Rise of the Underdogs: VALIK

XXI

It’s official.

Shit hit the fan and splattered straight across the spotless walls of the Vampire Lords’ stronghold. It all kicked off just a few months after my brother became a dad. His son came into the world healthy and loud — a solid pair of lungs, already proving he belonged to a family of fighters. They named him Rio Mariano. That was all Selene. She wanted something that meant movement and legacy.

“Rio” came from Logan’s mom’s side. Her family’s roots run deep in Mexico, and the Rio Grande was more than just geography to them. That river cuts through land like it refuses to be ignored. It pushes forward, carves space, bridges cultures, and carries generations with it — stubborn, steady, and unapologetic. Naming the kid after it? That meant something. It was a nod to heritage and a promise that he wouldn’t get lost in anyone else’s version of history.

Then there’s “Mariano.” Came from his Abuela — a name held by men who weren’t flashy but didn’t fold under pressure. The kind of people who worked with their hands, didn’t ask for recognition, and showed up when things got hard. That name felt solid. Like stone underfoot.

Put together, Rio Mariano wasn’t just a name. It was a message. This kid was going to move through life with purpose — not rushed, not dragged, just forward.

The plan was to head to the Valencia mansion that day. Then Maria got sick. Heaven and Ember, who serve as lead Medics for the Howler pack, were the ones who showed up. They diagnosed her with a rare reaction triggered by a new and very unexpected pregnancy. Losing control of her shifting turned out to be hormone-related—thanks to wolf biology, it was their version of brutal morning sickness. Apparently, superpowered nausea comes with teeth and fur.

Logan and Lene hit maximum tolerance levels with Mom (which, let’s be real, is what Luna Clara gets called now. Not that I forgot my mother – I didn’t. I just allowed myself to move on.) and Luna Lenora, Selene’s ever-dramatic mother. These two women weren’t just vocal—they were full-volume parenting textbooks with zero mute button. If there’s a way to turn advice into psychological warfare, they mastered it.

Logan had everything handled in his own way, and his immediate team never needed prompting. They moved like a living extension of his instincts, stepping in silently and filling gaps without waiting for orders. Leading the pack? That part looked effortless. Negotiating with Vampires, coordinating cross-clan diplomacy, managing endless politics? It all felt like second nature to him—like it was stitched into his DNA.

Unfortunately, Mom and Lenora were proving impossible to ignore. Their constant feedback, unsolicited advice, and emotional drive kept pressing against him from every direction. It was all well-meaning, but relentless. I watched the toll it took, slowly etching into his expression, even when he pretended otherwise. None of us were getting through this chapter clean. The emotional bruises would take time to fade, and coffee might as well be our new blood type.

Don’t get me wrong—I loved my nephew more than I ever thought possible. That tiny creature brought light with him, something sharp and pure. But the weight it placed on Logan? That I couldn’t stand. Not because of the boy himself, but because of the expectations that seemed to explode around my brother the moment Rio was born. People assumed Logan could handle anything—and maybe he could—but that didn’t mean he should have to.

I moved through the cave that connected Vampire and Werewolf territories, keeping close to the jagged edges like they might speak to me. The mouth of it curved in a way that resembled a dragon’s skull, with stalactites hanging like fangs and the upward stretch of stalagmites forming the lower bite. Together, they created an illusion so vivid you’d think it might snap shut. Reinstalling the “teeth” was part of my routine. The enchantments were old, layered over the natural stone. Each one triggered against unwanted visitors—illusions designed to confuse, blind, and disorient those who weren’t supposed to cross. We didn’t need another sneak attack. Not here. Not now.

Once I crossed, I made sure to get ahead of Logan and Selene, reaching the mansion steps before their shadows hit the marble. I briefed the guards with quiet clarity, running down every detail of what needed to be done. There was no room for error, not with tension curled into every corner of the day.

