Chapter 27 CHAPTER 27
Vivienne's POV
Rafael stood by the door, watching me with that intense expression. Like he was ready to jump in and help the second I needed it.
Emma was pulling things from my closet—the three dress shirts I owned, my one pair of nice pants, my winter coat.
"Books?" Emma asked, looking at my desk.
I nodded, moving to gather them. I had a lot of books—mostly fantasy novels I'd gotten from the library. They were my escape from reality. Vampires, fae, witches, werewolves—anything that took me somewhere else.
Emma started stacking them. "Wow, you really do read a lot."
"They help me forget," I said quietly.
Rafael moved closer, and I saw him reach for the pile. He picked up the book on top, and I felt my stomach drop.
Moon Marked: A Werewolf's Mate.
Oh God. Of all the books.
I'd just gotten that one from the library last week. Haven't finished it yet—only made it through the first few chapters about a girl who discovers werewolves are real and finds out she's fated to be one's mate.
Rafael stared at the cover. A massive black wolf silhouetted against a full moon, its eyes glowing red.
His entire body went rigid.
His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened on the book. And something flickered across his face—recognition, maybe? Or guilt?
He set the book down carefully, like it had burned him.
"You like werewolf stories?" His voice sounded strained.
"Um, yeah." I grabbed the book quickly, shoving it into my backpack. "I like all kinds of fantasy. It's just... an escape."
He didn't respond. Just stood there staring at where the book had been, his expression tight.
My mind started racing.
His reaction to that specific book. The cover with the wolf's glowing red eyes—the same color I'd seen in Rafael's eyes. Twice.
The way he'd moved tonight. Too fast. Too strong. That inhuman growl when he'd threatened my uncle.
And…that impossible strength he used to fling him away.
No.
That was crazy. Werewolves weren't real. They were fiction. Stories.
But...
My eyes drifted to Rafael, who was still standing there, tension radiating from every line of his body. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.
What if they weren't just stories?
What if—
No. I was being ridiculous. Letting my imagination run wild because I was scared and confused and everything was too much.
But I needed to know. Needed to be sure I was wrong.
I grabbed the rest of my books—including two more werewolf novels I had on my shelf—and packed them carefully. I'd read that book cover to cover tonight. Do research. Prove to myself that I was being completely insane.
Because the alternative—that werewolves were real and Rafael was one—
That was impossible.
Right?
I moved back to my desk, trying to focus on packing, when my hand brushed against something at the bottom of the drawer.
A photo frame. Small, wooden, the corners worn from years of handling.
I pulled it out slowly, my throat tightening.
Mom and Dad.
The photo was from my tenth birthday. We were at the park—Dad had his arm around Mom's shoulders, and I was in front of them, grinning with my two front teeth missing. We looked so happy. So normal.
Before the accident. Before everything fell apart.
"Vivi?" Emma's voice was soft. "You okay?"
I wasn't okay. Couldn't be okay.
The tears came without warning, hot and fast. A sob broke from my chest, painful against my bruised throat.
"Hey, hey." Emma was beside me instantly, wrapping her arms around me. "It's okay. Let it out."
But it wasn't okay. Nothing was okay.
My parents were gone. My uncle had tried to kill me. I was leaving the only home I'd had for three years with nothing but a duffel bag and a backpack.
And I was pretty sure the boy who'd saved me wasn't human.
Everything was falling apart.
"They would be so proud of you," Rafael said quietly.
I looked up at him through my tears. He'd moved closer, his expression gentle in a way I'd never seen before.
"Your parents," he continued. "They'd be proud of how strong you've been. How hard you've worked. How you survived in a place that tried to break you." He paused. "You're not weak, Vivienne. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met."
The words broke something open inside me. I buried my face in Emma's shoulder and cried harder.
"We've got you," Emma murmured, holding me tight. "You're not alone anymore, Vivi. You're never going to be alone again."
Rafael knelt down beside us, and I felt his hand on my back—warm, steady, grounding. Those sparks danced across my skin even now, even through the fabric of my shirt.
We stayed like that for a minute, maybe two. Until my tears slowed and my breathing evened out.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling back and wiping my face. "I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't apologize," Rafael said firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Emma squeezed my hand. "Come on. Let's finish packing and get out of here."
I nodded, clutching the photo frame to my chest. This was coming with me. Along with a few other things—a stuffed bear my mom had given me, a bracelet my dad had bought me, the birthday cards they'd written before they died.
Everything else could stay.
Within ten minutes, my entire life was packed into two bags.
It was depressing how little I actually owned. How little I had to show for three years of living here.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe leaving with almost nothing meant I could start fresh.
Rafael took my duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder even though he still looked pale and weak. "Ready?"
"Yeah." I grabbed my backpack, feeling the weight of the books inside—especially that werewolf novel. "I'm ready."
We walked back into the living room, and I stopped short.
Mathias was there, bent over Uncle Martin's unconscious body. As I watched, he reached down and—
Lifted him.
Just. Lifted him.
Like Uncle Martin weighed nothing.
My uncle was a big man. Easily two hundred and fifty pounds. Maybe more. And Mathias just scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder like he was carrying a bag of groceries.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't… possible.
Unless...
I clutched my backpack tighter, feeling the book inside pressing against my back.
I needed to read it. Tonight. As soon as possible.
Because if my suspicions were right—if what I was thinking was somehow, impossibly true—
Then everything made sense.
The red eyes. The strength. The speed. The growl. Mathias's impossible strength.
Werewolves.
My eyes drifted to Emma, who was watching me with a carefully neutral expression.
She knew. She had to know whatever was going on.
