Upstairs, Sam's Room – Vincent Mansion
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.
Sam didn't move at first.
He stood in the center of his room—clean, cold, too quiet—and stared at nothing. The weight of the downstairs meeting pressed against his chest like stone.
They dismissed him. Again.
Because they thought he was soft.
Because they didn't trust him with blood and fire like Max or Silas.
Because maybe, deep down… they knew something was off.
"You're not like them," Oliver had whispered once, curled beside him on the rooftop.
"And that's your power, Sam. Not your weakness."
But it didn't feel like power now.
He crossed the room, fingers brushing the glass of his private liquor cabinet—untouched, unlike Silas's. Then he reached beneath the shelf, pressing a hidden latch.
Click.
A compartment popped open. Inside: a sealed envelope and a small, silver ring.
He took out the ring, staring at it.
Mate-bond seal.
Made in secret. Hidden from his family.
Worn only in private… or in memory.
He brushed his thumb over the symbol carved into the inside—a royal crest.
His mate wasn't just forbidden.
They were untouchable.
Royalty.
His breath hitched.
If Max or Silas ever found out—if Robert or Leo did—there'd be blood.
Not scandal.
War.
He tucked the ring back inside the compartment and shut it just as he heard a knock.
Light. Familiar.
Oliver.
Sam opened the door.
Oliver didn't say anything. Just stepped inside and handed him a small black pouch—more suppressants. And something else.
An invitation.
Gold. Embossed. Sealed with a wax crest.
The royal gala.
Sam stared at it, throat tightening.
Two weeks.
That was all the time he had left to stay invisible.
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