Then it happened. Heaven’s scent laced the air—soft, familiar, and warm in a way that made my chest ache. That single trace of her presence made me shiver. Not from fear or nerves, but from the kind of joy that runs so deep it unsettles you. She was close, and she was safe, and knowing she hadn’t vanished into chaos made my entire world feel steady again. Her companion, that tiny force of nature she kept beside her also known as Ember Forrest, only added to the feeling. Between the two of them, it felt like someone had poured light into the halls just for me.

Finding Hunter near the staircase as he carried Gamma Maria up toward her room, I matched pace and leaned in just enough to speak without drawing attention. I explained my situation without fanfare, straight and clean, because there was no point wasting time. At first, Hunter’s reaction was mild—concern mixed with curiosity, touched by that humor he rarely turned off.

But when I mentioned his niece and what she’d done to me, his stance changed instantly. The edge in his voice dropped into something colder, something protective. That’s when I knew the kid gloves were off, and we were past diplomacy.

True to his word, Hunter didn’t hesitate. Micah and Dorcas were brought in fast. He made sure they didn’t just hear the truth—they understood it. Every angle. Every risk. Every consequence. This wasn’t about tactics anymore. It was about legacy, blood, and the kind of decisions that ripple for years after they're made.

Andrast’s claims and pleas fell apart the moment the truth finally surfaced. Her parents came down hard, not with quiet disappointment but with full-volume judgment. They did not leave room for misunderstanding, making sure she felt the sting of every word thrown her way. It was not just a lecture — it was a formal announcement of disgrace.

Logan did not hold back either. He looked her in the eye and cut straight through the lies, shredding the false accusations made against me by her group of self-important, weak-minded friends. He was not there to debate or sugarcoat. He delivered truth with precision, letting her know just how far she had crossed the line.

But none of that compared to what followed.

Right as my knees hit the floor, the weight of it all nearly took my breath. I was not groveling. I was anchoring myself in a moment that felt like the collapse of everything I had fought to protect. Then Micah stepped in — not with judgment, but with clarity. He made it known with full intent that I was not the one who should be lowered to the ground. His words struck clean, shifting the room in a way that silenced every whisper before they could even start.

After the meeting, wherein the entirety of the Howlers backed me (not something I was likely going to forget any time soon), Heaven and I went to the art gallery owned by one of the Vampires. The place had that quiet, curated feel — high ceilings, soft lighting, and shadows that stretched across polished floors like they had something to say. Walking into the building, I was caught off guard by a massive photo of Selene standing in the forest. She looked young, maybe fourteen, and the artist had managed to freeze her in a moment that felt sacred. The way the light sliced through the canopy around her and caught the edge of her gaze was eerie and beautiful, like the forest itself was listening to her.

She squealed beside me when she spotted the image. “Oh my Goddess. You actually used that one?”

Her voice had that mix of shock and nostalgia that made me glance over. It took me a second, but then I saw what she was pointing at — or rather, I saw what made her burst into laughter next. I choked back my own laugh when my eyes landed on a wall-mounted photograph of two small wolves tangled up in medical supplies. Bandages were sprawled across the floor, one of them half-bitten, and some jars had clearly been knocked over in the chaos. One of the wolves had a tongue lolling out, mid-leap, and the other was deep in concentration, staring at a stethoscope like it might talk back.

“That’s, uh, that’s an interesting picture of you and Ember,” I said, trying not to laugh too loudly.

“Don’t get me started,” Heaven giggled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she nudged me with her elbow. “Viktor wanted to show the playful side of Werewolves, so Ember and I volunteered to be subjects for his art.”

I nodded slowly as I kept my eyes on the photo. “Well, he definitely captured something,” I murmured. “Chaos with good intentions.”

The grin on her face widened as she stepped closer to the frame, eyes scanning every messy detail with fondness. “Honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to look that wild. Ember thought the bandages were chew toys, and Viktor just kept clicking and laughing like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.”

I smirked and leaned in beside her, “He was right. That’s the kind of mess people remember.”