Chapter 63: Chapter 63

Adelie

I was still feeling awful, but Maeve was reaching out to me. Despite everything I’d done to her, she was reaching out. If I hadn’t intervened, she’d still be her old self, still a werewolf.

But my feelings didn’t matter at this point. Maeve was awake, and I needed to be there for her. I shoved all my other emotions aside and hurried to her place.

Everyone was at training, which made it the perfect time for me to be out and about, looking as I did: pale, bags under my eyes, green veins standing out on my forehead.

At least my cardigan was hiding my bruised arm, which looked like it could fall off at any moment.

The journey seemed longer than usual, more exhausting. Or maybe I was just feeling hollow inside, weak and worthless like an old rag forgotten in a dusty attic corner.

I didn’t bother knocking when I arrived. As soon as I walked in, I realized it was a good thing I hadn’t. Maeve’s caretaker and James were both trying to break down her door.

“Luna, we need something strong,” James said to me. I moved closer and positioned myself by the door, signaling the caretaker to step back.

She did, and I gently knocked on the door.

“Maeve,” I called out softly, as if I was afraid of shattering something. I heard the lock click open but didn’t immediately enter.

I turned to James and the caretaker. “I’ll go in alone,” I told them.

They didn’t seem happy about it, especially James, but there was a reason she had called me.

I slowly entered her room and locked the door behind me. Maeve was standing with her back to me, still wearing the same clothes I’d last seen her in: old sweatpants and a knitted sweater.

The room smelled stale, like it hadn’t been aired out in a while.

“Maeve?” I asked, because she wasn’t turning around. Her posture was straight and graceful. From behind, she looked fine. More than fine.

Sure, her hair was greasy and unkempt, but that didn’t hide the fact that she looked stronger. “Maeve, look at me,” I said again when she didn’t respond. “Please.”

Her arms were crossed in front of her, but with a heavy sigh, she let them fall and slowly turned around, her gaze fixed on the floor. She still looked fine. Why was she hiding?

“Maeve, what’s wrong?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. But she had heard me. I knew because she finally looked up at me.

Her eyes. That’s what she was hiding. Her eyes were different.

They didn’t have that vacant stare anymore. Her eyes were very much alive—only they were red, a deep, blood red.

She looked me over, taking in the mess I was, but she didn’t say anything. I was grateful for that. I didn’t have the energy to explain what had happened, and right now, it didn’t matter.

Maeve’s eyes were beautiful—different, but beautiful. She seemed okay, but she was clearly shaken and tense.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her, keeping my voice gentle so as not to startle her. I was trying to understand her. I didn’t know how different she felt now.

She pointed to the table, where I noticed shards of glass scattered around. I assumed she’d broken a few glasses. But then I realized that wasn’t what she was showing me. She was pointing to the empty food trays.

“I ate,” she finally said, and my gaze snapped back to her. It was so good to hear her voice again. Her voice was the same, soothing, like something you’ve missed for a long time.

“I ate a lot. It’s not enough,” she said, her voice fragile, on the verge of breaking.

She craved blood. Even though she didn’t voice it, I could tell she knew what her body was yearning for. No amount of food could ever satisfy her like a single drop of blood.

I glanced at the floor, realizing my discomfort was nothing compared to hers.

“Maeve, you need blood,” I told her. Her eyes clamped shut, as if hearing it out loud made it more real—like she was hoping she could somehow survive without it.

I wasn’t the one who turned her, but I felt responsible. I was burdened with the guilt of healing her at the wrong moment. Sometimes, healing isn’t the best course of action.

I just wish I had learned that lesson differently.

A loud knock echoed from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay?” the caretaker inquired.

“Yes,” I responded instantly. “We just need a bit more time.” I moved closer to her. “Sit down,” I instructed, and she complied without a word.

I questioned whether my next move was the right one. I approached the table littered with shattered glass, selected the largest piece, and found the sharpest edge.

I dragged it across my palm, cutting deeper than I intended due to my own strength.

