The car rolled to a gentle halt in front of the palace's towering mahogany doors, polished to a high sheen and flanked by stone columns that screamed old money. He exhaled a heavy sigh before pushing open the car door and stepping out onto the gravel drive. The crisp Oregon air hit him immediately, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked earth and pine.
Behind him, Atlas and the driver moved with practiced efficiency, unloading the luggage from the trunk, separating Zion's sleek black suitcases from Atlas' more utilitarian bags, stacking them neatly by the entrance steps.
He paused for a beat, then approached the doors, his fingers working deliberately at the silver cuffs of his red silk shirt sleeves, rolling them up to his forearms in a casual slouch. He adjusted his collar with a flick, then popped open the top two buttons, exposing a hint of collarbone beneath the rich crimson fabric. It was no accident, this was a small act of rebellion.
He could already picture her reaction: the sharp intake of breath, the flash of fury in her eyes at his "improper" dishevelment. Elvira Ashcroft demanded perfection, especially from her son, and he was more than ready to give her a spark to ignite the inevitable explosion. With a final, defiant tug at his shirt, he raised his hand and knocked at the doors.
The heavy mahogany doors slid open with a soft creak, revealing the familiar figure of an older man standing just inside the grand foyer.
Zion's heart lifted at the sight. If Butler Kai was the first face to greet him upon arrival, the day might not turn out as grim as he'd braced for.
The older man broke into a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The boy he'd watched grow up over the years had become a striking man, though Kai couldn't help wishing life had dealt him a gentler hand. He'd served the Ashcroft family for thirty years now, entering their world as a young boy alongside his father, who had tended to Zion's great-grandfather and grandfather with unwavering loyalty. When his father passed, Kai had stepped into the role without hesitation, repaying the family that had treated him like one of their own.
Maybe that's why he felt such a pull toward Zachary Ashcroft's second son, Zion—the one who seemed to carry the weight of the world with quiet fire.
"Your royal handsomeness," Kai teased, stepping closer with a playful bow, his voice laced with the easy affection of old times.
Zion let out a genuine chuckle, a smile breaking through his guarded expression. Butler Kai had always been a bright spot in this place, full of humor that cut through the tension. "Oh, come off it, Kai. You and I both know you're not thrilled to see me waltz back in."
"Perhaps you're right," Kai replied with a knowing glint in his eye. "Your room has always been the hardest to put in order..." He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. Kai had always been thankful for his own tall, lean build; otherwise, Zion's imposing frame would have left him craning his neck just to meet the young master's gaze. "...The Moon Goddess only knows the atrocities you've packed into all those boxes!" he exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock horror.
Zion's lips curved into a wicked grin. "You and I both know I've got a real knack for atrocities."
"No surprise you spent so much time in that city of atrocities," Kai shot back, his tone playful. "Wining and dining with all the beautiful daughters of—"
"Say no more, please..." Zion interrupted, biting back a laugh that threatened to double him over.
Kai's expression softened, genuine warmth breaking through. "I'm so glad you're back, young master. But I'm certain the Luna is even happier than I am."
His smile faded instantly at the mention of his mother, the easy lightness evaporating like mist.
Kai caught the shift but let it pass without comment, though the strained bond between Elvira and her son flickered through his mind—an aftermath of that event, the one that had shattered the Ashcroft family forever. He shook his head to dispel the memory and plastered his smile back in place. It wasn't something he cared to dwell on.
"I was hoping I wouldn't run into her until dinner," Zion muttered, his voice edged with reluctance.
He stepped into the vast corridor alongside Kai, the polished marble floors echoing softly underfoot. The house hadn't changed a bit in the week he'd been gone. Not that he'd expected anything different though.
He cast a quick glance around the corridor, its long, narrow expanse serving as the mansion's grand artery to the rest of the house. The walls were draped in rich red wallpaper, adorned with portraits of the Ashcroft ancestors—stern faces staring down from gilded frames, a silent testament to generations of unyielding power.
It had always been this way: the moment anyone crossed the threshold, the sheer magnificence of the most dominant lineage, the royal bloodline of the realm's strongest werewolf pack, hit them like a force of nature. It planted seeds of doubt in the minds of would-be foes, making them reconsider any ill intent toward the family.
No Ashcroft was ever truly harmless. Beneath their calm exteriors, each harbored a fierce inner demon, ready to unleash hell if provoked.
As he and Kai strolled through the corridor toward the foot of the sweeping staircase that ascended to the upper rooms, he scanned the space one final time. His eyes lingered on the imposing door to his father's throne room, positioned to the right of the stairs.
Kai tugged gently at his arm, pulling his attention. "I guess the moon goddess failed to grant your wishes after all," the butler murmured in a hushed tone, a hint of wry amusement in his voice.
He didn't catch Kai's meaning at first, his mind still drifting, until he lifted his gaze to the staircase and spotted his mother poised at the top.
"Nice of you to finally decide to join us again, Zion," Elvira greeted, her voice carrying that familiar depth, laced with authority.
He felt himself shrink under the weight of it, a childhood reflex kicking in. It had always fascinated him, how she could appear so petite and feminine, yet command a room with a tone that rumbled like distant thunder.
Elvira Ashcroft stood tall, observing her son as he ascended the steps, her posture impeccable as ever.
With each rise of the stairs, Zion's eyes traced her timeless elegance, the way she exuded wealth, nobility, and unassailable power, even in repose. It was as if refinement coursed through her veins rather than mere blood. Only the subtle silver threads weaving through her dark hair and the faint shadows beneath her eyes hinted at the decades she'd weathered, marks of a woman nearing sixty. To anyone else, she might pass for a decade younger; but as her son, he knew the truth etched in those quiet signs.
Now face-to-face with her, his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he registered the woman standing beside her.
She was dressed in crisp black suit trousers paired with a flowing white chiffon blouse, its long sleeves adding a touch of soft formality. Her hair was pulled into a precise French plait, framing bright blue eyes that sparkled with poise. Her hands were clasped neatly in front, a polite smile curving her lips—prim and proper, exactly the type his mother favored.
Avery Grantham. His chosen mate.
"Mother," he said, finally pulling his gaze from the younger woman beside her.
He leaned in to press a courteous kiss to Elvira's cheek, then offered Avery only a brief, stiff nod of acknowledgment.
"While I'm extremely angry with you," Elvira replied, tilting her head up to meet his eyes which he now towered over her petite frame, "I do know you need rest before dinner. So I'll allow it... for now."
His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. For his mother to hold off on her usual barrage of criticism until dinner—or worse, after—it signaled something major looming on the horizon.
"What will happen during dinner, Mother?" he asked, his voice steady but probing.
Elvira's brows knit into a sharp scowl. She held her silence as Butler Kai and Atlas maneuvered past them, Zion's luggage balanced carefully in their arms, heading toward the upper floors. Once they were out of earshot, she fixed him with a piercing stare.
"A dinner to welcome you back home," she explained curtly. "Plus, we need to start preparing for your coronation."
"Mother..." Zion trailed off, a note of protest in his tone.
"It's never too early to be ready. Your grandfather drilled that into your father endlessly," she continued, undeterred. "So I've called and invited everyone: your cousins, aunts, uncles. They'll all be here by 7 p.m. at the latest. Your wedding follows soon after the coronation; there's much to arrange. The sooner we gather the family, the better for everyone." Her gaze swept over him then from his face down to his legs and back up, lingering on the rolled sleeves, the undone buttons, the overall air of deliberate disarray. Her jaw clenched visibly, a muscle ticking in her cheek.