Chapter 285 The Ancient Mysterious Tribe
Chapter 285 The Ancient Mysterious Tribe
Ella's POV
Mason's voice was icy, like it could freeze the air. He stared at Owen, emphasizing each word, "If you and Ella aren't related by blood, then who is her real family?"
Owen's gaze shifted from my face to Mason's, carrying a weight of determination and sorrow. "That's the big secret I need to tell you today. It's also the real reason the 'Master' organization has been targeting the Wildheart Pack."
He took a deep breath, and the atmosphere in the stone chamber grew even more oppressive and heavy with his next words.
I desperately searched Owen's face for any sign of a joke, even a cruel one. But there was none—only deep, unfathomable pain and a kind of tender pity.
That tenderness felt like the sharpest knife, cutting me to the bone.
Mason's question was also the one I feared and needed the answer to the most.
A wave of overwhelming confusion and helplessness washed over me again.
Owen's gaze left me and met Mason's hostile eyes.
His expression turned exceptionally grave, with a determination I had never seen before.
"Before I answer that question, I need to tell you something else."
Owen's eyes returned to me, filled with grief. "Ella, your mother's death was not an accident."
Memories of my mother, already scarce, surged forward.
"What did you say?" My voice was sharp with shock.
"It was murder."
Owen's words were like ice, "It was Colin's mother and that witch who conspired to kill her. Their goal was to eliminate any obstacles to their control over the Wildheart Pack."
That witch, again!
Anger, betrayal, and a tidal wave of delayed grief overwhelmed me.
I hadn't just lost my mother; she was taken from me! Beneath what I thought was a peaceful life, there was a dirty, bloody conspiracy.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, blurring my vision.
I could have grown up with my real mother, in warmth and happiness, but it was cruelly snatched away.
"Evidence?" Mason's voice pulled me back from the abyss of sorrow.
His arm tightened around me, as if building a barrier against the harsh truth. He was always like this, maintaining absolute composure and rationality no matter the situation.
"The evidence is here." Owen walked to a locked wooden chest on the other side of the chamber, using a peculiar key to open it. He took out a small box wrapped tightly in oilcloth and placed it on the stone table in the center.
He carefully opened the box, revealing an old, worn diary.
"This is our mother's diary."
Owen's voice was rough, "She always kept a diary, but this one she hid really well. It took me forever to find it after she died. It has her investigations into some weird stuff happening in the Pack. She sensed danger but didn't expect them to act so fast and brutally."
He opened the diary to a specific page, pointing to a section of neat handwriting. "Here, she mentions discovering that Colin's mom was secretly meeting with some unidentified werewolves and getting a substance she had never seen before. It was colorless, tasteless, and undetectable when mixed with food."
My eyes fell on the handwriting, and tears flowed again. My mom had been deliberately poisoned, bit by bit!
"As for the 'accident'," Owen's fists clenched, veins bulging on his arms, "I later found out that the guard responsible for checking her patrol route was ordered by Colin's mom to leave his post that day. It was all too coincidental."
Piece by piece, all the clues connected, forming a chilling truth. My teeth clenched, nails digging into Mason's arm, my body trembling with rage and sorrow.
Mason didn't stop me; he just silently endured, then gently placed his warm, dry hand over mine, soothing my near-breaking emotions with his touch.
He turned his head, brushing his cheek against my forehead. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing and push back the tears. Now wasn't the time to drown in sorrow; I had more questions that needed answers.
"Why?" I looked up at Owen with red eyes. "Was it just to control the Wildheart Pack? Why did that witch get involved?"
"Controlling the Wildheart Pack was only part of it."
Owen's expression grew even more serious. "More importantly, it was because of your mom, and you."
He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully. The air in the chamber felt frozen, and I could hear my own pounding heartbeat and Mason's steady breathing beside me.
"I don't know much about our mom's background."
Owen's voice carried a hint of helplessness. "She rarely spoke of her past. I only heard her mention it briefly a few times. She said she came from a very distant place, a very mysterious tribe."
"That tribe," Owen's eyes grew distant, as if recalling something, "according to her, was far older and more powerful than any werewolf tribe we know of, even beyond our wildest imaginations. They were true guardians, protecting ancient secrets and powers unknown to the world."
My heart clenched. An ancient, powerful, mysterious tribe—it sounded like a legend.
"Mom was from that tribe?" I pressed on.