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CHAPTER 36
Seraphina
She vanished.Dorothea Cicero and Alpha Finch are nowhere to be found. Disbelief sends a chill through me as I read recent articles. The headlines are haunting.
“Mysterious Fire Engulfs Remote Cabin: A Race Against Time.”
“Survivors Share Harrowing Escape Tale from Cabin Fire.”
“Arson Suspected in Cabin Fire: Unraveling a Deeper Conspiracy.”
It’s the one with my sister’s picture on the front that truly unsettles me.
“Stop reading that crap.” Avery’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He swiftly snatches the newspaper from my scarred hands—reminders of the fire’s wrath.
How we escaped still puzzles me. Some call it a blizzard miracle, but I’m not sure what to label it. I’m just grateful we’re alive.
Avery collapses into a recliner at the healing center, our sanctuary for the past three days. Here, I’ve watched my mates nurse the burns they gained while rescuing us from that cabin.
Lex and Grace have a room of their own. Lex is constantly by her side, a pillar of support. When he’s away, Grace retreats into herself, her eyes losing their spark. My heart aches for her and all she’s endured. I hope they find their pack, their family, and flourish together.
As for my own pack, this ordeal has strangely united us. All past tensions over my heat and hormones seem trivial now, especially with my sister’s madness coming to light.
“Yes, I’d love more Jell-O,” Max mumbles from his chair, only to frown in disappointment. “What do you mean there’s no more orange Jell-O?”
Doctors really do make the worst patients.
Ashton takes the phone from Max, his voice firm. “Just bring whatever you have.” He ends the call, ignoring Max’s disgruntled look. “Don’t give me that glare.”
“I want orange Jell-O,” Max insists.
“And you’ll have to settle for what’s available,” Ashton retorts, his eyes flashing blue with a hint of his delta nature. Both he and Avery are under close watch here, a precaution against any potential berserk episodes, a side effect they both despise.
Beside me, Devlin sits in silent contemplation. His calm gaze rests on me, offering a serene contrast to the others. After Devlin revealed the truth about his father, his mother paid us a visit, introducing us to his siblings. His presence has been a grounding force amidst the chaos.
The group constantly checks in on us. Devlin’s mom, in particular, is making up for lost time, showering us with attention and care. Concerned about Violet’s solitude, I even asked her to visit Violet, but Violet’s response was classic—first insisting she was fine and then demanding every detail of our ordeal.
Gossiping with Violet felt amazing,and speaking the hard truths out loud helps me heal. Acknowledging the reality of what we faced and using my voice to confront it has been crucial in overcoming the pain.
“Why are you staring at me?” I murmur to Devlin, my head resting against the cushion.
“I’m just grateful,” he responds softly. “Grateful for you, for my family, and that we’re all still here.”
“Well, I’m disappointed,” I confess, earning a round of scowls from the group. “I never got to build a snowman.”
Peering out the large windows, I watch the snowflakes dance in the air. The second storm, swift and sudden, extinguished the fire and concealed Thea’s tracks. We must wait for the storm to pass before we can track her down and make her answer for her crimes, but for now, I’m fixated on a simpler desire—a redo of our heat and building a snowman.
At least a girl can dream, and that, I realize, is the most profound lesson.
Hope.
All my life, I shunned hope, convinced it only brought pain, but I’ve learned that hope is more than its mere definition. Hoping for a pack is one thing, but allowing myself to fall in love with that pack is an experience of a completely different magnitude.
Max flips his seat upright and presses the call button, summoning a mage—a service he’s used frequently. The last mage’s irritation with him was completely understandable.
The door swings open, revealing a woman with long, dark hair braided over one shoulder and tattoos adorning her bare arms. Dressed in a skin-tight dress more suited for a nightclub than a healing center, she steps in. “Maximillian,” she says in a richly accented voice, a hint of warning in her tone, “the Fates warned me about you.”
The Fates?
