Darrien's Perspective

Darrien already had his next move plotted out before his parents even caught wind of the breakup. Without hesitation, he slid behind the wheel and drove straight to The Vibe.

The club was eerily quiet in the middle of the afternoon, the dim lights casting long shadows over the glossy floors. A couple of staff members milled about, polishing glasses and rearranging bar stools. The steady hum of low music thrummed in the background, almost drowned out by the sound of Darrien's footsteps as he crossed the threshold.

Leander Oswald was there, lounging casually at the bar. His auburn hair caught the muted light, shimmering with rich undertones of copper and gold. Olive-green eyes lifted when Darrien approached, brightening instantly. Leander was a second-class omega, delicate and lithe, and with an easy elegance that made him stand out without trying. He was just a shade taller than Darrien, but the warmth in his expression erased any trace of superiority.

"Riri!" Leander's face lit up with a wide smile. He hopped off the barstool and wrapped Darrien in a tight hug. "How are you?"

Darrien allowed himself to relax into the embrace for a brief moment. Leander's pheromones carried the crisp sweetness of blueberries blended with the fresh earthiness of grass — a soothing combination that suited him perfectly.

"Great as always," Darrien replied, though the stiffness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Leander pulled back, linking his arm through Darrien's as he led him toward the bar, and signaling the bartender. "A mineral water for him."

"Thanks," Darrien murmured as the bartender slid the glass across the counter. He took a measured sip before setting it down. "I need a new personal guard."

Leander's brows lifted. "What happened to Cass?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I thought you liked him."

Darrien's mouth twisted into a thin smile. "You know how they are," he said, injecting as much distaste as possible into his tone.

"Oh." Leander's expression darkened, a flicker of disappointment passing through his gaze. "Cass really didn't seem like that type… but I guess you never really know someone until the mask slips and they cross the line."

"Yeah." Darrien's smile was humorless as he swirled the glass in his hand, watching the light refract through the water. "Anyway, I'm thinking of hiring one of the bouncers as a temporary replacement. I don't have the patience for interviews."

"Sure! Take your pick." Leander's smile returned, bright and eager.

"There's another thing," Darrien said carefully. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass. "I need to sell my half of the club and the hotel. As soon as possible. Are you interested?"

Leander's eyes widened. "What? Why?" His voice sharpened with concern. "Did something happen? Did your mother… or Kaylen… find out?"

Darrien shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I'm starting an internship at the company and I want to focus on designing my own line of jewels while there. The club and the hotel might be a distraction."

"That makes sense," Leander said slowly, though his brows remained drawn. "You've always been interested in design… but I don't think I have enough funds to buy your half."

"It's fine." Darrien's smile turned faintly sly. "I'll give you a 40% discount."

Leander's mouth fell open. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. You've helped me more times than I can count. I'd be an asshole if I ignored that."

"But I did it because we're friends," Leander said, his lower lip jutting slightly in a playful pout.

Yeah, Darrien knew that. Just like Cass, Leander genuinely cared about him. They'd been friends since childhood. 

"I know," Darrien said, clasping Leander's hand in his own. His thumb brushed over the curve of Leander's knuckles. "But I still want to give you the discount. You can wire the money after the paperwork is settled."

"Okay." Leander's smile returned, radiant and boyish. "I'll call my lawyer right away."

Darrien watched him walk away, the sound of his steps fading as the club's door swung shut behind him. The hotel and the club had been meant to be a temporary distraction since the beginning. They had always been Leander's dream. Darrien had only meant to help his friend fulfill it, but now that they were both profitable businesses, it was time to move on and let Leander be fully in charge of them.

Darrien left the club and checked into one of the hotel's penthouse suites. Before leaving, he quickly chose his new bodyguard — Rex, a reliable beta who had been working at the club since its opening.

"Guard outside the room," Darrien told Rex. "Only come in if I call for you."

Rex gave a sharp nod. Darrien didn't plan to train Rex the way he had trained Cass. He lacked the energy — or the desire. Rex was more of a symbol than a necessity, a way to prove to his mother that he had already moved on. That Cass had meant nothing.

Darrien had some dinner and waited around till two in the morning when he slipped out of the hotel with Rex trailing silently behind him. The city streets were dark and hollow, the distant hum of traffic barely audible over the low rustle of a cool night breeze. Apart from tying up loose ends with Leander, there was one more task left — one final visit to the person who had helped set everything into motion.

Myara.

The witch lived on the outskirts of the capital, where the city's polished edges gave way to the wild tangle of the southern forest. The road through the woods was narrow and uneven, the trees pressing close like dark sentinels. Darrien instructed Rex to stay behind with the car at the edge of the forest. This was a meeting he had to face alone.

The trees swallowed him whole as he walked down the winding dirt path, the canopy above so dense that even the moonlight couldn't reach through. Darrien's phone flashlight cut a thin line of light through the blackness, illuminating twisted roots and damp leaves underfoot. The night was unnervingly quiet, except for the occasional rustle in the underbrush — small, sharp sounds that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

At the heart of the woods stood Myara's cabin — a weathered wooden structure nestled between overgrown flowerbeds and a crumbling stone well. Cats lounged lazily on the porch, their glowing eyes reflecting the weak light. No one knew how old Myara was, but she had not changed a bit since Darrien first met her at the age of five. Her appearance was timeless — a woman with flowing black hair, crimson eyes that burned with ancient knowledge, and an ageless beauty that teetered between captivating and terrifying.

Myara was waiting for him, seated on a large wooden swing set beneath the shadow of an old oak tree. The swing creaked softly as it swayed, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet of the woods.

"Welcome, young master," Myara's lips curled into a smile, but her crimson eyes glinted with quiet menace.

"Myara." Darrien inclined his head slightly, a cold shiver running down his spine.

