The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 – SNAKES IN SILK

Nevara

I stared at the sss with a numb kind of satisfaction.

“Received and filed. Official countdown begins. -Rosa.”

It was done.

Tobias had signed the signature page–just like I knew he would. No hesitation. No questions. Just a flick of his pen and a muttered, “Leave these in the tray when you’re done.”

He hadn’t even glanced at what he was signing. Years of habit had trained him to trust me. And for once,

I’d used that trust for something that served me.

The divorce was officially in motion.

The papers had been filed.

My name–my freedom–was inching closer with every passing hour.

And yet… I didn’t feel lighter.

Not yet.

Not with her still here. Still lurking in the hallways in silk robes and soft perfume, still sipping coffee in my

kitchen like she hadn’t shattered my life piece by piece. She walked these halls like a queen, even though

she’d arrived as a guest. A widow. A parasite.

But this morning, something was different.

She knocked.

That alone nearly gave me a stroke.

I opened the door to my suite and found her standing there, wrapped in a flowy gray cardigan that looked borrowed from Nickolai’s closet, holding a tray with two steaming mugs.

“Peace offering,” she said sweetly, lifting the tray. “Chamomile. I made it the way you like.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why?”

She gave a soft laugh. “Do I need a reason? We live under the same roof now. And… I know it’s been tense between us. I was hoping we could start fresh.”

I said nothing.

“I know I’m not your favorite person,” she went on, “but I miss having someone to talk to. And I think… maybe you do too.”

The cynical part of me screamed don’t trust it.

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But another part–the tired part–just wanted one morning where I wasn’t fighting with her or anyone else.

I took the mug.

“Let’s sit outside,” she said, gesturing toward the garden path. “The sun’s nice this morning.”

We walked in silence. The air was crisp, the sky a pale, clear blue. The garden was empty except for a few birds scratching through the beds. She led us to the stone bench near the low rock border, just outside the

patch of fading mums.

She sipped her tea and sighed like we were two old friends.

“It’s been hard,” she said. “For both of us.”

“Don’t pretend we’re the same.”

She looked down at her cup. “You’re right. We’re not.”

For a minute, I thought that was it. But then she turned, reached out, and gently touched my arm.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said softly. “For letting me and Noah stay here. I know it’s complicated, but… this has helped me more than you know.”

It almost sounded genuine.

Almost.

And just when I started to let my guard drop-

She gasped, stumbled back, and fell.

Straight into the rocky border behind the bench.

“Vanessa-!” I dropped my cup and reached toward her on instinct.

But she cried out sharply, clutching her hand.

Blood streaked her palm–thin, red lines slicing across the skin like she’d dragged it across the jagged

stone.

She looked up at me, wide–eyed. Hurt. Betrayed.

“You pushed me,” she breathed.

My stomach dropped. “What?! No, I didn’t–I didn’t touch you!”

“You shoved me!” she shouted louder this time, her voice trembling. “I was trying to be nice and you-!”

Footsteps pounded behind me. Heavy. Fast.

Tobias.

Of course,

He rounded the garden path and stopped cold at the sight: Vanessa on the ground, bleeding, clutching her

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wrist–me standing over her, stunned and speechless.

“What the hell happened? he barked.

“She pushed me,” Vanessa sobbed. “I was just trying to talk to her–she got angry and shoved me.”

“I didn’t touch her!” I said immediately. “She faked it–she threw herself back, Tobias. I swear-”

He held up a hand. “Stop.”

“But-”

“Just. Stop.”

His voice was cold. Controlled. The voice of a man trying not to explode.

“She’s bleeding,” he said flatly. “And you’re standing over her.”

“Because I was trying to help her! She slipped–on purpose-”

“Go inside, Nevara.”

“Tobias-”

“Now.”

The finality in his voice landed like a slap.

Vanessa whimpered softly, and he turned his attention to her, kneeling beside her to inspect the cut. She

leaned into his touch like a wounded lamb.

I backed away slowly, heart pounding. My tea forgotten, the sun suddenly too hot against my skin.

I turned and walked back toward the house, her words echoing in my ears.

You pushed me.

You pushed me.

This was a whole new low, even for her.

I didn’t see Tobias again for the rest of the morning.

But I saw her.

Vanessa limped around the pack house like she’d shattered every bone in her body instead of earning a superficial scratch. She wore a bandage on her palm and kept her wrist in a makeshift sling–even though

no one had said anything about a sprain.

It was all for show.

And he ate it up.

By lunch, Tobias was doting on her like she’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He poured her tea. Pulled out her chair. Sat beside her on the couch and listened with quiet focus as she “bravely” described

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the pain of being pushed down by someone she was “trying so hard to get along with.”

She caught my eyes once from across the room and gave me the smallest, most smug little smile.

I left before I did something stupid.

But it didn’t stop there.

+25 Point

Noah came tearing through the hallway that afternoon, shrieking with laughter as Tobias chased him. The were dressed in makeshift pirate hats, brandishing wooden spoons as swords. When Tobias caught him, he lifted him high into the air, then cradled him close, letting the boy’s laughter echo down the corridor.

And in that moment, they didn’t look like borrowed family.

They looked like his.

Like father and son.

And I? I was just the ghost in the house. The fading outline of a woman who’d been erased without

ceremony or grief.

Later, I passed by the kitchen and heard Vanessa and Tobias talking in soft voices over mugs of cider.

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