Chapter 40 Chapter 40

Chapter 40 Chapter 40


I picked up a pen from the nightstand, opened to a fresh page, and began to write.

Dear Mom and Dad,

It's been six years since I last wrote to you. Six years of trying to forget that night, of trying to become invisible. So much has happened in the past two days that I barely know where to begin...

The words flowed out of me, page after page of everything I'd kept bottled up. My shift, the triple bond, the Goddess speaking through me, Xavier Silverclaw's threats, the Williams brothers' confessions. By the time I finished, pale morning light was filtering through the curtains, and my hand was cramped from writing.

I closed the journal, tucked the photograph carefully inside, and finally allowed myself to sleep.

When I woke, it was nearly nine o'clock. I sat up and noticed someone had been in my room. It wasn’t hard to tell it was Asher. There were some new clothes sitting on the dresser, along with what looked like some kind of package with a note.

I didn’t want to wake you. Kyle and Caspian said you had a rough night. I’ve sent people to the school to pick up your late mother’s violin, and we’re going to have it checked and properly tuned for you. Thought you could use some more fresh clothes, and I noticed that you used to draw when you’d come and visit your grandmother before everything went wrong. I thought you might like to try that again.

I know things between us are weird and complicated, but I was wondering if I could take you to buy some new clothes. No need to say anything today, but the offer is there when you're ready.

Asher

I stared at the note, reading it three times before the words fully sank in. Asher had gone to get my mother's violin. The one that had been left in my locker during the attack, I hadn’t had a chance to go back and get it.

The package beside the note contained art supplies, sketchbooks, pencils, charcoal, and even a small set of watercolours. I ran my fingers over the smooth cover of one sketchbook, remembering how I used to lose myself in drawing before everything changed. Before I'd stopped believing I deserved to create beautiful things.

My phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: Still on for coffee? I'll pick you up at 9:45.

I glanced at the clock. That gave me forty minutes to shower and get ready. I texted back a quick confirmation and headed for the attached bathroom, grateful for the chance to wash away the emotional residue of last night's conversations.

The hot water felt like absolution against my skin, and for a few precious minutes, I let myself simply exist without thinking about bonds or destinies or ancient magical bloodlines. When I finally emerged, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I felt marginally more human.

The clothes Asher had brought were perfect, dark jeans that fit like they'd been tailored for me, a soft green sweater that brought out my eyes, and undergarments that were clearly expensive but not overly intimate. He'd even included comfortable boots. Everything fit perfectly, which meant he'd been paying closer attention to my size than I'd realised.

I was putting the finishing touches on my appearance when I heard a car pull up outside. Through the window, I could see Marcus getting out of a modest sedan, checking his phone. He looked normal, uncomplicated, exactly what I needed right now.

I grabbed my purse and the journal Kyle had returned, tucking the precious photograph safely inside. As I headed downstairs, I could feel the Williams brothers' presence in the house through our bonds, but mercifully, none of them appeared to intercept me.

"Ready?" Marcus asked as I stepped outside, his smile warm and genuine.

"More than ready," I said, meaning it completely.

The drive into town was blissfully ordinary. Marcus played soft music and made casual conversation about the weather, his classes, anything but the supernatural drama that had consumed my life. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe normally.

The coffee shop was a cozy little place called The Daily Grind, with mismatched furniture and local art on the walls. We found a corner table away from the few other customers, and I settled into my chair with a sigh of relief.

"You look exhausted," Marcus observed, not unkindly, as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

"That's putting it mildly." I wrapped my hands around my mug, savouring the warmth. "Thank you for this. For treating me like a normal person instead of whatever the current collective thought of me is right now. But I’ve heard that there were some unmated males in the pack beyond you that stood for me, bet that was a sight to see.”

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "It was something to see, alright. Kyle looked like he was about to shift right there in the meeting room when some of the guys started talking about how 'lucky' they were that you weren't mated yet." He took a sip of his coffee. "Your three shadows didn't take that well."

"My three shadows," I repeated, finding myself almost smiling despite everything. "That's what you called them in your text."

"Well, they have been following you around like lost puppies since the bond formed," Marcus said with a grin. "Though I suppose 'territorial wolves' might be more accurate."

I laughed, actually laughed, for what felt like the first time in days. "You're terrible."

"I'm honest. There's a difference." His expression grew more serious. "But really, Imogen, how are you handling all this? And I mean you, not what everyone expects you to feel about it."

I stared into my coffee, watching the steam rise. "I don't know. Yesterday I was nobody. Today I'm apparently the Goddess's chosen one, mated to three future Alphas, and being hunted by some psychotic wolf who thinks he owns me based on a contract I never agreed to." I looked up at Marcus. "How would you handle it?"

"Probably not as well as you are," he said honestly. "You're still here, still fighting. That counts for something."

"Am I fighting? Because most of the time, I feel like I'm just surviving. Barely."