TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 84: FALL OF THE WILDEROSE HOUSE

VALORIA WILDEROSE

I’m grateful for the fact that the very next day we begin packing up to leave this place I once called home. Finally.

It no longer has anything left for me, not for a while.

Due to Father’s involvement in plotting against the crown and committing treason, all his assets are to be seized and absorbed by the crown; the servants are to be let go, and my siblings—each of my sisters, for being tied to the once-prestigious Wilderose house—are all to be taken into custody.

All but myself, for no longer having ties with them, and Sister Lyra, due to her ties with the Temple of the Moon Goddess.

In one night, the prestigious Wilderose family crumbles into nothing by the hands of one man.

"You! You ruined this family, you worthless whore!" Father screams as he’s being led out of the house, to be transferred to the castle prison.

I finally see what Marcella had meant last night, and truly, he’d be better off dead right now.

His skin is pale and dry, white floss hair with most of his muscle mass completely nonexistent. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Only skin and bone—like he’s been hit by a wave of mysterious illness that has aged him significantly and terribly.

Something I imagine Azrael had a huge play in, considering what he had done to Ronan right in front of me.

"You’re going to be abandoned and die just like she did. You will never have any meaning or happiness," he spits, venomous curses spilling as he struggles with the guard dragging him toward the truck that will be transporting him and everyone else.

I flinch against my will, trying not to let the words affect me anymore, finding the lies in them—but despite my bravery, they sting.

I wish I could take back the years I desired and craved his love, the years I crawled and begged at his feet to look at me with an ounce of affection, and even the little part of me that still clings to him now.

But my wishes never come true.

Hands cover my ears all of a sudden, blocking out the rest of his crass, degrading words before I can hear them.

I look up instinctively, meeting the displeased look on Azrael’s face as he watches Father being dragged off.

"That’s enough bullshit for a lifetime, don’t you think?" he speaks, now looking at me with a boyish grin that begs for my attention instead.

It’s too contagious not to smile too, but I stop myself after a second and pull away from him.

"I guess I should be saying thank you?"

"That’s what anyone would typically do." His shoulders rise, prideful, waiting for me to do the needful.

I lose control over my lips entirely, and the smile returns wider and stronger.

"Thank you, Azrael. Although I know that most of this wasn’t specifically done for me. It has something to do with your mission, doesn’t it?"

"You catch on."

"It was easy to piece some things together, especially after Ronan’s transformation."

I recall his reaction—surprised, yet somehow expecting to be surprised by something in general. Just not witnessing Ronan die and become some undead, mutated Lycan.

"There are a few blank spots I haven’t figured out yet, like what you meant when you said ’you didn’t make him.’"

"I can make werewolves into Lycans. Haven’t done it in a century, but it’s something I did before." He blurts it out from nowhere.

I freeze, not expecting the sudden confession. I’m used to him revealing things to me without hesitation, but still... it’s almost as if he’s compelled to answer everything I ask.

"Like a vampire?"

"Something like that, but without the ’needing blood to survive’ and ’crumbling underneath sunlight’ parts. It requires my blood and a spell. The process is very detailed."

I have a lot of questions.

Like how he does it, and how he even knows how to do it in the first place—but I get the feeling it will all lead down a rabbit hole of lore and gore I’m not ready for right now.

I assume the fact that he seemed disturbed by it means this particular lore restricts the ability to make a Lycan from a werewolf solely to Azrael alone—the first and only Lycan created by a god.

"Well... if you didn’t make him, and you haven’t turned a werewolf in centuries, then who did?"

This time he hesitates. A deep frown creases between his eyebrows as he turns serious.

"That is what I intend to find out, and what you shouldn’t involve yourself in. Whoever they are, they’re dangerous enough to dabble in things they have no idea about."

I stare at him, speechless, offering a quiet nod.

I know that the few times Azrael isn’t laughing or making a joke of serious things, it often means whatever he’s referring to is dangerous.

Dangerous enough to leave someone with infinite power like him spooked.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asks.

I take a final glance toward the big extravagant life and reminisce on fleeting memories before I nod, whispering, "Yeah."

Both of us move toward the waiting car, past the guards and the maids about to leave, and they all form a path, bowing their heads.

For the first time, their heads remain down even as I pass closely behind him.

I spot Sister Lyra again in the far back, and the priestess who has been absent this whole time watches us get into the car.

