Chapter 185 CHAPTER 185
Chapter 185 CHAPTER 185
Evelyn’s POV
I laid awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of that evening in my mind.
The knock at the door. Philly answering. The crash. The run through the back.The bushes.
The car? Had there been a car?
I wasn’t certain of it. But the details blurred every time I tried to focus. Like something inside me refused to look too closely. Or couldn’t. My fox was restless. I could feel her pacing beneath my skin. Uneasy, agitated. We were not aligned. There were fractures between us. And I knew why. When trauma happens, the fox sometimes takes it. Absorbs it. Hides it away so the human mind doesn’t shatter.
If I wanted answers, I had to go through her. And that meant one thing. The flame stage.
I hadn’t entered it fully since I was younger. The flame stage was not metaphorical. It was visceral. It required surrender. It required burning through the walls you built to survive. And I couldn’t do it alone.
By morning, I was already driving toward Alpha Michael’s estate. My mother was still there.
When I arrived, the air felt heavy with unspoken tension.
Alpha Michael wasn’t in the foyer when I entered. I was relieved. This wasn’t something I could explain easily. I found my mother in one of the smaller sitting rooms.
She looked up as I entered. “You look determined,” she observed.
“I need to go through the flame stage.”
We didn’t talk about our last encounter.
Her expression changed immediately.
“No.”
“I’m ready.”
“No,” she repeated, sharper this time. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“I do.”
She stood slowly.
“To enter that stage now, when you’re already emotionally destabilized?”
“I need clarity,” I cut in. “Philly is in custody. Alpha Raymond is under review. We’re losing ground because we don’t know the truth.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“And you think your fox holds it?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
The bond between fox and human is sacred. But it is not always seamless.
trauma is involved, the fox often steps forward. Protects.Absorbs. Carries the weight alone. And that creates distance.
“I can feel her,” I whispered. “She’s holding something back.”
My mother’s jaw tightened slightly.
“To access her fully,” she said slowly, “you will have to relive what she shielded you from.”
“I know.”
“You will feel it as if it is happening now.”
“I know.”
“You may not like what you see about me.”
That made me pause.
But only for a second.
“I need the truth.”
She studied me for a long moment.
Then she nodded once.
“Very well.”
—
We moved to one of the older rooms in the estate.
Quiet.
Shielded.
My mother closed the curtains and lit three candles, placing them in a triangular formation around where I sat on the floor.
“The flame stage is not about control,” she reminded me. “It is about surrender.”
“I remember.”
“You must let the fire consume the memory barriers.”
“And if I can’t come back?”
“You will,” she said firmly. “Because I will anchor you.”
I closed my eyes.Breathed slowly. Inhale.
Exhale.
I reached inward.Toward the place where my fox resided. At first, I felt only warmth.
Then heat and flame. It began in my chest A slow burn that spread outward, licking at the edges of my consciousness. My body trembled.
My breathing grew shallow.
“It’s beginning,” my mother’s voice murmured from somewhere distant. “Do not fight it.”
The fire intensified. Memories surfaced. Fragmented and blurred. Childhood nights filled with tension. Arguments behind closed doors. Xavier’s voice. Cold and mocking.
The flame grew hotter.
And then I wasn’t in the room anymore. I was small again. Hidden. My fox is fully awake inside me. Watching. Always watching. I saw Xavier’s shadow stretch across the hallway as he entered. Felt the terror ripple through my body. But my fox didn’t retreat. She stepped forward. Protective and fierce. I saw it clearly now. The times I thought I had been “brave” as a child. It had been her. Absorbing the fear. Suppressing the memory. Shielding my mind from breaking.
The fire flared again. And suddenly, I was in a different place. A locked room. The air was stale. Xavier standing over me. Kidnapped. Doing things to me. Again and again. My fox enduring it.
Enduring humiliation. Enduring restraint. So that I could wake up later with blurred recollection instead of full terror. Tears streamed down my physical face in the present, but inside the flame, I didn’t stop.
“Stay with it,” my mother’s voice echoed faintly.
The fire roared.
And then, the night of the attack. It was clearer now.
I gasped as awareness of the room returned.
The candles flickered violently.
My mother’s hands gripped my shoulders.
“You’re back,” she whispered.
Tears soaked my face.
“She knew him,” I said hoarsely.
My mother went still.
“You paused,” I continued, my voice trembling. “That night. You recognized him.”
Silence.
“And Philly,” I whispered, horror settling into place. “She chose to stop fighting.”
Because there had been terms. There had been an exchange. My fox stirred gently within me now. Not fractured. Aligned. She had carried it for years. All of it. Xavier. The kidnappings. The staged chaos. The nights in the dark. And she had done it to protect me. To protect my sanity. To preserve my future.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling her steady presence.
For the first time in years, we were whole. And the truth was far more dangerous than I had imagined.