Page 37 of Seared Fates

Vidar

After the room empties, Golden having dragged Kai off, I make my way out to do something I’ve been putting off. My steps are heavy while walking down the well-decorated hallway, Ramy’s work I’m certain. Yet before I can reach my destination, my phone rings.

“What?”

“No ‘hello’? Vidar, you’re losing your charm,” Grey says, the obnoxious bastard.

“I had to endure you only a few hours ago, isn’t that enough, pup?”

His highly amused chuckle coasts from the speaker, and the temptation to hang up on the Direwolf is strong. Instead, I find myself leaning against the wall. We do need to talk, especially after the sham meeting with Astra.

“So you’re working with blood mages now, Grey? And I always thought you had some self-respect. How is it rolling around in their muck?”

Grey chuckles low. “Probably as pleasant as a ramshackle mansion. How was apathy, by the way?”

A smirk full of fangs pulls at my lips. “Great, since it was nowhere near your hairy ass, werewolf.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky. And if you seriously think I’d show my neck to a blood mage, then you don’t know me very well.”

“What’s changed then? You can't seriously believe Astra’s sob story.”

“Have you considered,” Grey begins with some bite to his words, “that my land—my pack—is smack in the middle of both your claims? As charming as you and Astra are, I’d rather not be wedged in the middle if things get bloody.”

“So the land she’s promising has nothing to do with it?” I throw back.

“That’s just business, Vidar,” Grey replies with a grating smugness. “Not that it’ll work out for Astra and her lot, it doesn’t matter if the other packs agree to meet her or not.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why he’s even helping the Blood Mage Sovereign. But vampires don’t get involved in politics, and I have no plans to start now.

“Grey, what’s the point of this call?”

“I wanted to remind you I’m still on your side.”

My lip curls, as if I’ve finally found the bad smell in this conversation.

When a kernel of disappointment lodges itself between my ribs, I realise I must’ve longed for connection far more than I assumed since leaving my self-imposed confinement. Grey and I have never been close, but to know the only reason for his call is to play politics has my hackles rising.

“The only side I’m on is my family. I’ll deal with Emma, then I want you out of my family business. Understood?”

There’s a pause, barely a second, but it hangs all the same. “Understood.”

I hang up and shove my phone back into my pocket as I stride towards my destination, and knock twice.

After a beat, Ramy calls, “I guess you can come in.”

Taking a deep breath, I exhale as I step into Ramy’s room.

The walls are soft beiges, fluffy creams, and warm browns. Blankets are tossed on chairs; his bed is scattered with silky pillows, and a picture of him, me, Rurik, and Lucero stands on one side of his bed. Another of Ramy, Golden and Kai on the other.

Ramy is curled up into a loveseat beside an unlit fireplace, a blanket over his lap and is pointedly staring at a book.

“Hello, Rahim.”

I’ve always liked the sound of Ramy’s full name, how Rahim ends in a release of breath. And as the only person who uses it, I’m somewhat possessive of the singular word.

My youngest remains quiet, flicking through pages like a dismissal.

I move towards him. “You’re angry with me.”