Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 216: Cleaning Up Your Mess

Chapter 216: Cleaning Up Your Mess

Riona was officially running away from Wintertooth. It was over. Her colossal screw-up was too big to be ignored.

Even if Thorin was the type to forgive people—no, he wasn’t—she was pretty sure this was beyond saving. Not that it was just about Thorin. She could barely forgive herself for wrecking everything he’d spent years building.

Good job, Riona. Well done on burning bridges—quite literally.

Her guilt weighed on her like a thousand-pound rock, but she kept running anyway, charging out of the forest and onto the main road, because that’s what you do when everything falls apart—run aimlessly, hoping for some kind of magical solution to appear.

And that’s exactly what happened. Well, not sure about the solution part, but something pretty magical did go down. A familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Kid. It’s me. I’m sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" Riona blurted, raising an eyebrow. Then, as if struck by divine inspiration—or just plain irritation—she narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Is this about Florian?"

No response. Well, technically, she didn’t give the Fallen One time to respond. But silence felt like a confession, and Riona was ready to pounce.

Of course, it was about Florian. What else would it be? Someone needed to spill the tea about whatever cosmic nonsense was happening with her brother.

Her hands curled into fists as she yelled into the empty space, "What did you do to him? Why has he... changed?"

That last word came out like a struggle, almost like it physically hurt. Ugh, she hated saying it. Saying it made it real. She wanted to believe her brother was still the same, deep down. It had to be some outside force, something she could blame—and destroy.

Because if it wasn’t, how could she ever get him back?

"You did this to him, didn’t you?" Riona hissed, her voice so sharp and icy it could’ve frosted over the air. If venom could talk, it would sound exactly like this.

If the ancestor had a physical body, Riona would’ve already introduced her fists to his face—repeatedly. But he just had to be all invisible. Except this time, weirdly enough, he wasn’t defending himself.

The Fallen One just stood there, silent, soaking up her anger like he thought he deserved it. Great. Now she was angrier.

"Listen," he finally said, but then stopped. Just like that. As if one word was enough to calm her down.

"What?" Riona barked. "What are you trying to say? Just say it!"

Patience wasn’t her strong suit—never had been—but right now, anger fueled her urgency. She couldn’t stand the waiting, not when answers felt so close.

But no, the Fallen One had to make this harder. Apparently, even though he was fine playing the punching bag, actually admitting guilt was a Herculean task. He swallowed hard, the confession he was about to make was stuck in his throat.

Gulping hard and forcing his thoughts into order, he finally opened his mouth, the words trembling on the edge.

It all started with a royal vampire family, because of course it did.

The eldest child was supposed to be the next queen—big crown, lots of power. The king had even lined up a perfectly suitable husband to support her transition into the life of a ruler.

Meanwhile, the second child, while also betrothed to a lady from a respectable house, faced far less pressure—he was just the spare, after all.

But everything changed when the eldest child fell in love—with a werewolf, no less. And not just any werewolf—a rogue. The scandal rocked the royal family, and in the fallout, she was disowned.

Suddenly, the crown’s weight shifted to the second child’s shoulders.

He’d been all set to call off his engagement, but nope. Now that he was the crown prince, he needed a proper wife—someone with a shiny pedigree who could sit pretty on the throne and fend off the political sharks circling the palace.

Unfortunately, his lover—a commoner—didn’t stand a chance. In a court brimming with enemies eager to exploit or eliminate a weak link, her position would be vulnerable from the start.

For her own sake—and the kingdom’s stability—she could never be queen.

"Wait, wait, wait! Are you talking about my uncle? King Valentin and the late Queen Isolde?" Riona interrupted, holding up a hand to cut him off.

The Fallen One sighed internally. He knew he should’ve skipped to the juicy part. Riona was the definition of impatient, and this whole situation was too urgent for theatrics.

But the temptation of starting with ’in a faraway place’ had been too much to resist.

"Uh, yeah," he admitted guiltily.

Riona let out a long, exaggerated sigh and waved her hand dismissively. "I already know the story. The late queen died of illness, and Lady Maris stayed a mistress out of ’respect’ for her memory. Blah, blah, blah. What’s that got to do with Florian?"

"Well, here’s the thing," the Fallen One began. "The late queen... she might not have loved your uncle, but she had a dream. In her dream, she was a great mother. But, uh, without a husband willing to, you know, do the honors, that dream was kind of impossible."

Riona raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Uh-huh. And I also know she never had kids. She died without an heir, end of story."

"Yeah, about that," the Fallen One said, scratching his neck awkwardly. "That’s... not exactly true. She did have a child. And that child is your brother. Or should I say... your cousin?"

The silence that followed could’ve crushed bones. Riona blinked, then blinked again, processing the untimely joke.

The Fallen One decided to power through, launching into the whole backstory while delicately sidestepping the gory details. After all, he didn’t need to give Riona any more fuel for her already overactive imagination.

"Well," he finished with a sigh. "That’s the truth. Now you know."

"Uh, so my brother—I mean my cous—uh, I mean Florian," Riona stammered, tripping over her words like she was trying to dodge a verbal landmine.

She wet her lips, clearly struggling to adjust to the fact that her brother was now her cousin. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it.

"He’s, what, possessed by some evil demon? The Golgaz thing?"

"Ol’gaz," the Fallen One corrected, because of course accuracy was so important in the middle of this disaster. "And yes. The demon’s in control now, more than ever. Actually, that’s why I’m here. We need to fix this before it’s too late."