Crown and Shackles: The Princes Mate (Story Updated)

The Brother in the Dark

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Ally POV

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Cold. I was so cold. Not just the chill on my skin - it was deeper, inside my bones, where my heart and soul should be. But there was nothing left to feel. The burns didn't hurt anymore. They barely touched me. My body had learned to shut down, to protect what little remained of me. I was empty - a hollow shell carved out by pain and cruelty.

Part of me wanted to die. To finally surrender to the darkness that had crept into every corner of my mind. But the other part - my wolf - the wild, fierce creature who once roared inside me - was fading. She was slipping away, drained by endless torment and the poison they forced on me. The fire that once burned bright inside her was now just a dying ember. Her strength was weakening, her growl barely a whisper. I felt her slipping from me, and it terrified me more than the pain ever could.

Still, that fading wolf longed to find her mate. To be whole again in Logan's arms. I missed him so badly it twisted inside me, raw and aching. That hope, fragile and flickering, was the only thread keeping me from falling apart completely.

The torture had changed. They stopped burning me. The wounds were healing - slowly, painfully - and some scars would never fade. But that was something I could live with. Now they fed me wolf's bane, checking if I would spit it out after they left. It burned worse than silver, slicing through my mouth, making every breath a fresh kind of agony.

I was on the verge of tears again, my throat tight, my eyes stinging, when a scream shattered the silence. My heart slammed against my ribs as I snapped upright, eyes fixed on the doorway. Crashes and bangs echoed through the room. What was happening? Was Logan here?

Hope flared inside me - fragile, desperate, real. The door creaked open slowly, and through the haze of pain and fear, I saw...

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Sam POV

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We found her.

Weeks of dead ends, cryptic warnings, and false trails had nearly crushed our hope. Every lead dissolved into blood or silence-until one stormy night, a hawk appeared over our camp. It dropped a small, rain-soaked piece of paper before vanishing into the dark sky.

No name. No sender. Just four urgent words, written in shaky handwriting:

Ashridge Valley. Old mansion. Werewolf princess. Hurry.

No seal. No clue who sent it. But something about it felt real. Pressing.

Logan didn't hesitate. He read it once, then vanished into the night without a word-no questions, no backup, no plan.

"LOGAN!" I shouted, chasing after him. "You don't even know who sent this-"

"I don't care! If there's a chance it's true, I'm going!"

"This could be a trap!"

"Then I'll walk right into it-for her!"

We followed, unsure what awaited us. Ashridge Valley was a name spoken only in hushed legends and warnings. Dead vampires littered the forest path-twisted, broken, eyes empty. Others lurked in shadows, snarling with pain and confusion. Nothing like this had ever been left behind without a trace.

Ashridge was cursed ground. No wolf crossed that line unless ready to die. But Logan didn't flinch. Neither did I.

When the mansion finally appeared-tall, crumbling, half-swallowed by the forest-we knew this was it.

But something was wrong. Too quiet. No patrols. No guards. No movement at all.

It didn't feel like a trap. It felt like a place already consumed by something far worse.

Just before we reached the mansion, a shadow flickered in my peripheral-a figure cloaked in shifting darkness. Silent. Still. No one else saw them.

Without a sound, the figure moved ahead, guiding us through the twisted forest to a hidden entrance.

Then, just as suddenly, they vanished-dissolving into mist like they'd never been there at all.

That presence wasn't natural. It was a mage.

Logan stormed the front doors. They cracked open with a loud snap, echoing through empty halls. Inside was chaos-old but brutal battles, claw marks scoring the walls, splinters and blood trails, air thick with scorched dust and old pain.

Then movement.

Logan took off down a hallway, chasing a scent the rest of us couldn't yet catch. We followed blindly, turning corners until-

He stopped, breath caught.

In a shattered room flooded with pale sunlight lay Ally, bruised and barely conscious, cradled in someone's arms.

Logan dropped to his knees, pulling her close as if holding her together could stop the world from breaking.

"I'm here," he whispered, voice shaking. "I've got you."

She stirred, eyelids fluttering. "...Logan?"

"You're safe now. I'm not letting go."

He kissed her forehead again and again, grounding himself in her fragile heartbeat.

That's when I looked up at the one holding her.

A young man-eighteen, calm, watchful. Too familiar.

My blood ran cold.

He stepped into the light. He looked exactly like me.

Younger. My brother.

"Daniel?" I breathed, heart pounding.

He smiled faintly. "Hey, big brother."

"You sent the message," I said, voice catching.

He nodded.

"How are you here?"

He glanced away briefly, then back, a shadow of something unspoken in his eyes.

"Let's just say I didn't come alone."