Watching me in particular with a cryptic and almost comforting look in their eyes—free from resentment for ruining the family, unlike everyone else.

I’m entrapped by it for a moment before prying my eyes away, silently hoping it will be the last time we have to meet.

We leave the manor and the Wilderose pack, and just like before, it takes hours to return.

I enjoy the peaceful silence amidst it, revel in my newfound confidence and my new voice I can now use to speak up for and defend myself.

Azrael remains in his own world, deep in thought. I imagine it has a lot to do with the mysterious person doing Lycan experiments underneath his nose.

Unlike before the trip began, the tension that had hung over our heads is but a memory, and I don’t know what it means or if I want to bother thinking about it either.

For whatever reason, he isn’t as cruel or wicked as he presented himself to be initially. It could be a new ploy, although I feel doubtful that it is.

Which is the next concerning thing: this new interest he has in keeping me safe and alive. It feels genuine.

I don’t want to find comfort in it—goddess knows how long it will last before it fizzles and he grows cold again. But then... I don’t want it to end.

I don’t need our conversations anymore to be able to speak without a stutter, but I still want the talks, the banter.

To argue and scream at the top of my lungs and feel like whatever bullshit I say matters.

I hate to admit it, but a part of me worries that everything will fade the second we’re back.

His coldness will return and that wall between us will rise again, higher than a tower.

It’s an absurd thing to think like this about someone you believe is pure evil enough to be killed.

So I watch him silently from the corner of my eyes, fully aware of the space he takes up in the back with me and the distance between us—constant—until the car rolls into castle grounds.

I’m biting my lips to say something and break the hour‑long silence between us until the car parks.

I suck in a breath to speak, but then his door is opened and he steps out without looking back, and my foolish, expectant heart sinks.

Idiot... what were you expecting, a goodbye from the devil?

I mentally smack myself before opening my own door and jumping out as well.

Maids and servants line up, getting our things out of the car, and almost instantly Azrael is busy—speaking with officials, looking at documents that are being brought to him, things needing his immediate attention.

Eros stands right next to him, discussing something in hushed whispers. We haven’t even settled in, and the entire world has him swept away while I stand there awkwardly.

I pry my eyes away, ignoring the second sting—realizing I’d let myself grow too dependent on his gaze solely because he was a lesser evil, and now I’ll need to wean myself off it.

"Valoria!" a voice screams my name.

I look up toward the main entrance, and Calliope is running toward me with her arms open.

I don’t get the chance to react before she collides into me, wrapping her hands around me in a tight hug, Elodie and Yara following close behind.

"We missed you so much," she confesses, and my heart fills up again.

I reciprocate—hugging back, hugging tighter, with more confidence than I used to. We pull apart, and Elodie takes the chance to step up to my face.

"What was it like far away from castle life? Did you have fun? Did you go sightseeing? Don’t tell me you stayed indoors like you usually do?"

"She’s not going to be able to answer if you suffocate her like that," Yara responds, rolling her eyes at Elodie’s eagerness.

"We both know you were just as worried as the rest of us when she stopped responding to our texts yesterday. Stop acting like you have no soul." She quips brutally.

In an instant, they’re locked in a glare, about to throw hands any moment.

"It’s okay. I’m fine, guys." I step between them.

"You hear that, Yara? She’s fine, so you don’t need to act tough and—wait... did you just talk without stuttering?" Her head snaps toward me with surprise.

Light bulbs go off over their heads, and they all stare at me wide‑eyed.

I’m embarrassed by their intense stares and hide my face away, blushing before I nod slightly.

"WHAT?" they yell in unison, shocked and rushing closer, staring at my face as though all the answers are inscribed on it.

"Oh my gosh... it’s a miracle," Elodie exclaims, overly dramatic.

"What happened to you?" Calliope prods, concern flickering in her eyes.

"It’s a long story," I offer instead, too overwhelmed to start going into details right now.

"It’s a good thing we’ve got booze and time, darling. So you can go into the grimy detail."

Suddenly Elodie and Calliope tug me forward toward the door for another slumber party with alcohol and gossip—but something holds me back.

"Wait, I—"

My eyes flicker to the car again, where he was standing with Eros. Held back by the desire to at least say something again before leaving and getting swept up in our separate lives.

But he’s not there anymore.

Gone like the wind.

My chest constricts.

I reinforce my smile, facing the three of them again.

"Never mind."