The day had passed uneventfully, but as Nyx stepped through the door of his house, a heavy sense of dread washed over him. The moment he had been dreading for weeks had finally arrived—the moment he would have to face his father and tell him the truth. He had known it was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. How long could he keep running from the inevitable?

  The air in the house felt wrong today. It was thick with something unspoken, suffocating, like a storm waiting to break. Nyx could feel it in his bones—the weight of Elias Blackthorn's gaze, the sheriff of Blackwater Hollow, who had always worn his authority like armor. But today, it wasn't just his father's anger that hung in the air—it was something far more profound. Elias already knew.

  His pulse quickened. How had his father found out? Nyx’s mind raced, but the fear was sharp enough to make him freeze. There was no point in pretending anymore. His secret was out.

  With a deep breath, Nyx dropped his bag onto the couch, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes flickered toward the door to his father’s office, the room where Elias held court with an unyielding grip. Inside, the dim light cast long shadows on the walls, and Elias sat in his worn leather chair, the paper in front of him nothing more than a prop to distract himself from the tension that filled the room. The sheriff’s broad shoulders hunched over the desk, but his posture was stiff, rigid—too controlled. Nyx knew it was because his father was waiting.

  “Late again,” Elias’s voice cut through the silence, low and measured, but there was an unmistakable edge. His eyes remained fixed on the papers, but Nyx could feel them on him, as if they could pierce right through him. “Or have you been avoiding me?”

  Nyx swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to lie, wanted to say something that could make this situation easier, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. “I needed time,” he muttered, his voice betraying him with its shakiness.

  Elias didn’t look up, but Nyx could feel the weight of his father’s gaze like a physical blow. His father’s hands didn’t twitch as he set the pen down with a soft click. Finally, he lifted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. The cold, unyielding expression on his face told Nyx all he needed to know.

  “Time for what?” Elias’s voice was low, a growl that lingered in the air. “To run from the truth?”

  Nyx’s heart skipped a beat. “I wasn’t running from anything,” he protested, though the words felt hollow even as he said them.

  “You’ve been avoiding the truth,” Elias snapped, his voice sharp, like a blade cutting through the fragile peace between them. “I know what you’ve done. I know you didn’t go to law school. You enrolled in the medicine program. You think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Nyx’s breath caught in his throat. How had his father known? Had someone tipped him off? Or was this just another moment in the endless game of cat and mouse they played, where Elias always seemed to be a step ahead?

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Nyx said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He wanted to say more, but the truth clung to the back of his throat like a brick.

  “You’ve already disappointed me,” Elias’s voice cracked with an anger that radiated off him. He stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, the sound like a shot through the silence. The air in the room felt like it thickened with his presence. “The Blackthorn name means something here, Nyx. It means something to this town. You think you can just throw all that away? For what? Some pipe dream?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Nyx’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. The anger burned in him, fierce and bright. “I’m not throwing it away,” he spat, his voice rising despite himself. “I’m doing what I believe is right! My mother—she was one of the greatest cardiovascular surgeons, and I want to be like her. I’m not going to hide in the shadow of some family legacy!”

  Elias’s face twisted, a cruel, mocking smile pulling at his lips. “You think this is about what’s right? About your mother?” His voice dropped, becoming dangerously low, like the growl of a predator. “This is about duty, Nyx. Duty to your family, to your name. You can’t just cast that aside because you feel like it.”

  “Maybe my duty isn’t to you,” Nyx shot back, his pulse quickening. “Maybe it’s to myself. Maybe to my mother—who you killed with your damn shotgun.” His words hung in the air like a detonated bomb, each one a sharp accusation. “I’m not going to live your life, Dad.”

  For a long moment, Elias stood silent, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His gaze was ice, unblinking, as if weighing the words Nyx had just spoken. Then, in a single, controlled motion, he took a step toward his son. “You’re living in my house,” he said, his voice low, threatening. “Under my roof. And as long as you’re here, you’ll follow my rules.”

  Nyx’s gaze drifted to the mantle, where an old sepia-toned photograph of his grandfather hung. Behind him, the looming figure of Blackwater Hollow’s original sheriff’s office stood stark against the wild forests. Beneath the photo, a faded inscription read: "Elias Blackthorn Sr.—Protector of the Hollow, 1923." His father noticed his lingering stare and grunted, “Your great-grandfather built this town’s safety with blood and grit. Don’t let that legacy die under your watch.”

  Nyx felt the weight of his father’s anger closing in around him, suffocating him. His heart pounded harder in his chest, and his fists trembled with the urge to fight back. “I don’t need this,” he muttered through clenched teeth, taking a step backward, away from the tension that threatened to crush him. “I don’t need you telling me how to live.”

  Without waiting for a response, Nyx turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such force that the whole house seemed to shake. His father’s voice—sharp, cutting, angry—followed him, but Nyx didn’t look back. He couldn’t. His heart was too full of rage, his mind too clouded with the weight of their confrontation.

  He didn’t stop until he was out of the house, onto the familiar streets of Blackwater Hollow. The small town that had always felt like home now felt alien, suffocating, like a cage. Every building, every street corner seemed to watch him, judging him. He walked on autopilot, his feet moving faster than his mind could process, until he found himself at the edge of the forest.

  The woods loomed in front of him, dark and silent, a twisted maze of trees. The air grew colder, heavier, and a strange sensation prickled at the back of Nyx’s neck. He wasn’t alone.

  His breath hitched as a figure stepped from the shadows—a tall, powerful silhouette, its presence unnerving. Nyx’s heart stuttered. The figure was unmistakably an Alpha, the glow of its red eyes burning through the dim twilight.

  Nyx froze. The world around him seemed to slow, the rustling leaves growing distant as his body responded to the danger. Something primal stirred deep inside him, a warning, a compulsion to run, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. He couldn’t move.

  The Alpha stepped closer, its eyes locked on him with a hunger that made Nyx’s blood run cold. This wasn’t a creature seeking peace or diplomacy—it was here for one reason.

  Nyx’s breath caught in his throat as the Alpha lunged with lightning speed, its teeth sinking into his side, ripping through flesh with excruciating force. A scream tore from his mouth, but it was swallowed by the oppressive night around him.

  Pain exploded through his body—hot, searing, unbearable. His vision blurred as his body convulsed, a shift overtaking him. He could feel it—the change consuming him from within. The pain was everywhere, from his head to his toe, it was everywhere

  The last thought that flashed through Nyx’s mind before darkness took him was simple: If I survive this, my father will kill me.