The three days it took Silas to reach the Northern border were the hardest of his life. Without the "Neutralizer" drug in his system, his body was on fire. Every nerve felt raw, and the cold mountain air felt like ice against his skin. He moved slowly, hiding in the shadows of the trees and sleeping in abandoned sheds. He was a "Vane Ghost," but now he felt like a real ghost—fading away and hungry for a home that felt further away with every step.
On the second night, Silas could no longer walk. He was too weak. He crawled toward a small, hidden cabin in the woods. This was the home of Kael, an old scout who had served with Silas years ago. Kael was the only person in the North that Silas truly trusted.
When Kael opened the door, his eyes went wide. He quickly pulled Silas inside and sat him near the fire, giving him a bowl of warm broth.
"You look like death, Silas," Kael whispered, looking at the royal mark on Silas's neck. "The rumors are true then. The Prince claimed you."
"I escaped, Kael," Silas said, his hands shaking as he held the bowl. "I'm going home to the fortress. I have the intel. I have the secrets Alaric wanted to hide."
Kael's face went pale. He didn't look happy. Instead, he looked worried. "Silas... things are not the same at the fortress. Your father, the Duke, has been acting strange. He is making deals with people from the South. The family doesn't feel like a family anymore. It feels like a war camp."
Silas shook his head. "It's just the stress of the war. Once I show them what I've found, everything will go back to normal. My brother, Julian, is still in the Prince's prison. I have to find a way to get him out."
Kael looked into the fire and sighed. "Just be careful, Silas. Sometimes the cage you know is safer than the 'home' you remember."
Silas didn't listen. He rested for a few hours and then pushed forward. He wanted his family. He wanted his brother. He wanted to prove that he was still a loyal soldier, not just a Prince's toy.
On the third day, Silas finally reached the heavy iron gates of the Vane Fortress. He expected to have to sneak in, but the gates were already standing open. It was as if they were waiting for him.
He walked into the Great Hall, his heart beating fast. The room was cold and dark, but a fire was burning in the hearth. Standing by the fire was a man in expensive furs, holding a glass of wine.
Silas stopped in his tracks. His jaw dropped.
"Julian?" Silas breathed. "How... how are you here? I left the palace three days ago. You were locked in the deepest cell in the Royal Dungeon. How did you get here before me?"
Julian turned around and smiled. It wasn't a smile of relief. It was the smile of a predator.
"It's good to see you, little brother," Julian said, taking a slow sip of his wine. "You look exhausted. Walking across the mountains must have been very difficult for you."
"Answer me!" Silas shouted, his voice echoing in the hall. "Who rescued you? I was coming for you! I was going to save you!"
Julian laughed, and the sound made the hair on Silas's neck stand up. "Save me? You couldn't even save yourself, Silas. I didn't need a rescue. Prince Alaric walked into my cell the day you disappeared. He opened the door himself."
Silas felt the world spinning. "Alaric... released you?"
"He told me that a 'gift' for his mate was long overdue," Julian said, stepping closer. "He gave me a horse, a bag of gold, and a message. He told me to come home and wait for you. He said you would be coming back to find your 'family,' and he wanted to make sure I was here to welcome you."
Silas felt a cold pit of dread in his stomach. Alaric hadn't just let him go. He had sent the "snake" home first.
"Why?" Silas whispered. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he knows me," Julian hissed, his voice turning cold. "And he knows our father. He knew exactly what we would do the moment you walked through those gates. He didn't release me as a favor to you, Silas. He released me because he wanted you to see that your precious 'home' is nothing but a den of thieves."
Before Silas could run, Julian snapped his fingers. Four guards stepped out from the shadows, their rifles aimed at Silas's chest.
"Welcome home, Silas," Julian said, his eyes gleaming with greed. "The Southerners are paying a very high price for a marked mate. You're going to make us very, very rich."
Silas looked at his brother and finally understood. Alaric hadn't trapped him. His own blood had.