My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her Chapter 466 REBIRTH

LUCIAN’S POV

For an evil lair, Catherine certainly selected a prime location.

On the surface, the private island was a pristine paradise, untouched by avarice—featuring white sandy beaches, an endless azure ocean, and luxurious villas dotted along the coast, akin to a billionaire's wildest dreams.

Beneath the ground, however, the air was thick with the stench of blood and decay.

I followed Catherine through the dimly lit underground passage, the silence between us unbroken. The gleaming white floors mirrored the stark, cold beams of light from the ceiling fixtures, while the low hum of distant machinery vibrated through the walls.

This facility was far more extensive than I had anticipated.

Silverpine had always served as a fortified base and operational hub, but this place… this was its very core.

Human scientists, engrossed in their work with tablets and specimen containers, hurried between secured doorways. Simultaneously, witches moved through the corridors with an air of serene confidence, as if they were utterly beyond reproach.

A seamless integration of magic and science was evident everywhere.

Ethereal symbols flickered faintly beneath translucent floor panels, and advanced medical equipment stood sentinel beside ancient artifacts. These relics emanated an energy potent enough to agitate the wolf lurking beneath my skin.

The pill Catherine had administered days prior still felt like a venomous thread woven through my bloodstream.

At times, particularly when my thoughts faltered or when a subtle pressure coiled around the edges of my consciousness like invisible fingers testing their hold, I could sense its presence.

Catherine’s preferred strategy was not overt control, but rather a subtle manipulation.

It wasn't about domination, but about fostering dependency and conditioning.

A delicately calibrated application of pressure until all resistance inevitably waned.

My survival depended on adaptation—on yielding just enough to avoid becoming another forgotten specimen in her laboratories.

Catherine walked beside me with a composed demeanor, the soft click of her heels a rhythmic counterpoint on the polished floor.

“You should consider yourself privileged,” she remarked casually. “Only a select few are granted access to the central chamber.”

“The honor is overwhelming,” I replied dryly.

A slight curve graced her lips. “You still possess a sarcastic streak. That’s a promising sign.”

I offered no further response.

The corridor ahead bent, leading into another secured sector where workrooms were encased in glass walls. Some contained surgical tables, while others featured containment circles etched directly into the floor.

In one room, only the skeletal remains of wolves were suspended.

Another housed what appeared, disturbingly, to be artificial organs floating in a shimmering, silver-blue fluid.

With every step deeper into the complex, a palpable sense of unease intensified.

We proceeded further down the corridor, the activity behind us gradually receding. Then, as we rounded the next bend, I almost halted in my tracks.

A young woman stood near a side terminal, her auburn curls drawn back from her face. Glowing symbols slowly revolved on the screen before her.

A witch.

And a powerful one at that.

I recognized this instantly, not through any visible display of magic, but because the very air around her felt… peculiar.

Charged. Alive.

Catherine’s pace faltered slightly as she noticed her.

“Evelyn.”

The woman looked up, her attention immediately drawn.

The instant her gaze locked with mine, something within me gave a violent jolt, so sharp I nearly cried out.

Rhegan stirred with an uncharacteristic ferocity beneath my skin, without any prompting.

What the hell—

The sensation dissipated as swiftly as it had emerged, leaving only a peculiar constricting feeling in my chest that made absolutely no sense.

Evelyn blinked once, her eyes lingering on me with an evident look of bewilderment before shifting towards Catherine.

“Who is this?”

“An associate,” Catherine responded smoothly.

Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “Since when do you escort ‘associates’ down here?”

Catherine continued walking without breaking stride. “Since I decided I required one.”

I followed her, almost instinctively, though my attention momentarily lingered.

Evelyn’s gaze remained fixed on me.

Not with mere curiosity or suspicion, but rather as if she were trying to recall a familiar object she couldn't quite place.

A prickle of unease began to spread beneath my ribs.

I forced my focus forward immediately.

Whatever this peculiar feeling was, it carried a distinct danger.

“You’ve been avoiding me all week,” Evelyn stated, falling into step beside Catherine. “Every time I inquire about the containment breach, you divert the conversation.”

“There are more pressing matters at hand currently.”

“That doesn’t constitute an answer.”

“No,” Catherine conceded calmly. “It does not.”

Evelyn let out a sharp exhale through her nose. “You’re employing that tactic again.”

Catherine finally turned her head towards her. “Paranoia is unbecoming of you, my dear.”

The younger witch crossed her arms. “And evasiveness suits you far too well.”

Catherine offered a faint smile at this, though it failed to reach her eyes.

“Curiosity is a healthy trait, Evelyn. Obsession, however, is not.”

“I learned from the best, after all.”

For a fleeting moment, silence hung heavy between them.

Then, Catherine reached out and, with an almost unnerving tenderness, tucked a stray strand of hair away from Evelyn’s face.

“You are overexerting yourself again,” she murmured softly.

Evelyn seemed more irritated by the gesture than soothed by it.

“You offer that same sentiment every time I begin asking questions.”

“Perhaps because exhaustion tends to heighten your imagination.”

I tightened my jaw.

Manipulation.

Catherine had a way of maneuvering conversations, much like a boa constrictor coiling around its prey—gradually, so that by the time the restriction becomes unbearable, respiration has already ceased to be possible.

Evelyn’s eyes met mine once more, a fleeting glance that held an unnerving familiarity.

Then, unexpectedly, that peculiar sensation resurfaced beneath my ribs, a subtle tremor of awareness coursing through my very being.

A minute shift in Evelyn’s expression suggested she, too, perceived something anomalous.

