Chapter 381 381
Sabine POV
Discomfort churned through me thick, bitter waves of hatred and betrayal forcing their way into my dreams.
At first, I thought it was only the fading echo of a nightmare, one I’d already forgotten. But as I slowly pushed myself upright in bed…
Maurice wasn’t beside me.
The nausea tightened in my stomach, sharp and sudden, and that was when I realized the emotions flooding through me weren’t mine at all.
They were his.
I slid from the bed and padded quietly through the dimly lit house. Dawn hadn’t fully broken yet, pale light slipping through the tall windows, painting long shadows across the grand Alpha home.
It felt empty.
Too empty.
I made my way into the kitchen, needing cold water something to settle the sickness rising in my gut. As I drank, my eyes kept drifting toward the front door, toward the windows lining the hallway, searching for any sign of movement outside.
Was I expecting to see Maurice out there?
Wherever he was, the fury and unease pouring through the bond had my chest tight with worry.
I wandered again, my feet carrying me without thought until I found myself outside the Alpha office.
His office.
I stepped inside and moved toward his desk, lowering myself into his chair.
The room smelled like him.
The entire house did, really but in here it was stronger. Cinnamon and coffee. Warm. Grounding. Comforting.
Just sitting there eased the ache in my chest a little, the scent wrapping around me like invisible arms.
This was madness.
He had clearly been called out somewhere on pack grounds. I knew that. Yet the simple fact that I wasn’t physically near him right now felt unbearable.
Somehow, without realizing when it happened, I’d become addicted to him.
Completely in love.
Ever since I’d stopped fighting the bond stopped fighting my wolf, stopped fighting what we were meant to be it felt like the broken pieces of my life were finally finding their places again.
My fingers tapped softly against the desktop, the rhythmic drumming echoing through the quiet house.
I hated being alone.
It always dragged me back to that night after Mum died when Dad came to collect me. I’d thought the apartment would be ours. A fresh start together.
Instead, he’d set my suitcase down… and left.
The first night of my new life.
Spent crying alone.
I’d never known the warmth of a pack. Never had people standing behind me, protecting me, caring for me.
But now that I did… I finally understood why it was something worth fighting for.
The pack bond surged through my veins, alive and electric a powerful energy unlike anything I’d ever felt.
And with the mate bond now complete…
I had never felt so wanted.
So loved.
Not since Mum.
“The desk drawer?”
My wolf’s voice echoed inside my mind clearer now, stronger, more articulate than before.
It still startled me enough that I glanced around the room, half-expecting someone else to be standing there. Then I remembered.
It was just her.
Maybe one day I’d get used to it and stop second-guessing myself.
“The desk drawers,” she pressed again.
“No. That’s nosy.”
“I saw Maurice putting journals in there earlier. Check them.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I rolled my eyes then clicked my tongue in annoyance, realizing she couldn’t actually see my expression.
Fine.
I opened the top drawer, hoping Maurice wouldn’t mind me poking through his things.
Inside were several small leather-bound journals. I carefully lifted them out and spread them across the desk.
“I think they belonged to his father,” my wolf said eagerly. “Read them.”
“What for?” I snapped back. “You’re overstepping.”
“They might tell us something about Damien. About the shadow in his eyes.”
“What makes you think that?”
“When you were sleeping, I saw memories through the bond. Maurice as a child. Damien. Both fathers. Even back then, Damien’s father had darkness in his eyes.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Read them,” she insisted. “See if Maurice’s father noticed too.”
She was so bossy.
Remind me again why I ever went off those pills.
Despite myself, curiosity bloomed stronger than the lingering sickness from Maurice’s anger.
I flipped through the journals, scanning the pages, searching for any mention of my father.
Gaston.
There were countless entries about Maurice.
His father wrote of his pride, of his strength after losing his mother. Of how naturally leadership came to him. How he would one day be a powerful Alpha who would fight fiercely for what belonged to him.
Warmth spread through my chest.
Maurice never spoke about his parents much especially not his mother.
I hoped, wherever his father was now, that he knew his son had made him proud.
I kept reading until a name jumped out at me.
Damien.
Then Father.
The entry spoke of Gaston visiting, demanding the Ash Valley pack join the Bloodnight alliance.
Maurice’s father had refused.
Again.
And again.
Until Gaston had threatened not only him but the pack.
And Maurice.
My breath caught as I read the words scribbled in heavy ink:
What has become of the man I once called my friend? Anger. Greed. No… he is not his father. Something dark has taken hold of him as it did his own father before him. A shadow has fallen over the Bloodnight pack, over its Alpha. Even his eyes carry an unworldly darkness.
For the first time in my life, I fear what my refusal may mean for me… and for my son.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped, slamming the journal shut.
Maurice stood in the doorway.
Caught.
Red-handed.
“Maurice, I’m so sorry,” I rushed out. “I was looking for you”
That sounded weak.
“Where have you been?”
“At the borders,” he said with a tired exhale, stepping closer. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted. “My dad’s journals?”
He picked one up, turning it in his hands before looking back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “My wolf”
“Your wolf?”
“She wanted to see if your father had written anything about my dad. I found this.”
I passed him the open page, pointing to the entry.
My chest tightened as his brows pulled together while he read.
A horrible thought clawed its way into my mind.
What if…
What if my father was responsible for his death?
What if Gaston killed Maurice’s father?
“She’s talking to you more now?” Maurice asked quietly, closing the journal and handing it back to me to return to the drawer completely changing the subject.
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual bright smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Was everything okay at the border?” I asked softly. “I felt your anger.”
“You felt it?”
“It woke me up. It took me a while to understand what it was. What happened?”
“I’m going to have to teach you how to block my emotions,” he said firmly. Then he held out his hand.
“Come.”
I placed my hand in his.
“I want you back in our bed.”