Chapter 76 Ask Jornic
Aelira’s POV
“I didn’t hear it clearly, but Cyrinne seemed to be apologizing,” Daelor explains.
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“I can’t believe she thinks a simple apology will make everything right,” I reply, my tone tight with anger.
Daelor glances at me, his silver–gray eyes reflecting understanding. “She’s just trying to save face. The video revealed her true character.”
I clench my fists, recalling the day of my mother’s funeral. “Do you remember what she said during my mother’s ceremony? She claimed it was ‘unfortunate‘ that my mother died without witnessing her son
happy with his ‘destined mate.‘ As if that were me!”
The memory feels like acid burning through me. My mother lay in her coffin, not even cold, and Cyrinne was already positioning herself as Alarion’s rightful partner.
“That stress contributed to my mother’s death,” I continue, my voice faltering slightly. “And now I learn that my own brother might be involved with her?”
Daelor leans over and tightly grips my hand. The action brings an unexpected sense of comfort.
“We will find out what’s happening,” he assures me.
I nod, summoning my determination. “I need to confront Jornic. I must understand what’s happening
between him and Cyrinne.”
“Are you really ready for this?” Daelor inquires, worry etched across his striking features.
“I have to be ready,” I respond resolutely. “He is my brother.”
Daelor swiftly contacts his enforcer wolves, who have been monitoring Jornic’s movements. In just a
few minutes, we obtain an address – a moderately priced hotel situated on the outskirts of town.
My heart races as we drive into the hotel parking lot. I am about to see my brother for the first time since our explosive argument following our mother’s funeral.
“Perhaps we should have dinner first,” Daelor proposes, noticing my anxious demeanor. “It might give
you a chance to settle your nerves before you face him.”
I nod in appreciation. “That’s likely a good idea.”
We locate a small diner nearby. Throughout the meal, Daelor keeps the discussion light, clearly
attempting to divert my attention from my anxiety. It works for a while.
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By the time we return to the hotel, darkness envelops the sky. We stand outside room 312, and I hesitate, my hand raised to knock.
“What if he refuses to talk to me?” I murmur.
Daelor’s formidable presence beside me is comforting. “He will talk.”
I take a deep breath and knock decisively on the door.
After a brief moment, I hear footsteps approaching. The door swings open, unveiling Jornic, my elder brother. He greets me with a smile that quickly vanishes upon seeing my face.
“Aelira?” His tone carries surprise and an undercurrent of panic.
His gaze flickers past me to Daelor, whose imposing figure fills the hallway. Jornic immediately attempts to slam the door shut, but Daelor’s hand shoots out, preventing it effortlessly.
“That’s not very brotherly,” Daelor remarks, his tone deceptively casual as he pushes the door wider.
Jornic takes a step back, his expression turning wary. “What do you want? And who is he?”
“This is Daelor Briarhallow,” I say, stepping into the room. “Alpha of the Nightshade Pack.”
Jornic’s complexion drains noticeably. Everyone in the Northern Territory is aware of Daelor’s
reputation.
Daelor scrutinizes Jornic for a moment. “I’ll wait outside. You two can have your conversation.” His silver–gray eyes flash with a warning as they lock onto my brother. “Make it civil.”
Jornic swallows hard, nodding stiffly. Once Daelor retreats into the hallway, Jornic turns his attention
to me.
“Why are you here, Aelira?” he asks, his voice tight.
I cross my arms defensively. “Were you anticipating a visitor? Perhaps Cyrinne?”
His expression flickers for a brief second. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Jornic,” I retort sharply. “I saw you with her this afternoon.
Jornic’s eyes widen in shock. “You were in that black SUV? With him?” He gestures toward the door
through which Daelor has just exited.
I brush aside his question. “What is happening between you and Cyrinne Wynthor?”
“Nothing,” he insists. “We are just friends.”
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“Friends?” I scoff with bitterness. “The woman who played a role in our mother’s death? The one trying to usurp Alarion’s position?”
Jomic’s expression hardens. “That’s not right. Alarion is the one who shattered your heart, not Cyrinne.