No.

It simply couldn’t be.

I immediately suppressed the burgeoning thought.

Catherine, either oblivious or feigning ignorance, registered neither of our subtle reactions.

“You ought to get some rest,” she stated with an air of practiced calm. “Perhaps a few hours of sleep will bring clarity to your thoughts.”

A fleeting expression crossed Evelyn’s face before she swiftly composed herself, offering a nod. “Yes, Mother.”

The word struck me like a physical blow.

Mother??

Since when did Catherine bear children? My mind reeled from the unexpected revelation.

I managed to school my shock into a practiced mask, turning away from Evelyn as Catherine continued her assured stride deeper into the complex. I followed in her wake, leaving Evelyn standing alone by the terminal.

I did not look back.

Yet, I felt her gaze upon me, an invisible tether binding me to her presence.

Our descent concluded, bringing us to the lowest level of the subterranean facility, where the core chamber lay hidden.

As Catherine drew near, colossal reinforced doors began to part with a low groan, disclosing a chamber of such immense proportions that it evoked the grandeur of an underground cathedral.

Intricate machinery lined the perimeter walls, interspersed with luminous ritualistic circles etched directly into the obsidian flooring.

The fusion of advanced technology and arcane sorcery was so complete; it was impossible to discern where one discipline ended and the other began.

“Is it not magnificent?” Catherine inquired, her voice tinged with evident pride.

It possessed a certain beauty, yes—the chilling allure of a black mamba poised to strike.

Dominating the chamber’s center was a sprawling operating table.

Upon it lay a man, ensnared by restraints.

He was old. Beyond saving.

Even from this distance, the stench of the terminal illness consuming him from within—long before Catherine’s insidious influence—was palpable.

His labored breaths were punctuated by wet rattles, while an IV drip fed a bioluminescent fluid into his veins.

Despite the ravages of decay upon his physical form, a flicker of hope remained ignited in his eyes.

“Alpha Bernard offered his consent willingly,” Catherine explained as we drew closer. “He was in the late stages of degeneration; his wolf was weakening in tandem with his failing body.”

The Alpha’s gaze, clouded with age and illness, shifted weakly towards Catherine.

“You gave your word,” he rasped, the effort causing him visible pain. “My pack… they depend on me.”

“And they shall have you restored,” Catherine murmured soothingly.

A blatant falsehood.

Yet, his desperation was so profound that she could have pledged to encase the moon in a ring for him, and he would have readily believed it.

Figures clad in witching attire moved with purpose throughout the chamber, preparing sacred symbols, while technicians meticulously calibrated the complex apparatus surrounding the table.

Catherine directed a significant glance my way. “Observe closely, Lucian. A spectacle of rebirth is rarely witnessed by mortals.”

The ritual commenced moments later.

First, shimmering silver restraints flared to life, immobilizing the Alpha completely, as luminous sigils cascautiously spread outward beneath him, resembling glowing veins against the dark stone.

The man emitted a weak cry, as if his depleted strength could no longer sustain true agony.

Then, the symbols beneath the table erupted with light.

My stomach churned as fragments of the arcane arts became recognizable.

Soul-binding… Extraction… Containment…

And something ancient, lurking beneath it all.

Something twisted beyond any semblance of its original form.

Whatever this procedure was, it bore no resemblance to rebirth whatsoever.

The rhythmic chanting grew in intensity.

Then, his wolf manifested.

Shards of spectral silver light violently erupted from his chest in fractured bursts, while blood began to stream from his mouth.

The machinery whirred to life. Mechanical arms descended from above, encircling the ethereal wolf, as the witches skillfully redirected energy through containment sigils that pulsed with increasing brilliance.

“Magnificent,” Catherine breathed, her voice hushed with reverence.

A chilling wave of horror washed over me, permeating every fiber of my being.

The wolf struggled fiercely at first, thrashing against the ethereal restraints while the Alpha convulsed uncontrollably on the table beneath it.

“You promised—” he choked out, his voice strained with desperation.

Catherine didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Proceed,” she commanded.

The chamber began to tremble violently as raw magic clashed against sophisticated machinery.

Abruptly, the spectral wolf solidified.

It was massive. Clad in dark fur. Far larger than any natural-born wolf.

It thudded heavily onto the floor beyond the confines of the ritual circle, its breath coming in ragged gasps, while the Alpha’s heart monitor behind it flatlined.

Deceased.

Yet, the wolf remained sentient, very much alive.

A palpable wave of excitement swept through the chamber instantaneously.

Technicians rushed to document the myriad readings, while the witches gazed upon the creature with undisguised awe.

Catherine’s expression was one of pure triumph.

“The wolf endures separation,” she declared softly. “Precisely as the predictions indicated.”

Slowly, the wolf lifted its colossal head.

Bewildered. Distressed. Utterly alone.

A low, mournful sound emanated from its throat.

And within me, something irrevocably fractured.

Standing there, witnessing a dead Alpha’s wolf grieving beside his lifeless form while Catherine reveled in her supposed success, a horrifying clarity descended upon me.

There was no longer any possibility of rectifying this from within.

No remaining justifications.

No acceptable compromises could be found.

Every step I had taken alongside Catherine had irrevocably stained my hands, a pollution I could never hope to cleanse.My inner resolve was that surviving this hellscape would eventually grant me the power to dismantle it. My self-assurance was that my persistence was driven by the need for truths. Because Zara was necessary. However, if I persisted in aiding Catherine, if I continued to stand by her side, I would inevitably transform into a monster identical to her. And in the end, nothing within me would remain salvageable.