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He shakes his head, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Not a soul. They even offered him an internship at Dragonstall Isles, at an archaeological site where they had uncovered what looked like a pyramid.”
I shake my head in amazement. “The great deception,” I say.
“To my knowledge, they remain unaware, or if they do know, they’ve kept silent. Max has made significant contributions to their community. I think they might know his true nature and have accepted him.” He shifts his gaze across the backyard toward the north. “This spot is my favorite on the estate. On a clear day, I feel like I can almost see the university, just over the mountains.”
His words inspire me. “Why not establish a similar college here?” I suggest. “Create your own college, welcoming all designations.”
He gives me a warm smile. “Maybe one day, I will.” Leaning closer, he offers a change of pace. “Would you like to help me make dinner?”
My heart warms at the invitation. “I’d love that,” I reply, eager to spend more time together.
CHAPTER 21
Max
Frustration simmers in my veins,a methodical, deep-seated anger that seeks an outlet. The impact of psychological trauma on an individual is something I understand too well professionally. The irony in this situation is not lost on me. Seraphina, the unwitting victim, remains oblivious. This ignorance, paradoxically, is both her shield and her vulnerability. The twins’ swift intervention spared her the immediate terror.
For how long.
Surrounded by a heavy snowfall, I observe the scene with a clinician’s eye. The snow, while masking potential clues, also offers a fresh canvas for evidence. The ground, only recently cold enough to sustain a snow cover, necessitates prompt action.
I inhale deeply, my senses tuned to detect and analyze.
Whose scent is this?
Beneath her window, the air holds a distinct, acrid scent, akin to citrus gone bad. It’s a chemical reaction, not just a smell, irritating the mucous membranes in my throat. I commit this scent to memory, a mental note etched with precision. Should Iever encounter this alpha—and my instincts, honed by years of study, tell me it is an alpha—recognition will be immediate.
Standing slowly, I methodically scan the old brick façade, seeking empirical evidence.
Nothing.
I turn, considering the layout. The parking lot and the building obstructing my view to the park all form part of the larger puzzle. Trusting the twins to conduct a thorough yet invisible search of her apartment, I stride toward the park with purpose.
My footsteps leave precise impressions in the thin snow. A brief glance back affords a view of Seraphina’s apartment.
The guys and I have a longstanding connection, solidified in the crucible of Grace’s tragedy. Initially, our bond was a byproduct of circumstance. The twins had been guardians of sorts to Grace since their shared youth. Their promise to protect her was a constant, at least until that night that altered everything.
I remember questioning Grace about her fascination with them. My inquiry was more than mere curiosity, it was a necessity. Their arrival in our family signaled a change. Their presence wasn’t just notable, it was significant.
Our unique scents—an amalgamation of the biological and environmental—mark us. The twins, with their distinctive delta scent, embody the unpredictability of nature, like the charged anticipation of a storm.
I used to believe that all scents merged into a singular sensory experience for me.
Until I met them.
Their scents were like dessert to my analytical mind, and I have a sweet tooth for such mysteries. In the realm of scent matches, it’s not unusual for male siblings to share similarities, but the occurrence is rare for male and female siblings. Giventhat Grace is an omega, and I am an alpha, our paths in the pack hierarchy would never naturally intersect, but she brought them home, sparking my curiosity. Was she drawn to their scents as irresistibly as I was?
I vividly recall her expression that day, an expression that seemed to say she knew, perhaps even orchestrated their meeting. “You are a match, aren’t you? I knew it. I knew they were perfect for you,” she exclaimed, her eyes alight with understanding, her squeals of delight still resonating in my memory, and her hug...
If I close my eyes, I can still feel that embrace. Since her attack, she’s refrained from such gestures, and I never pressed. It was only upon my return from my expedition that she allowed me to braid her hair again. That simple request gave me hope for her healing, a hope that I cling to. I used to braid her hair almost every evening, not because our mother couldn’t, but because I wanted to learn. I aspired to one day have an omega of my own to care for and pamper. In many ways, Grace was always the caretaker, even though she was younger. Bringing the twins to our doorstep was just one of her many thoughtful acts.
Even after her ordeal, she emphasized the importance of connecting with the twins, but I never did. It’s as though her attack cast a shadow over our young pack, a cloud that only started to lift with Seraphina’s arrival.
That fateful day, when I entered the bakery searching for Elenora, little did Seraphina know that Devlin, a character from our intertwined pasts, owned that bakery, among others. His ventures began after his departure from the beta university, but those details are inconsequential at the moment.
As I round the corner, I glance back, half expecting to see through the building to the twins inside. Since encountering Seraphina, it’s as if I’m seeing the twins anew. A pang of guiltstirs within me as I realize how my protective instincts toward Grace may have overshadowed my connection to the pack.
Now, when I look at Avery, I see more than a mere acquaintance. I see him as mine once again. His striking blue delta eyes, adorned with freckles, his lashes that seem almost artistically defined, and his unruly dark hair captivate me anew.
