Chapter 200

Chapter 200
Deric

I left the pack tower that day with a weight in my chest I couldn’t quite name. The fog clung to the trees and paths as if it knew I was lost, trying to pull me back, to hold me in some kind of suspended limbo where everything made sense but nothing did at all. I walked without direction, the crunch of fallen leaves under my boots the only sound daring to disturb the oppressive silence that had settled around me.

Every step I took, I ran through the conversation with Elvira. Her words replayed in my mind, looping endlessly, tangled in every memory I had of her from the first day I had seen her, down to the last time we spoke. She had called me her brother, and for a heartbeat, I had denied it. I wanted to deny it, to push it away. But the birthmark… the exact pattern she had described, the one hidden at the nape of her neck, the same one I had inherited—it was irrefutable.

I stopped abruptly, letting the memory wash over me. My mind reeled. My father had told me I was adopted. I had known something had always been missing. There had been gaps in my childhood, holes I couldn’t fill no matter how hard I tried. The pieces had never fit together, and now, the picture was emerging in one horrifying, beautiful clarity.

Elvira wasn’t just the girl I had always known in Bloodmoon, the one I had avoided confessing my feelings to, the one I had secretly admired from afar—she was my sister. My blood. The family I had never known I had.

And suddenly, everything clicked. Every inexplicable feeling, every protective instinct I had felt, every moment I had felt like I was meant to be close to her but could never cross the line, it all made sense now. I hadn’t been rejecting her because of cruelty or detachment; I hadn’t been drawn to her romantically because it wasn’t supposed to be that way. My emotions had been raw, misdirected, and confusing simply because I had never realized she was family until this morning.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. Every breath came in shallow bursts, and I realized I had been walking in circles, unaware of how far I had drifted from the pack tower. The fog that had seemed protective now felt like a shroud, concealing me from the world, from my own reckoning.

I remembered the first time I had seen her after Jaxon found out about her being his mate. She had looked… broken, and yet unbroken. Resilient. Fierce in a way I had never dared to be around her because I had never understood my own boundaries with her. I remembered how she had moved through the corridors with her head high, eyes flicking over the pack, assessing, observing, and yet… there had been moments when her gaze found me, lingering just long enough to pierce the fog around my own heart.

The memory of her that morning, confronting me outside my apartment, hit me like a physical blow. The anger I had felt toward myself, toward my father, toward the world for keeping the truth from me, it all collided in my chest. I was furious, yes, but also… relieved. The puzzle pieces were finally snapping into place, even if the edges were jagged, uneven, and sharp.

I found a fallen tree trunk beside the path and sat down heavily, the dampness of the moss seeping through my clothes. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of everything, letting the silence of the forest cradle me. My father’s words echoed in my mind again, his voice dry, distant, yet carrying the weight of all the secrets he had buried. I understood that day. And yet, understanding brought with it an avalanche of emotion I wasn’t prepared for. Anger, confusion, sorrow, and a deep, aching yearning for the family I had never known. My fingers grazed my neck, instinctively seeking the familiar line of my birthmark, the proof of what had been kept from me. It was there, sharp and undeniable. And with it, the flood of emotions came rushing in.

I could still see her face, Elvira’s face, in my mind’s eye, the mixture of hope, fear, and relief that had crossed her features when she had finally seen me, confirmed her suspicions, and called me brother. She had reached out, offered a bridge between our fragmented pasts, and yet… I hadn’t been able to take it all in at once.

“I’m… I’m your brother,” I whispered to the trees, to the fog, to no one at all. My voice trembled. “And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Memories of our childhoods, though separated, began to intertwine in my mind. The lonely nights, the half-formed recollections of a mother I barely remembered, the vague hints of a family I had only imagined, I began to stitch them together with the threads of truth that Elvira had placed before me. Each thread was delicate, but they were real, tangible. And they connected me to her.

I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated by my inability to process everything. I wanted to speak, to shout, to ask questions, but there was no one there to answer. I was alone with the weight of revelation pressing down on my chest, each breath coming in tight, stuttering bursts.

I thought of Jaxon then, of how he had looked at Elvira with a mix of anger, sorrow, and a tenderness that had always been uniquely his. I realized that even in the midst of my own turmoil, there was a wider network of bonds, of connections, and that Elvira’s life—our lives—were intricately woven into them. I felt a feeling regret for how distant I had allowed myself to remain from her and the pack.

Shaking off the fog of introspection, I stood, feeling the damp moss and fallen leaves give slightly under my boots. I began to pace again, my steps deliberate, measured, as if the motion would help me sort the chaos in my mind. Each step brought another memory, another fragment of understanding.

I found myself muttering under my breath, “All this time… all this time, it was always family. Always meant to be… in a way I couldn’t understand.” My voice was almost swallowed by the fog, the only sound was the rustling of the trees and the distant drip of water from a nearby branch.

And then the anger hit, sharp and cold. Anger at my father for keeping this from me despite knowing I was adopted, anger at the years of confusion and misdirection, anger at the loneliness I had endured unnecessarily. But with that anger came clarity. I was not lost anymore. I had a direction. I had a purpose. I had a sister who had reached for me, who had trusted me with a truth that would change both our lives forever even though I had once hurt her.

“Elvira,” I whispered into the mist, my voice firmer this time. “I understand now. I understand you… and me… and us. And I won’t let this… this chance slip away.”

I could feel the weight of the past begin to lift, there was still much to uncover, many secrets to confront, but for the first time in my life, I felt anchored. I felt connected.

And as I stood there in the silence, with only the forest and the fog as witnesses, I realized that being drowned in confusion and lost for years had not killed me. I had survived. I was here. I was alive. And though the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, I would face them, with Elvira, with our family, with the truth finally in my hands.

For the first time, I felt whole.