manner he had when we were kids. He’d tap the bottom right corner—once, twice—then turn the page, careful not to touch the ink, lest he smear it.

My younger brother had never much cared about pleasantries.

Or people in general, really. He’d always lived in his own orbit, quiet and focused, anchored by routines no one dared interrupt.

To him, books weren’t possessions. They were constellations—maps of knowledge that gave his world structure.

His main interest lay in those pages, and very little beyond.

On the upside, if there was anyone in the house who might tell me the truth about the break-in, it would be Sebastian. He saw little value in mistruths. The challenge, however, would be prying him away from his pages to speak.

“I presume you’ve come tonight to give us an update about Miss Laurent?” my father asked, his voice drawing my focus away from my brother.

Sebastian didn’t so much as glance our way.

“Where’s mother?” I asked.

My father eyed me for a moment before he took another sip. “She has a social engagement tonight.”

“With whom?”

Ambrose’s brows lowered. He studied me for a moment in silence, then asked, “Why do you need to know?”

I needed to tread carefully here. If my mother was up to anything nefarious, undoubtedly, my father would know.

The two never kept secrets from one another.

Their dedication spanned centuries. However, I couldn’t simply ask if she was responsible.

My father would do anything to protect his wife.

Even from her own children, if necessary.

“Can a son not inquire after his mother’s whereabouts?” I asked, feigning a light tone as I lowered myself into the loveseat beside Sebastian.

“A son can,” my father said, swirling his drink. “But a father may also question his son’s sudden curiosity.”

I chuckled. “Merely curious who she’s off charming this afternoon. I hadn’t heard of any notable events. Wondering if I’ve fallen out of the loop.”

“Perhaps you have,” my father said, his voice clipped. “Rumor has it you’ve been distracted lately.”

The jab landed, but I didn’t bite. Instead, I kept quiet.

Sebastian reached the bottom of his page and turned it with delicate precision. “She mentioned Delancey. Briefly. Said the witch owed her a favor.”

Both my father and I turned to Sebastian.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t elaborate.

“Delancey Ravenspell?” I asked, sharper than intended.

Sebastian gave a small, distracted nod, his gaze still anchored to the book. “They don’t like each other. But Mother said the meeting was necessary.”

My father’s glass came down on the table a little harder than it needed to. “Sebastian.”

“What?” my brother said, blinking like he’d only just remembered we were in the room. “She mentioned it in the foyer when I arrived.”

My father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know better than to repeat private matters.”

Laughter rested on the tip of my tongue. There was no such thing as a private matter in Eternity Falls. My gaze cut to my father, whose posture had tightened.

“What would Mother need from a Ravenspell?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

My blood pressure began to climb. If Seraphina had involved the Ravenspells in this mess, I would raze this house to the ground. Family or not, I would not tolerate my mother attacking Isadora.

“Father,” I said, more firmly. “What does she want from the Ravenspells? We aren’t exactly cordial with that family.” Which was understating matters quite a bit.

Another beat passed.

Finally, he exhaled, then muttered into his glass. “She commissioned a spell.”

That was not what I expected. “For what?”

He didn’t answer.

Sebastian, of course, did. “To make her look more youthful.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Sebastian flipped another page, calm as ever. “In Mother’s words, her years are starting to show.”

“Enough, Sebastian,” Ambrose grunted. He sighed, muttered something about being cursed by the gods, then met my gaze.

“As you know, your mother is a beautiful woman. But she’s feeling self-conscious about approaching her first millennium.

She sought out the Ravenspells for a spell that would help her look more ethereal for the ball we plan to throw in her honor.

She’s met with Delancey for the past two nights. Apparently, it’s a challenging spell.”

“Mm,” Sebastian hummed. “It’s artistry. There’s a kinetic element woven into?—”

I patted my brother’s leg. “I don’t need you to explain spell-making to me.”

Then I stared at my father.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

Actually, I was. If Seraphina had been meeting with Delancey for the past two nights, then it seemed unlikely she was responsible for the break-in.

Tension rolled off my shoulders, and I relaxed against the sofa.

At least I knew one thing for certain: whoever was responsible for the threat against Isadora, it hadn’t come from within these walls.

I rose from the armchair and smoothed my hands down the front of my shirt. “Well, I should be off then. Good day, Father. Sebastian.”

“Lucien,” my father said before I’d made it two steps.

I paused and turned, brows lifted.

He studied me a moment longer, his gaze taking in my loosened tie and folded sleeves. “Have you an update about Miss Laurent?”

Dread crept along the back of my neck. I’d been hoping to avoid this conversation—at least until I knew where things stood myself.

I’d made my intentions clear to Isadora, told her I wanted her.

She hadn’t rebuffed me, but she also hadn’t offered a reply yet either.

The only encouragement she’d given me was that lovely kiss that had kept me up for the majority of last night, replaying it in my mind.

But she’d offered no follow-up. Hell, she hadn’t even mentioned it in either of our quick phone conversations since.

Until she told me she wanted me, I wouldn’t presume anything.

However, regardless of her answer, I absolutely refused to cause her any harm.

My parents wouldn’t understand nor appreciate my stance on that.

They wanted to see her run out of town and expected me to do it.

Refusal would pave the way for a lengthy discussion, demands, threats, none of which I would take lightly.

My parents had never met the true me, the one who had done despicable things all in the name of building my empire.

I would fight to protect Isadora. And if they painted me into a corner, they would soon meet the monster behind the mask.

As their son, I would prefer that never came to pass.

“The council hasn’t received any permit applications from her yet,” Ambrose continued. “Should I take that as a good sign?”

I hummed a noncommittal response. Best to let him wonder for now. Until I stood on firmer ground with Isadora.

Ambrose watched me for another long moment. When I offered no further detail, he parted his lips, likely to press the matter further.

Instead, I dipped my head and said, “Father. Sebastian.”

My brother didn’t respond. He’d clearly lost himself in another chapter, murmuring softly to himself in a language I didn’t speak. I didn’t interrupt, knowing he didn’t care for conversations such as these.

As I exited the library, the weight I’d carried since last night eased.

If my father could be trusted, then Seraphina hadn’t been behind the break-in.

A large part of me was relieved. The thought of my mother vandalizing Isadora’s loft was more than distressing.

At the same time, it bothered me that we hadn’t found any answers yet.

Someone had gone to great lengths to rattle Isadora.

Henrik already stood in the foyer with my coat in hand.

“Thank you,” I said, sliding into the sleeves.

“Of course, sir. Have a lovely day.”

He held open the door, and I breathed in the warm air. Once I stepped outside, I pulled out my phone. No new messages from Rue, but there was one from Isadora. A simple text with two frightening words.

They read, “ Help me .”

I stared at the screen.

My world narrowed around those words. Everything else—the library, my father, Sebastian—fell away.

I didn’t hesitate. I dashed to my car, climbed inside, fired up the engine, and tore down the drive. I didn’t know what I would be walking into. But I knew one thing for certain. If someone had touched a single hair on Isadora’s head, they wouldn’t live to see sunset.