Witches Chronicles

Chapter 4:

Jace's pov

The engine growled beneath me, the dark road stretching out endlessly before me as I sped toward the mansion. My hands gripped the wheel tighter, my knuckles white with tension. Emmet’s words echoed in my head—mocking, taunting, like they always did—but this time, there was something darker in his tone.

Zaid. The thought of him sent a knot twisting in my chest. He’d been the last of our bloodline—our great-great-great nephew. But we called him Grandad, even though we looked decades younger than him. He was older now, his body frail, his life stretched thin after centuries of being tied to our cursed existence. Zaid was the only family we had left, the only tether to a world we had all but outlived.

And Emmet… Emmet wouldn’t have hurt him. He couldn’t have.

The mansion loomed ahead, its cold stone walls lit by the soft glow of the moon. Every instinct screamed at me to get there faster, to prove to myself that Zaid was fine. Emmet couldn’t have done anything. But the pit in my stomach told me otherwise.

I parked the car haphazardly in the driveway, leaving the engine running as I threw open the door and sprinted inside. The familiar smell of the old place—of dust, wood, and age—washed over me, but this time, it did nothing to calm me. My boots echoed in the empty hallway as I ran through the mansion, calling his name.

“Zaid!” I shouted, my voice bouncing off the cold stone walls. Silence answered me.

I moved faster, my chest tightening as dread clawed at me. Room after room, each one empty, only deepened the feeling that something was terribly wrong. I skidded to a stop at the foot of the grand staircase, my eyes snapping to the back of the house where the garden stretched out beyond the glass doors.

And that’s when I saw it.

The ladder, leaning against the side of the house. And next to it...

“Zaid,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

His body lay crumpled beside the ladder, old and frail against the dewy grass. His once-strong hands were limp at his sides, and his head lolled to one side. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, my world narrowing to the stillness of his form.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

I bolted toward him, dropping to my knees beside him. His skin was pale, far too pale, even for someone as old as he was. He looked so fragile, like he could crumble into dust at any moment. I pressed my fingers to his neck, desperately searching for a pulse, a sign of life.

And then, faintly, I found it. It was weak, barely there, but it was enough.

Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. Zaid hadn’t just fallen off the ladder. This wasn’t an accident.

“Poor Grandad,” a voice said behind me, smooth and mocking. That voice. The one I’d been dreading.

I stood slowly, my back still to him as I tried to contain the rising fury inside me. Emmet stepped out of the shadows, his hands tucked casually into his leather jacket, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“You,” I growled, spinning to face him. “What did you do?”

Emmet raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, shrugging. “What makes you think I did anything? The old man must’ve slipped. His balance isn’t what it used to be, after all.”

I clenched my fists, the urge to tear that smug look off his face building inside me. “Don’t give me that. You’re here for a reason, and it sure as hell isn’t to check on Zaid. What did you do, Emmet?”

He stepped closer, his smirk widening. “Me? I didn’t lay a hand on him. But it’s funny, you know—how long did you think you could keep this secret from me? Witches talk.”

My blood ran cold. I stiffened, meeting his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, brother. You know exactly who I’m talking about. That little witch you’ve been watching over.” His eyes glinted with amusement, like he was enjoying every second of this. “Willow.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. How did he know about Willow? How long had he been watching her?

“Leave her out of this,” I said, my voice tight with barely controlled rage. “She has nothing to do with you.”

Emmet tilted his head, his grin sharp and predatory. “Oh, but she has everything to do with me. With us. You know what she can do, don’t you? She’s powerful, Jace. More powerful than you realize. She can open the vault.”

I froze, the weight of his words settling in like a lead blanket over my shoulders. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Am I?” Emmet’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She could open it, Jace. She could set her free.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to keep my composure. “Set who free?”

His grin widened, his voice cold and certain. “Lily.”

Her name hit me like a hammer, the air rushing from my lungs as the memories flooded back. Lily. The woman I had loved. The woman we both had loved. The woman who had been lost to us so long ago.

“Lily is dead,” I growled through gritted teeth, trying to shove the memories back where they belonged. “She’s gone, Emmet. She’s been gone for centuries.”

Emmet’s smile faltered for just a second, his eyes hardening. “She’s waiting, Jace. You know it. She’s not truly gone. Willow can bring her back—she can open the vault and set her free. And when she does... we’ll have Lily back. Our Lily.”

“No.” The word came out harsher than I intended, and I took a step forward, shoving Emmet hard in the chest. “You’re wrong. This ends now. Get out of here. You’ve done enough.”

Emmet stumbled back, his expression darkening, but he recovered quickly, brushing off his jacket as if nothing had happened. “You’re making a mistake, brother. You can’t protect her forever.”

“Leave her out of this,” I snarled, my voice low and deadly.

Emmet’s smile returned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “We’ll see about that.”

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, heart racing, and the weight of his words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

I spent the next few hours caring for Zaid, doing what I could to help him. His pulse remained weak, his breathing shallow, but he was still with me. I wrapped him in blankets and laid him in the den, keeping the fire stoked as the night stretched on. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to clean up after Emmet’s mess, but this time, it felt different. More final.

Once Zaid was settled, I made my way to the small bar we kept near the fireplace, pouring myself a stiff drink. The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but it did little to numb the ache inside me.

The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, and I stared into the flames, my mind wandering back to Willow.

I’d watched over her for months now, keeping my distance, protecting her from the threats she didn’t even know existed. At first, it had been about duty—about making sure she didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Emmet’s hands.

But somewhere along the way, it had become something more.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her strength, her kindness, her beauty. She didn’t even realize how much power she held—how special she was. And now, with Emmet in the picture, she was in more danger than ever.

I’d sworn to protect her, to keep her safe. But the more time I spent watching her, the harder it became to keep my distance. I’d started falling for her. And now, with Emmet closing in, I wasn’t sure how long I could protect her from the truth.

I stared into the flames, my mind heavy with the weight of everything that was coming. Emmet wasn’t going to stop. He never did. And now, with Willow in his sights, things were only going to get worse.

I took another sip of whiskey, the firelight flickering in my eyes as I made a silent promise to myself.

I would protect her. No matter what it took.

Even if it meant lying to her.