The empty bottle clattered into the trash with a hollow thud.
A fitting sound. Hollow, like how I felt most days.
Unless Pandora was with me.
The tablet vibrated on the dresser as I walked back into the bedroom, and I glanced at the screen.
Slater.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and poked the green button. “Yeah?”
“Bram! Hey! Got any plans next weekend?” His cheerful voice came through.
I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Not particularly. Why?”
“Dinner at our manor,” he blurted. “No restaurants, no nobles with sticks up their asses. Just us. Maybe Pandora, too. Saturday. What do you think?”
My throat tightened.
The Havoc manor? Slater’s home. The same one our father was kicked out of but I had never seen.
His world felt so different from mine—my whole life was like I was standing outside a glass wall, watching all the nobles live comfortably on the other side while I suffered. But things had changed.
I no longer felt resentment toward nobles for simply existing.
Slater must’ve sensed my hesitation. “C’mon, Bram. It’ll be so fun. Please?”
I sighed, eyes drifting to the trash can holding the empty bottle of whiskey. It was time for me to stop shutting people out. “Yeah, alright. I’ll come.”
“Yes!Finally. Oh, by the way, the headmaster of Apex Elite Academy reached out to me. Can you believe it? He offered me a spot to join the entrance exams next year.”
I felt my lips tug into a grin. “Glad to hear it. You know, you’d do well on the Demon Council, and they will be looking for a chaos demon rep soon.”
He laughed. “Council life’s more your thing, Bram. I’m just here for the ride, and being a supernatural agent would be so badass.”
My grin faded. “Yeah, maybe. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. My magic has been stronger than ever since bonding with Pandora, and sometimes, it’s difficult to control.”
There was a pause. “Do you need help with control?”
I hesitated, then nodded to myself. “Yeah. I think I do. I haven’t completely lost control, but I think I could use some control techniques or something.”
“I’ll help however I can. I’ve got a few coping mechanisms. Honestly, you’re sober now. Your magic may be strong now because it’s not being muted anymore,” he pointed out before taking a sharp breath. “Listen, Bram, there’s something else. Harry’s been sending Mom these...weird messages. Threatening. He’s been saying some dark shit about Mom and me, and you. I’m fucking worried, and we would’ve reported this to the council, but…”
That twisted something cold in my stomach. “Council’s in shambles right now.”
“Yeah, we think it wouldn’t even help to reach out.”
“Can you forward me the messages?” I asked. “I’ll send them to Hunter. Maybe he can do something.”
“They are mostly voicemails, but I have some texts. I’ll send them to your email now. Good thing Hunter Darkmore’s family now. Might actually be useful,” he tried to joke. His voice dropped. “Just...be careful, Bram. Harry’s dangerous.”
I couldn’t stop the humorless chuckle from escaping me. “Yeah. I know. I grew up with him.”
A flicker of a memory surfaced—foggy and distant. My father’s voice, ranting about nobility, his grip bruising my arm as he dragged me somewhere dark. A flash of someone else crying out in pain. A spray of blood across my face.
“I’m so sorry for that,” Slater croaked. “Just watch your back, okay?”
“I will.” My chest tightened. “Send me those messages. I’ll talk to Hunter.”
