FIFTY SIX

FIFTY SIX
SARA’S POV
The hallway was empty when I reached grandfather's quarters. Yellow tape crisscrossed the doorway like some kind of macabre gift wrapping. "DO NOT CROSS" screamed at me in bold black letters.
I looked both ways before ducking under it.
The room still smelled like him—peppermint and spite. My stomach turned. I needed to be quick. The sentinels would be making rounds soon.
"Where did you hide it, you old bastard?" I whispered, running my fingers along the edge of his desk.
The grimoire was all that mattered now. My maternal family's magic, passed down through generations until it reached my mother, and then me. Grandfather had taken it when he banished her. Hidden it away like everything else that gave me power.
I pulled open his desk drawers one by one. Nothing but papers, ink, and trinkets. I moved to the bookshelf next, scanning titles, checking behind rows for hidden compartments.
Still nothing.
My fingers trembled as I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small vial of wolfsbane tea I'd brewed in my room. The liquid caught the moonlight streaming through the window, glowing a faint purple. I needed to hide this somewhere they'd find it when they searched—somewhere that would tie the poison in Bastien's system to my grandfather.
A perfect frame job. Just like last time.
The false-bottomed drawer in his nightstand seemed perfect. I carefully placed the vial inside, making sure it was visible enough to be discovered but not so obvious it looked planted.
Then I went back to searching. The grimoire had to be here somewhere.
I tapped along the walls, listening for hollow spaces. Nothing. I checked under the bed, inside the wardrobe, behind paintings.
Frustration built inside me like a storm. I knocked over a crystal paperweight, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound was deafening in the quiet room.
"Who's there?" a deep voice called from the hallway.
Shit.
Heavy footsteps approached. A sentinel. I scrambled behind the curtains, pressing myself against the wall, hoping the thick fabric would hide me.
The door creaked open.
"I can hear your heartbeat," the sentinel said. "Just come out."
I took a deep breath and stepped from behind the curtain, hand raised in surrender.
"I apologize," I said, forcing a smile.
The sentinel frowned. He was young, probably new to the pack business. His uniform still looked crisp and unworn.
"You shouldn't be here, Lady Seraphina," he said, his tone firm despite the respectful title. "This area is sealed for investigation."
I nodded. "I know, but I needed to get something that belongs to me."
"What?"
"A book."
He sighed, looking almost sympathetic. "Perhaps you should come back tomorrow once we're done investigating."
"I don't have that patience," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Before he could react, I pushed my magic outward. It surged through my fingertips like lightning, striking him precisely where I aimed. His voice box first—crushed with invisible force. Then his spine, shattering just below the skull with a sickening crack.
He dropped to the floor, mouth opening and closing like a fish, no sound coming out. His legs twitched uselessly beneath him.
"Don't worry," I told him, turning back to my search. "I'll make you forget this ever happened."
My pulse raced as I tore apart the rest of the room. I needed that grimoire. Without it, I couldn't protect Darragh. I couldn't fix the mess I'd created.
Then it hit me—magic. I was thinking like a human when I had the power of a witch.
I closed my eyes, centering myself. The spell came easily now, words flowing from memory.
"What is hidden shall be found, what is lost shall be mine. Guide me to what I seek, find me the Maychild family book."
A thin silver thread appeared, glowing softly in the darkness. It snaked across the floor toward the fireplace, then down, disappearing into the hardwood.
A false floor. Of course.
I knelt, running my fingers along the edges until I found the catch. The panel lifted, revealing a hollow space beneath. And there it was—bound in worn leather, pages yellowing with age. My family's grimoire.
I lifted it out gently, relief washing over me. I flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for—the memory spell. The one that could erase and replace memories, bending reality to my will.
I walked back to the sentinel, who had bitten his tongue in pain. Blood pooled beneath his head.
"Let's use you as target practice," I said, kneeling beside him.
I placed my palm on his forehead, feeling the heat of his skin against mine.
"You got drunk and wasted here," I whispered, channeling my power into the words. "Nothing else, nothing more."
The magic flowed from me to him, rewriting his memories, erasing the truth. His eyes glazed over, then closed as unconsciousness took him.
I grabbed the grimoire and left without looking back.
My next stop was Darragh's quarters. I needed to know where he stood, what he planned to do. The sentinel outside his door straightened when he saw me approaching.
"Is Darragh still awake?" I asked.
"Perhaps you should show up tomorrow, Miss Saraphina," he replied stiffly.
I didn't have time for this. One quick magical push, and he slumped against the wall.
I pushed the door open without knocking.
Darragh was on his bed, wearing only boxer briefs. He sat up quickly when he saw me, grabbing for the blanket.
"Sara? What are you doing here?" His voice was rough with sleep or pain—maybe both. The bruises on his face had faded almost completely, but still painted his skin in ugly shades of purple and yellow.
"I need to talk," I said, closing the door behind me.
He pulled the blanket higher, covering his chest. "About what?"
"Are you still bringing the Delicate?"
"Yes."
I took a deep breath. This was it. No turning back.
"Then I have something to confess," I said. "I killed my grandfather, Darragh."
His eyes widened. "What?"
"It's true," I continued, my voice breaking. "And your father chose to protect me. Not because he's good, but because he wants to fuck me."
Tears welled up and spilled over. I hadn't meant to cry, but once I started, I couldn't stop. The grimoire slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
"I don’t… I don’t know what to say… Sara, why wouldn't you tell me?" Darragh said, his voice soft with shock.
I walked toward him, desperate for him to understand. "All I wanted to do was protect you in this life."
"In this life?" he repeated, confusion clear in his voice.
I closed the space between us. "And I will still do it. Your mother is not going to die this time around. You are not going to die because of Ciara in this life. I'll get rid of your horrible father early. I promise."
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. He didn't return the embrace. Instead, he stiffened.
"My mother won’t die this time around? Are you not from this time, Sara?" he asked quietly.
I pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Yes."
Understanding bloomed across his face, followed quickly by alarm as he saw my hands beginning to glow with magic.
"You're a witch?" he gasped.
"It will all be alright, Darragh," I whispered, raising my hands to his temples. "Everything will be fine."
The spell formed on my lips, ready to erase this conversation, to start fresh. But I hesitated.
Darragh stared at me, not with fear, but with something worse; disappointment. The same look he'd given my mother in my past life. When it was too late.
"Don't," he said. "Don't do this."
My hands trembled. I wanted to stop. I wanted to trust him with the truth. But I'd come too far, changed too much already.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
The magic flowed from my fingertips into his mind, gentle but unstoppable. His eyes went blank, then closed as he fell back onto the bed.
I caught him, easing him down gently. When this was over—when Bastien was gone and we were both safe—maybe then I could tell him everything. Maybe then he'd understand why I'd done the things I'd done.
But not yet. Not while there was still so much at stake.
I picked up the grimoire and slipped out of his room. The sentinel was still unconscious outside the door. I did the same thing to him. By morning, none of them would remember what had happened tonight.
Only I would carry that burden.
And I would carry it gladly if it meant saving Darragh this time around.