Chapter 72 The Search for Roots
My bedroom door clicked shut behind me, the sound soft but final, sealing me in with the silence that felt too heavy to bear. I leaned against the door, the wood cool against my back, my breath coming in shallow bursts that fogged the air in front of me. My body ached, the shift's aftereffects lingering like bruises under my skin, muscles sore from the explosive transformation, the burning stretch of bones and the rip of fur erupting in a rush of power and pain.
I couldn't believe it. How had I gone from a normal girl studying architecture, navigating a fake marriage, falling for a man I shouldn't to this? A girl with a werewolf side. Claws that extended like knives, fur that burst forth in waves, instincts that took over when fear peaked. The rite had stirred it, the fight had unleashed it fully. No going back. The awakening was complete. I felt different, stronger, sharper, the world alive in ways it never had been. The heightened senses turned everything vivid: the distant creak of the house settling, the soft rustle of snow against the window. But it scared me. Who was I? Now it was time to look for answers. Real ones. My real family, the ones who'd left me at an orphanage. I'd never wanted to think about them. Mom and Lily were my family, the only one I'd known, the only one I'd needed. Blood or not, they were real. At sixteen, Mom had sat me down in our small kitchen, the smell of her homemade soup filling the air, her hands trembling as she held mine. "You're adopted, sweetheart," she'd said, voice soft but steady. "I was adopted too. I promised myself I'd give another child the chance at a real family, the kind I got." Lily was adopted as well, but no one knew; Mom treated us so equally, loved us so fiercely, it never mattered. They were my real family.
But now... now it did. The shift, the power, the pack war crashing into our lives, I couldn't ignore the questions anymore. It was in my blood. And if I was going to understand this new me, this awakened self, I needed to know where it came from.
I pushed off the door, legs steadier, and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, the screen cool under my fingers. The battery was low, the time reading 10:47 a.m. I dialed Mom's number, heart pounding. It rang once, twice, voicemail. I tried again, pacing the room, the carpet muffling my steps. Third ring, she picked up.
"Hello? Maddie?"
"Mom," I said, voice cracking slightly. "Hi. How are you feeling?"
A soft laugh on the other end, warm and familiar. "Better today. The nurses say I'm making progress. How about you, sweetheart? Is everything okay?"
I leaned against the window, the glass cold on my forehead, the view of the snow-dusted garden blurring. "I'm good. Just... checking in. I love hearing your voice."
We talked for a minute, her treatment, the hospital food terrible, as always, Lily's latest school drama. She sounded okay, stronger than last week, the chemo's side effects easing. Relief washed over me, but the question burned.
"Mom," I said finally, voice hesitant. "I'm sorry to ask this, after I promised I never would, but do you know anything about my real family? My biological parents?"
Silence on the line, then a gentle sigh. "It's okay, honey. I understand. You want to know. I don't have much, just that you were left at the orphanage as a baby. No note, no names. The staff said your parents were young, couldn't keep you. That's all I know. But the orphanage might have records. I'll send you the address after we hang up."
My throat tightened. "Thanks. If I need my certificate or anything, can I go to the house and pick it up?"
"Of course. The key's still under the flowerpot by the door. Take what you need."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too. Call if you find anything, or if you just want to talk."
The call ended, the phone heavy in my hand. The address pinged in a text moments later, another city, 1 hour 45 minutes drive. I stared at it, the screen glowing in the dim room. Answers. Maybe.
I showered quickly, the hot water cascading over me, steam filling the bathroom with lavender again, washing away the sweat and blood from the fight. I dressed in jeans and a thick coat, boots laced tight, hair pulled into a ponytail. Downstairs, I checked on Alexander, he was in the sitting room, bandaged but awake, talking softly with Rafe. His eyes met mine, the bond warm with relief.
"I'm heading out," I said. "I need to go somewhere. Be back later."
He frowned, reaching for my hand. "Stay. Rest. It's not safe out there."
"If I insist?"
He sighed, squeezing my fingers. "Be careful."
I nodded, kissing his cheek, his skin warm, stubble rough, and left.
The drive was long, the roads winding through snow-covered fields, the radio playing soft music that did nothing to quiet my thoughts. The orphanage address led to a small building in a quiet town, brick, old, with a sign faded by time. My hands shook as I parked, the engine ticking in the cold.
Inside, the receptionist was kind, pulling files after I explained. But the records were thin, baby girl, no name, dropped off anonymously. No parents. No leads.
Nothing.
I left empty-handed.
The door shut behind me with a sound that echoed too loudly in the quiet hallway. It wasn’t the click that bothered me, It was the silence that followed.
I stepped down the front stairs of the orphanage, boots crunching softly against the thin layer of snow, my breath puffing out in pale clouds. The town street beyond the iron gate lay still, empty, like the whole place had paused mid-breath. No passing cars, no voices, no distant hum of life. My wolf stirred uneasily. Something’s wrong.
I reached for my keys, fingers brushing the cold metal in my coat pocket, and that was when I felt it. Eyes on my back.
The sensation was sharp, unmistakable, a prickle crawling up my spine. I stopped mid-step and glanced back over my shoulder. The front door’s glass panel reflected the gray sky behind me. And the receptionist, she stood just inside, perfectly framed by the doorway, her posture relaxed, hands folded in front of her as if she were simply watching the snowfall. Her eyes, however, were locked on me, not polite, not curious, assessing.
Her lips curved, not into a smile, but something colder. Knowing. My wolf snarled, a low vibration under my skin.
I turned fully this time, my heart beginning to pound. The distance between us wasn’t far. I could see her clearly now, the way her gaze tracked every small movement I made, the unnatural stillness of her body, then she lifted one hand, two fingers pressed lightly to her ear.