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VINCENT'S POV
The halls were too quiet. Everyone had gone to their rooms, but I couldn't sleep. My head was a storm, and the only thing that made sense right now was the half-empty bottle in my hand.
I stopped in front of Liam's door and knocked once. He opened it, looking tired but calm. "You're still awake?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I said and walked in without waiting.
His room was simple. He gave me a look that said he knew I didn't come to talk about the weather. I dropped into a chair and pushed the bottle toward him.
"Drink?"
He took it, sighed, and poured us both a glass.
We sat there for a while, not saying much. Just the sound of the fire and the faint clink of glass.
"How's the pack?" I asked finally.
"Stable," Liam said. "We're still rebuilding. Some don't trust her rule yet, but they follow. Out of fear, maybe."
I nodded. "Fear works."
He frowned. "It shouldn't always have to."
I ignored that and took another sip. The drink burned, but I liked the burn. It reminded me I was still alive.
We talked about the borders, the trade routes, the younger wolves, all the little things that didn't matter. I almost felt human again.
Then he said, softly, "I saw Mason. His face looks bad."
"He'll live," I said flatly.
"Why did you hit your son?."
"He opened his mouth when he shouldn't have."
Liam sighed. "He's just a boy."
"Then he should learn when to shut up."
We went quiet again. I could feel his eyes on me. I knew what he wanted to ask, but I didn't want to answer.
After a long pause, he finally said, "You know, you look more like your brother when you're angry."
I looked up. "Don't."
He smiled faintly. "I mean it. The same eyes. The same way of hiding what you really feel."
I poured another drink. "My brother hid too much. That's why he's dead."
Liam didn't argue. He just leaned back and watched me. Then, almost too quietly, he said, "You ever think about him? About what he left behind?"
My jaw tightened. "Every damn day."
There was something in Liam's face then, something he wanted to say but didn't. His eyes kept darting away, and his jaw moved like he was chewing on words he couldn't swallow.
"What is it?" I asked, setting the bottle of drink down between us.
He looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "Just take it easy on Paris, Vincent. She's been through a lot."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
He rubbed his hand over his neck, avoiding my eyes. "You're not even the first king she's danced for."
My chest tightened. "What did you just say?"
Liam looked uneasy, but he nodded. "Before she came here, she used to dance for other kings. It was part of a deal... something about Selene's debts. She never talks about it."
The words hit me hard. My grip tightened around the glass until I thought it might crack. I tried to stay calm, but heat rushed through me. "She danced for other kings?"
"Vincent..."
"No," I interrupted, speaking quietly. "Explain what you mean to me." He let out another, lighter sigh. "Every detail is unknown to me. I simply know that she had no other option. She was trying to live.
I slowly leaned and gazed at the wall behind him. I had trouble breathing for a moment, and my chest felt heavy. Something burned in my throat when I felt Paris in another man's hands, smiling, swaying, and acting. The anger remained even after I swallowed it.
My hand was trembling a little as I poured more drink. "Liam, do you think I don't understand pain?" I whispered. "You don't think I know what it's like to lose control?"
He now had a worried expression. "I didn't mean that, Vincent. I'm merely saying... She is not like other girls. You need to be careful with her. I watched the drink ripple as I gazed into the glass. I looked like a stranger in my own reflection.
My brother's death, the throne, the endless noise, none of it had made me feel this weak. But hearing about her... it did. And I had no idea why. I let out a low, broken laugh. Liam's eyes widened.
"Vincent?" With my chest still burning, I glanced up at him. "Liam, you know what's funny?" "What?" "This evening, when she entered my room... I almost kissed her.
Liam's eyes went wide. "Vincent..."
"You're now claiming that she once performed for other kings. I shook my head and laughed rough. "Perhaps I am genuinely prone to madness." With a worried expression on his face, Liam leaned forward. "Don't beat yourself up, Vincent.
You've been through enough. You're tired, angry, just let it go for tonight."
I looked at him, my hands curling into fists on my knees. "No, Liam. Someone's been playing games with me, and I don't like games."
"Who?" he asked carefully.
I stood up, the chair scraping the floor. "Selene." The name came out like poison. "She has been using Paris." I clenched my jaw. "When I'm done with her, she'll wish she was never born."
Liam rose halfway, his hand lifting as if to stop me. "Vincent, don't..."
I cut him off with a small wave of my hand. "Not tonight. I'll deal with it later." My voice dropped lower, calm but dangerous. "I just need to think."
Suddenly, it seemed as though the walls were closing in on the room. There were many things in the air that neither of us wanted to discuss. I turned to the door and picked up the bottle of drink. "Liam, we'll talk later. Take a rest.
I didn't wait to hear what he had to say. I closed the door behind me and went outside. My hands continued to shake. I couldn't tell if it came from pain, rage, or both. All I knew was that something had broken inside of me, and I wasn't sure if I could fix it.
I was surprised to see her when I opened my room's door.
At that moment, Paris came out from the bathroom with steam still trailing behind her. Tiny drops trickled down her skin, and her hair was damp, clinging to her neck. The robe I had given her was tied loosely around her waist.
Just by standing there, she gave the impression that she had no idea what she was doing to me. I briefly lost my ability to breathe. I stood there looking foolishly, my hand still on the doorknob. I could hear my heart beating like a drum inside my chest, the sound of the water dripping, and her slow footsteps on the floor.
She saw me staring and looked up. With a sharp tone, she asked, "What?"
I looked away too quickly after clearing my throat. "Nothing." I sounded lower than normal.
"You're finished."
"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. Even though I didn't mean to, I glanced again when she brushed her hair to the side. Trying to think of something else, I turned to the table and poured myself a drink. I whispered, "You shouldn't walk around that way."
"Like what?" she shot back.
"Like..." I stopped. Damn it, I didn't even know how to finish. "Never mind."
She crossed her arms. "Say it."
I set the cup down harder than I meant to. "Forget it, Paris."
Her lips pressed tight, and for a second, she looked ready to argue. But instead, she asked, "Why didn't you ever come back?"
The question hit me like a slap. My fingers tensed on the glass. "This isn't the time."
"When is the time then?" she shouted. Her voice shook, not from fear but from anger. "He was your brother, Vincent! My father! You let me stand in front of you not even knowing who you were!"
I looked at her, and I swear something inside me twisted. "You don't understand what happened," I said, keeping my tone low.
"Then make me understand!" she yelled again. "Or can't you because you're too ashamed?"
I felt the heat rising in me. "Enough, Paris."
"No!" she shouted, stepping closer. "You think you can just hide behind your power and your stupid calm voice and make everything go away"
"Paris," I said again, this time softer.
She stopped, breathing hard, tears welling up in her eyes. I hated that. I hated seeing her cry. The anger in me just... faded.
"Please," I said quietly. "Not tonight. We've both had enough. You've had enough. Finding out this way" I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "It's too much for one night."
She shook her head. "I don't want to stay here."
I looked at her, straight in the eyes. "You will." My tone left no room for argument. "You'll stay here. With me."