I turned to face Maeve, who was already staring at me, her head shaking slightly. But I knew she could already smell it.

The scent of blood made her shoulders stiffen, her gaze locked onto my bleeding hand.

I moved to sit beside her. Unsure of how this would play out, I reached out to Kairos through our mind-link.

~“Maeve is awake,”~ I informed him before severing the connection. I knew he would rush over immediately. That’s why I had to act now, before he could intervene.

I lifted my hand to her mouth, and she instinctively knew what to do. Like a baby tasting warm milk for the first time, Maeve was savoring my blood, feeding her vampire instincts.

It wasn’t long before I felt the need to stop. She could keep going for hours until my body was drained and lifeless.

“Maeve, that’s enough,” I whispered, though it did little good. She was stronger now, but still struggled to control her thirst.

I attempted to pull my hand away, but she held on tighter. I knew she wouldn’t let go easily. I could already feel her newfound strength.

I gripped her neck, applying pressure to remind her she needed to regain control, to at least make an effort.

She gagged but didn’t release my hand immediately. I applied more force, and finally, she let go, panting heavily, her lips stained with my blood.

Just then, the door burst open, but I didn’t turn. I kept my focus on Maeve, who was still struggling.

With my hand still on her neck, I guided her to lie down on the bed. She complied, but I could feel her body tense.

I only released my grip when her breathing steadied. When I was sure she was back in control, back in reality.

I looked up to find Kairos's gaze. He didn’t utter a word, just nodded. He understood what I had done. And at that moment, it was the right thing to do.

Someone had to do it.

Kairos

Adelie retreated to her room. She was weakened.

I wasn’t sure what they had done to her, but I needed to find out before it was too late. She was involved in something dangerous, something she couldn’t even share with me.

How was I supposed to spend the entire night waiting, not knowing where she was, fearing she might not return? Was this what love was? Was this our love?

We had secrets, perilous secrets.

I sat in my study, the bracelet I found at the spot where Adelie vanished with the woman in the red cape clutched in my hand.

I had to find out who it belonged to. It could have been carelessly lost by a werewolf, or perhaps it was left behind by the woman in the red cape. I was desperate for answers.

So, there I was, holed up in my study. I was anticipating a visitor. The sound of a knock echoed through the room, and Riley swung the door open, signaling with a nod that it was time.

I rose from my chair and positioned myself in front of my desk as an elderly woman stepped into my study. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving us in solitude.

“Miss Farrington,” I greeted, offering my hand. She accepted it, her old, cold, rough hands enveloping mine.

Her eyes lacked the warmth typically found in those of her age. She seemed stern, even a bit grumpy. But she was impeccably dressed. Her hair was neatly arranged, and her attire was strictly formal.

“Garcia,” she acknowledged, nodding in my direction. “I’m pressed for time,” she stated, taking the liberty to seat herself.

I resumed my seat across from her.

“I require the assistance of your unique sight,” I began, holding up the bracelet. “You have the ability to discern its owner. I need you to help me identify them.”

Miss Farrington was seasoned by age, but she also possessed a rare gift, akin to a dog’s ability to track a person by scent.

But her abilities were far more profound.

“And what do I get in return?” she retorted, a fair question.

“Anything you desire.”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m an old woman, Garcia. I don’t need much. Let’s consider this a repayment for the kindness your family showed me in my youth when they welcomed me into this pack.

They were there for me when I was alone and destitute. I never had the opportunity to repay them, so I’ll repay you now,” she declared, taking the bracelet into her hands.

“It appears to be a communal bracelet,” she observed, scrutinizing it, “indicating membership in a clan. Well, let’s find out,” she said, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist.

For a moment, she seemed to doze off, sitting upright. She was motionless, her breathing barely perceptible, but soon she was back with me. She stood, tossing the bracelet onto my desk with a look of satisfaction.

“I’ve still got it,” she smirked. “I can provide not only a name but a location.”

“Melanie Perkins. Clan: Serenities.”