Myara's smile widened. "So… have you come to ask if everything is being returned to its rightful place?"

Darrien's mouth tightened. "Yes. I think Kaylen and Asahin have found their way back to each other."

Myara's laugh was soft but sharp, cutting through the night air like a knife. "Ah yes… the two souls that were destined to find each other from the beginning. Magic can fight against such strong attraction only for so long before it unravels."

"And the consequences?" Darrien's voice was steady, but his fingers curled tightly at his sides.

"The consequences for whom, young master? For you… or in general?"

"The ones concerning me," he clarified.

Myara rose from the swing with an eerie grace, her long deep-green velvet dress trailing behind her as she approached him. She was taller than him, and when her crimson eyes locked on his, Darrien had to fight the urge to step back.

"Humans are born with two destinies," Myara began, her voice low and hypnotic. "The one they are given… and the one they carve out for themselves. But you…" Her fingernail brushed along his cheek, cold and sharp. "Because of your mother, you have three destinies. The one you were born with. The one you can choose. And the one you stole."

Darrien's jaw tightened. "And the stolen one?"

"It's nearly spent," Myara said, her gaze piercing. "You've drawn everything you could from it. There's not much left to take."

"I figured as much."

"The punishment for interfering with fate and one's free will is steep," Myara continued, her breath ghosting over his cheek. "But… sometimes the gods are merciful." She grinned. "It remains to be seen if you will be blessed with that mercy — or if you will be made to pay for your transgressions."

Her hand dropped away, her expression darkening. "Nevertheless, your blood will be spilled. Quite possibly in these very woods."

Darrien's eyes flicked toward the forest shadows. A cold pulse of unease thrummed beneath his skin as the feeling of being watched intensified. The darkness between the trees seemed to breathe.

"You should be on your way, young master." Myara's voice was soft, almost sweet, but perilous. Her crimson eyes glinted dangerously beneath the moonlight as she turned toward the swing. "I have nothing more to tell you. In fact…" Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "I've already told you more than you deserve."

The night creaked around them as Myara's velvet dress whispered against the ground. She settled back into the swing, the wooden frame groaning under her weight. The rhythmic sound of the swing disturbing through the thick silence felt almost hypnotic.

Darrien stood there for a moment, disappointment curling in his chest. He had hoped for more — something concrete, something useful — but Myara had always been like this. Offering just enough to make you question everything, but never enough to give you real answers.

Swallowing his frustration, he turned to leave. 

"One last thing," Myara's voice floated through the darkness, "Consequences or your chosen destiny… await you at the edge of the woods, young master."

Darrien's breath hitched. A shiver crept down his spine as the swing creaked once more behind him. He didn't look back.

He quickened his pace, weaving through the dark path as his phone's flashlight carved out a way for him. The feeling of being watched tightened around his throat like cold fingers. The shadows between the trees seemed alive, shifting and stretching unnaturally. Every crack of a branch, every rustle of leaves, made his pulse hammer in his ears.

When he finally spotted the shimmer of his car's headlights through the trees, relief rushed through him. Rex's tall silhouette stood by the driver's side, his face shadowed beneath the low glow of the lights.

"Rex," Darrien called out, his breath uneven. "Start the car." He reached for the back door handle, eager to put this night behind him.

But before his fingers could brush the handle, strong hands seized his shoulders and spun him around so violently that his feet barely touched the ground before his back slammed into the side of the car.

"W-what—?"

Thick fingers curled around his throat, squeezing hard enough to make his vision flicker at the edges.

"Sorry, sir," Rex's voice was low, dripping with dark amusement. His face twisted into a cold, predatory smile. "But you're not going anywhere."

Darrien's hands flew to Rex's wrists, clawing desperately at his grip. His breath was strangled, his legs kicking uselessly beneath him as his back scraped painfully against the car's cold metal.

"Wh-what… are… you doing?" Darrien gasped, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Rex's eyes gleamed. "You've made too many enemies, sir. I've been trying to figure out how to get you alone and finish the job for months — but wouldn't you know it?" His smile widened, teeth flashing. "You handed me this opportunity yourself."

Darrien's vision blurred as his lungs screamed for air. His hands scrabbled uselessly against Rex's iron grip.

"Now…" Rex's breath was hot against his ear. "Die, so I can get rich and finally leave this cursed kingdom."

Desperation surged through Darrien as he released his pheromones — a thick, sharp wave of dread — but Rex's smirk didn't waver. He was a beta. It wouldn't work.

And yet… Rex's hands began to tremble. His breath stuttered, and his grip loosened just enough —

Darrien shoved him back with all the strength he had left. Rex stumbled. Darrien turned, gasping as he faltered toward the trees — but his legs were weak, his vision swimming.

A harsh yank at the collar of his shirt sent him reeling backward.

Rex slammed him face-first against the side of the car.

Pain detonated through Darrien's skull. Warmth trickled down his face — blood. His knees buckled, the world tilting sideways beneath his feet.

"You filthy whore," Rex snarled, dragging him back into a crushing headlock.

Darrien's limbs went slack. His strength was bleeding out of him, his mind slipping into a foggy haze. This was it. This was how it ended.

But then —

A flash of movement.

The sound of a body hitting the ground.

Rex's grip was torn away from his throat.

Darrien collapsed to his knees, coughing violently as cold air rushed into his lungs. Through the haze of blood and dizziness, he could barely make out the shapes of two figures — locked together in a vicious blur of limbs and shadows.

A sharp grunt. The crack of bone. A strangled gasp.

And then silence.

Footsteps — rapid and urgent — closed in.

Darrien's head hit the damp grass, his body too weak to move. Through the thin haze of his half-lidded eyes, he saw someone crouch beside him. But before he could see this person's face, everything went completely dark.