Chapter 137

ISABELLA

I watched Spencer leave the penthouse first, carrying the last of our bags to the car. The door clicked shut behind him, and I was left alone in the quiet. The apartment felt so empty, so still, and yet my mind was anything but calm. A strange feeling lingered in the pit of my stomach—one I couldn't quite shake.

I shook my head and grabbed my own bag, heading for the elevator. Luca was already safe at the pack house, being doted on by Maggie, and I knew I needed to get back there soon. My heart ached with the need to be with him, with Asher and the others. Knox was still recovering, and every second I spent away felt like time wasted.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, and I stepped into the underground parking garage. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to where Spencer had parked the car. It felt eerily silent down here, the shadows stretching longer than usual, and I picked up my pace without really knowing why.

I reached the car and tossed my bag into the passenger seat, not really paying attention to anything other than my mounting desire to leave. The sound of the door closing echoed through the garage. It was only when I turned to look ahead that I froze.

The air left my lungs in a rush.

A woman was sitting in the driver’s seat. Not Spencer.

Her.

My mother.

My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. There was no mistaking her face, her eyes, the sharpness of her features that I saw in the mirror every day. The woman I thought was dead. The woman who had abandoned me without a word. She was right here, sitting in front of me as if she had every right to be.

"Hello, Isabella," she said calmly, her voice as smooth and composed as if this was just a normal reunion.

My breath caught in my throat as I spun around, desperately looking for Spencer. I spotted him slumped in the back seat, unconscious, his body lifeless against the seat.

"What did you do to him?" My voice trembled with anger and fear, barely able to contain the storm building inside me.

"He’s fine," she replied dismissively, her eyes flicking toward me. "I needed him out of the way for now."

The calmness in her voice, the way she so easily brushed off what she'd done—it made my blood boil. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, the rage rising inside me so fast I could barely think.

"Why are you here?" I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Why now? What do you want?"

She looked at me then, really looked at me, her eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. "I told you. You’ll get your answers. But not here, and not now."

My hands were shaking, my heart racing with the whirlwind of emotions inside me—anger, confusion, betrayal. "Answers?" I practically spat the word. "You left me! You let me believe you were dead! And now you show up out of nowhere, knock Spencer out, and expect me to just listen to you?"

She didn’t flinch. Her hands remained steady on the wheel as the car began to move out of the garage, and my panic surged. I needed to know what was going on, why she was doing this.

"You don’t understand," she said quietly, as if that was supposed to make everything better. "I left to protect you. It wasn’t safe for me to stay."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "Protect me? By abandoning me? By faking your death? How is that supposed to protect me?"

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of something passing across her face—guilt? Regret? It was hard to tell. "It was complicated, Isabella. I did what I had to do."

"Complicated?" I echoed, my voice rising. "You could’ve told me the truth! You could’ve told me who you really were—who my father was!"

I’d already learned from Knox that my father had been half-werewolf, a secret that had shaken everything I thought I knew. But to hear it from her—to know she’d known this all along and still left me in the dark—it was too much.

Her eyes flicked to me briefly before turning back to the road. "You weren’t supposed to be involved in this world," she said, her tone soft but firm. "I left to protect you from it. Your father and I both agreed it was the best way to keep you safe."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "Safe from what? From who?"

She hesitated, her silence heavy in the air between us. I could feel the tension, the weight of whatever she wasn’t saying. And I was done waiting.

"Tell me the truth, or so help me—"

"Your father’s bloodline made you a target," she said suddenly, cutting me off. "If the hunters had found out about him—about you—they would have killed you both. I couldn’t let that happen."

My chest tightened. "The hunters..." I whispered. "You were one of them."

Her silence was all the confirmation I needed. The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. My mother had been a hunter. The very people who would have hunted me, hunted my father.

I stared at her, my mind spinning, trying to piece it all together. "You left... because you couldn’t kill him," I said slowly, realization dawning on me. "You left because you couldn’t kill my father, even though it was your job."

She didn’t respond right away, but her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Yes," she admitted softly. "I couldn’t do it. And I couldn’t stay. So I left. I made them believe I was dead, just like your father. It was the only way to protect you."

The only way to protect me? My heart felt like it was being torn in two. Part of me wanted to believe her, to believe that she had done this for me. But the other part—the angry, betrayed part—couldn’t forgive her so easily.

"You should have stayed," I whispered, my voice cracking. "You should have told me the truth from the beginning."

She glanced at me, her eyes softening for the briefest moment. "I know. But I thought this was the only way."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. There were so many questions, so many things I didn’t understand. But one thing was clear: my mother was back, and she wasn’t going anywhere until she had finished whatever she’d started.