Chapter 44: Hidden Truths

Seraphine's POV

I froze, chest heaving, eyes still gold, the mark on my neck pulsing with heat.

"Seraphine?" Rowan's voice, muffled through the door. Concerned. "I heard loud noises. Are you alright?"

Fuck.

FUCK.

My eyes darted around the room.

Photos scattered across the carpet like evidence of a crime.

The book lying open where it fell.

Me—standing in the middle of it all, breathing hard, eyes probably still glowing gold, looking like I'd completely lost my mind.

Shit shit shit—

"I'm fine!" I called out, voice too sharp, too quick.

Smooth, Sera. Really convincing.

"Miss Seraphine." Rowan's tone shifted, taking on that formal-but-firm quality that meant she wasn't buying it. "I really must insist on checking. Those sounds were quite concerning."

The door handle turned slightly, testing.

She's coming in.

She's going to see—

Panic flooded cold through my veins, cutting through the rage like a knife.

The photos. Scattered everywhere. Obviously from the cabinet. Obviously hidden there for a reason.

If Kaelen finds out I went through his things—

If he knows I saw these—

My hands started shaking for an entirely different reason now.

He'll be furious. Worse than furious.

He'll—

I didn't want to think about what he might do.

The gold started fading from my eyes, shock overriding the jealous rage.

"Just—wait—" I called out, voice cracking slightly. "Give me a second—"

But the door handle kept turning.

Rowan's coming in.

And I have maybe ten seconds to make this room look like I didn't just have a complete breakdown over photos of some woman from eight years ago.

Ten seconds to hide the evidence.

Ten seconds before everything gets so much worse.

The mark on my neck pulsed one more time.

Then the door started to open.

---

I moved.

Fast.

Dropped to my knees, scooped up the nearest photos with shaking hands, shoved them under the bed.

Not enough time—

Not nearly enough—

The door swung wider.

I lunged for the book, grabbed it, hugged it to my chest like that was the most natural thing in the world.

Act normal. Act fucking normal.

My foot kicked the remaining photos further under the bed frame just as Rowan stepped through the doorway.

She was in her fifties, gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing a crisp black dress and an expression that said she'd seen everything and wasn't impressed by any of it.

Her sharp eyes swept the room immediately.

The boarded window.

The overturned chair I'd knocked over in my rage.

The carpet, slightly rumpled where the photos had been.

Me—kneeling on the floor, clutching a book, breathing too hard, hair a mess.

Fuck.

"Miss Seraphine." Her voice was level, but her gaze was calculating. "What happened here?"

I forced myself to stand, legs unsteady.

Keep it together. She doesn't know anything.

"I'm fine," I said, trying for casual and landing somewhere around mildly unhinged. "Just dropped something."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

She walked toward the window with measured steps, her shoes clicking against the hardwood.

Each click felt like a countdown.

Please don't look too closely.

Please don't notice the photos I missed.

Please—

Rowan reached the window, placed both hands on the wooden boards.

Pushed.

Tested the strength.

"The boards are still secure," she said, almost to herself. Then she turned to face me. "So that wasn't the sound I heard."

Shit.

"Like I said." I gestured vaguely with the book. "I dropped this. It's heavy. Made a loud noise."

Her gaze moved to the book in my hands.

Then to the overturned chair.

Then to my face.

She doesn't believe me.

She knows something's wrong.

"That must have been quite a fall," Rowan said, voice dry. "To make such a commotion."

I shrugged, moving casually—too casually—to position myself between her and the corner where I knew at least one photo was still visible under the bed's edge.

Block her view. Keep eye contact.

"I'm clumsy," I said flatly. "Sue me."

Rowan's expression didn't change.

But something shifted in her eyes.

A hardness.

A warning.

She took a step closer, and I fought the urge to back away.

Hold your ground.

Show no weakness.

"Gamma Cordelia warned you there would be consequences," she said, voice dropping lower. "For disobedience."

My jaw clenched.

Of course he did.

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"Haven't you?" She tilted her head slightly. "Alpha Kaelen has ordered me to monitor you closely. Very closely. He was quite specific about that."

The mark on my neck chose that moment to flare with heat, as if responding to his name.

I ignored it.

Ignore the bond. Ignore everything.

"So you're what," I shot back, "his spy?"

"I'm his employee," Rowan corrected coolly. "And I follow his orders. As should you."

She moved closer again, until we were maybe three feet apart.

I could smell her perfume now—something floral and old-fashioned that reminded me of funeral homes.

"Don't try anything foolish, Miss Seraphine," she said softly, but there was steel beneath the words. "Don't attempt to tamper with the window again."

"I didn't—"

"Don't have any more... disturbances." Her eyes locked onto mine. "Alpha Kaelen is not a patient man. And he does not tolerate disobedience."

The threat hung heavy in the air between us.

My wolf stirred in my chest, wanting to snarl back.

Don't. Not worth it.

"Dinner is at seven o'clock," Rowan continued, stepping back toward the door. "Be ready."

"Can't wait," I muttered.

She paused at the threshold, hand on the door frame.

Looked back at me one last time.

"Alpha Kaelen does not forgive stupidity, Miss Seraphine. Remember that."

Then she was gone.

The door clicked shut behind her.

But her footsteps didn't move away immediately.

She's listening.

Making sure I don't do anything else.

I stood frozen, barely breathing, clutching the book so hard my knuckles turned white.

Seconds ticked by.

Five.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Finally—finally—her footsteps moved away down the hall.

Getting quieter.

Fading.

Gone.

I waited another minute to be sure.

Then let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

My legs gave out.

I sank to the floor, back against the bed frame, head falling back.

Fuck.

That was too close.

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

My wolf's snarling quieted to a low rumble.

The mark on my neck cooled, but it still ached—a dull, persistent throb that wouldn't let me forget it was there.

Wouldn't let me forget what it meant.

I closed my eyes.

I hate him.

I hate this.

I hate that my body responds to him. That my wolf wants him. That this fucking bond exists at all.

But I couldn't deny it.

Couldn't pretend it away.

The jealousy when I'd seen those photos—that primal, burning rage—that had been real.

And that's what scares me most.

I forced myself to move.

Crawled across the floor on hands and knees, gathering the scattered photos from under the bed.

Each one I picked up felt like touching hot coals.

Don't look at them. Just put them back.

But I couldn't help it.

My eyes caught on the smiling one again.

That woman's face, so fucking happy.

Kaelen's arm around her, his expression soft in a way I'd never seen.

Who was she?

Why does it matter?

Why do I care?

I shoved the photo away, face down.

I don't care. I shouldn't care.

He's nothing to me.

Nothing but my captor.

I gathered the rest of the photos methodically, stacking them carefully.

Avoiding eye contact with any of them.

Just put them back. Pretend this never happened.

I stood, reaching up to replace them on top of the cabinet.

That's when I noticed it.

One photo, separate from the others.

Lying face down near the corner of the bed.

I picked it up slowly.

Turned it over.

The back had writing on it.