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“If she is,” I say gruffly, “then I’m about to find out.”
26
The Fight
Noah
My walk from Arabica is quiet. I don’t encounter a single alpha, omega, or beta on the street, but I do see some faces peeking out at me from the dark shop windows and shuttered houses. I ignore them, concentrating on Cypress House’s heavy wrought iron gate looming ahead of me.
While Sage House sits safely on top of a hill, Cypress House is smack dab in the middle of town. The towering gates open straight onto Dogwood Street, and the house and its expansive grounds are surrounded by a tall brick wall.
I breathe out a low laugh as I take it in now. It can’t be more than seven feet tall, but when we were young, it seemed impossibly high. Orion, Wyatt, and I used to climb to the top of it and dare each other to jump off. Orion ended up breaking his arm once… I thought his father was going to kill him.
I walk up to the gate to find it propped open slightly. That’s strange—at the very least, it’s always latched shut, if not padlocked. It creaks loudly on its hinges as I push it open, and my heart sinks at what I find on the other side.
If I thought Arabica was changed, it’s nothing compared to Cypress House.
The overgrown grass moves gently in the breeze, and the bushes, tall and unwieldy, hang limply along the wall and front of the house.
That’s not what’s strange, though—everything in Goldenrod is overgrown now. I don’t know when the last time was that I heard the hum of a lawnmower or the sharp clip of hedge trimmers.
No, what’s strange is that the house appears completely abandoned.
Lifeless and still.
A few collapsed tents are scattered over the long grass, wavering precariously in the wind next to burnt circles of earth and ashen logs.
Is it empty?
No, my nostrils flare as I catch a few faint smells—one familiar and a couple unfamiliar.
There are people in the house right now.
My senses are sharp as my feet press into the weed infested gravel path that leads to the house’s front portico and a tall wooden front door, also carelessly propped open.
Silently, I push the door open the rest of the way and stare into the large entryway. Cypress House is identical to Sage House in most ways—same layout, similar stately decor—so it feels like home. Not to mention, I’ve been in and out of this house my entire life, playing with Orion as a child or visiting with my father as an adult.
But I hardly recognize the place now—it’s dirty and bare. My eyes dart over the dusty table in the center of the entryway, a crystal vase in the middle. It’s empty now, but every other time I’ve been here, that same vase was overflowing with fresh flowers.
Elizabeth’s mother, Eleanor, was much like my mother—obsessed with plants, prestige, and the Order. They were strange companions—best friends who loved each other almost as much as they hated each other; they were in constant competition.
But Eleanor’s dead now, and Mother is… a witch. I can’t help but scoff out loud at the thought as I reach out and touch the sharp edge of the vase.
How the mighty have fallen…
“Who are you?”
A sharp, feminine voice breaks me from my reverie. I look up to see an omega with straight, blonde hair walking out the kitchen door. She’s holding a chubby, tow-headed baby on her hip and watching me suspiciously. Although I don’t recognize her, I know that Rill’s alphas brought a couple omegas with them—is she one of them?
“Who are you?” I counter, stepping toward her.
She shakes her head slowly, tightening her grip on the baby. “You first.”
“I’m Noah Sage.”
She raises her brows as if my name means nothing to her.
“I’m the Administrator of Order,” I continue, expecting that to ring some bells.