He’s the reason our mother ended up on her deathbed, consumed by worry for you.”
“Don’t twist this around,” I retort sharply. “I noticed how close you two seemed today. The way you supported her. Just how long has this been happening?”
“We are merely friends,” he asserts with conviction. “Cyrinne comprehends what I’ve experienced. She is someone who listens to me.”
I gaze at him with disbelief. “She listens to you? Jornic, she’s taking advantage of you! Whatever she has told you is a part of her plan.”
“You don’t really know her,” Jornic argues, his voice growing louder. “She’s not who you imagine.
“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow. “Then you must be aware she’s having a marking ceremony with Alarion at the end of the month?”
Jornic shakes his head vehemently. “That’s just for show. They’re merely friends.”
I struggle to accept what he’s saying. My own brother is thoroughly deceived by Cyrinne’s tricks.
“She’s pregnant, Jornic,” I state, observing his expression closely. “She claims the child is Alarion’s.”
The color drains from his face. “That’s… that can’t be true.”
His reaction confirms my suspicions. “So I was right. There is something happening between you
two.”
Jornic runs his fingers through his hair in distress. “You need to leave. She’ll be here shortly.”
“Great,” I reply coldly. “I have a lot to discuss with her as well.”
“No!” Jornic seizes my arm. “You cannot be here when she shows up. Consider her reputation, what people would say if they found out-”
“If they found out what?” I challenge. “That she’s been playing you and Alarion both? That the pup may not even be Alarion’s?”
“It’s not like that,” Jornic insists, tightening his hold on my arm. “Cyrinne has endured so much. Her former mate’s accident, the demands of her role-”
“Release me,” I demand, pulling my arm free. “I refuse to leave until I have answers.”
“This isn’t just about answers!” Jornic yells. “This is about your jealousy that Cyrinne is moving on with
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her life while you’re still fixated on a mate who never truly wanted you!”
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His words hit me like a physical blow. “Is that what she’s told you? That Alarion didn’t want me?”
“It’s pretty clear, isn’t it?” Jornic shoots back. “He leaped at the first opportunity to be with her. Our mother has passed because of your foolish insistence on clinging to a mate who has never belonged
to you!”
“Do not dare hold me responsible for mother’s death,” I say, my voice trembling, with rage. “I was by her
side every single day, caring for her, while you were nowhere in sight!”
“I couldn’t stand to watch her like that!” Jornic shouts. “I’ll, dying, constantly fretting about you
because you wouldn’t let go of Alarion!”
“I did let him go!” I fire back. “I requested the severance of our mate bond before our mother even
passed away!”
“Too little, too late,” Jornic says harshly. “Now leave. Cyrinne will arrive any moment.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assert, planting my feet resolutely.
Panic flashes across Jornic’s face. He grabs my arm once more, trying to pull me toward the door.
“You need to leave. Now. Cyrinne’s reputation cannot withstand another scandal.”
“Let me go!” I fight against his hold.
“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Jornic snaps. “It always has been! You never consider anyone else!”
His remarks fuel my anger. “Me? I gave everything for our family! Where were you when mother
needed us? Apparently off somewhere with Cyrinne!”
“You murmured her!” Jornic yells, his face twisted with fury. “Your fixation on Alarion is what took our
mother’s life!”
The accusation strikes me like a physical blow. Before I can react, Jornic pushes me hard. I stagger
backward, colliding painfully with the door.
A sharp pain jolts through my lower back, and I instinctively place my hand on my stomach, anxiously thinking of my unborn pup.
Just then, the door swings open. Daelor stands there, his imposing figure filling the doorway. His silver–gray eyes scan the scene–me pressed against the door, hand on my belly, my face pale with distress.
“Aelira?” Concern fills his voice as he approaches me. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I reply quickly, attempting to minimize what just occurred. “We were just talking.”
But Daelor doesn’t pay attention to my words. His gaze has turned to Jornic, his silver–gray eyes
darkening to the hue of a tempest. In a single, fluid motion, he strides across the room and drives his
fist into my brother’s face.