"Emma," I said slowly, my voice still raspy. "What—"
"Not now," she said quickly, grabbing my hand. "We'll explain everything later, I promise. But right now, we need to get your uncle to a hospital and get you somewhere safe."
"But—"
"Later, Vivi. Please."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers right then and there.
But I was exhausted. My throat hurt. My entire body felt like it was about to collapse.
So I just nodded and let Emma guide me out of the apartment.
Rafael walked beside us, still carrying my bag, his eyes scanning the hallway like he expected danger to jump out at any second.
We made it down to the car. Mathias had somehow managed to get Uncle Martin into the trunk—I didn't even want to think about how he'd accomplished that—and was already behind the wheel.
I climbed into the back seat with Emma. Rafael took the passenger seat again.
The car pulled away from the apartment building for the second time tonight.
—----
"Okay, so what's the story?" Mathias asked as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.
"Story?" I croaked out, my voice still rough.
"Yeah. We can't just roll up with a guy who looks like he went ten rounds with a freight train and say 'found him like this, bye!'" Mathias pulled into a spot near the emergency entrance. "We need a believable story."
"How about the truth?" I suggested weakly.
"The truth involves Rafael breaking down a door and beating the shit out of him," Emma pointed out. "That's not going to fly."
Rafael twisted in his seat to look at us. "We found him in an alley. Some guys were mugging him. We scared them off and brought him here."
"That works," Mathias said. "Simple. Believable. No one can trace it back to us."
"What about witnesses?" I asked.
"It was dark. We were too far away to see faces. Classic Good Samaritan situation." Mathias grinned. "Trust me, I've done this before."
"You've done this before?" I stared at him.
"Not the time, dude," Rafael muttered.
Emma squeezed my hand. "Can you cry on command?"
"What?"
"We need to sell this. You're the concerned citizen who insisted we bring him here. You were so worried about him." She looked me over. "And honestly, with those bruises on your neck, you already look like you've been through hell. Just... add some tears and they'll believe anything."
This was insane. We were actually doing this.
"Okay," Mathias said, killing the engine. "Rafael, you stay in the car. You look like you're about to pass out, and we don't need questions about why you're covered in blood."
Rafael nodded, leaning back against the seat.
"Emma and Vivi, you're with me. Let's do this quick." Mathias hopped out and went to the trunk.
I climbed out slowly, my legs still shaky. Emma stayed close to me as Mathias somehow hefted Uncle Martin out of the trunk and onto his shoulder again.
"Remember," Emma whispered as we walked toward the emergency entrance. "You found him in an alley. You were so scared. You just wanted to help."
The automatic doors slid open, and we stepped into the bright fluorescent lighting.
A nurse at the desk looked up and her eyes went wide. "Oh my God! What happened?"
"We found him!" I blurted out, and to my surprise, actual tears started forming. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was everything catching up to me. "We were driving by and we saw him in an alley and there were these guys and—"
My voice broke convincingly.
"She's been traumatized," Emma jumped in, wrapping an arm around me. "We got there just as the attackers were running away. We didn't see their faces. It was too dark."
"He needs help," Mathias added, adjusting Uncle Martin's weight. "He's been unconscious the whole time. I think his ribs are broken. Maybe his nose too."
The nurse was already calling for help. "Get a gurney! We've got an assault victim!"
Two orderlies rushed over with a stretcher. Mathias laid Uncle Martin down gently, and they immediately started wheeling him toward the ER.
"We'll need statements from all of you," the nurse said, grabbing a clipboard.
"Of course," Emma said. "But my friend here—" She gestured to me. "She's really shaken up. Could we maybe sit down for a minute?"
"Yes, absolutely. Right this way."
The nurse started leading us toward a waiting area, her back to us.
Emma caught my eye and jerked her head toward the exit.
Oh.
Oh.
We were making a run for it.
"Actually," Mathias said loudly, "I think I left my phone in the car. Be right back."
He headed for the doors.
"And I need to use the bathroom," Emma added. "Vivi, come with me?"
"Um, okay," I whispered.
We started backing toward the exit. The nurse was busy with her clipboard, not paying attention.
We made it to the automatic doors. They slid open.
"Run," Emma hissed.
We bolted.
I heard the nurse call out behind us—"Wait! I need your names!"—but we were already sprinting across the parking lot.
Mathias had the car running. Emma yanked open the back door and shoved me inside, diving in after me. Mathias hit the gas before she even got the door closed.
We peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
"Oh my God," I gasped. "Did we just—"
"Ditch and dash!" Mathias whooped, slapping the steering wheel. "Classic!"
Emma was laughing—actually laughing. "Did you see that nurse's face? She was so confused!"
"You guys are insane," Rafael muttered, but I could see the hint of a smile on his face.
"Insane but effective," Mathias said, taking a sharp turn. "Your uncle gets medical attention, we don't get questioned by cops. Win-win."
I should have felt guilty. Should have felt bad about abandoning Uncle Martin like that.
But instead, I felt... lighter.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat. Then another. Before I knew it, I was laughing so hard my bruised throat ached.
"There she is," Emma grinned, hugging me. "I knew you had it in you."
"That was the worst acting I've ever done," I managed between laughs.
"Are you kidding? Those tears were perfect!" Emma was still giggling. "I almost believed you were actually concerned about him."
"I can't believe we just did that," I said, wiping my eyes. "We just committed, like, a crime or something."
"Eh, minor crime," Mathias waved it off. "They got a patient. We got away clean. Everyone's happy."
"Except the nurse who has to file a report with no witnesses," Rafael added dryly.
That set us off again. Even Rafael was smiling now, shaking his head at all of us.
As the hospital disappeared behind us and we drove through the dark streets, I realized something.
For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.
My uncle was getting help. I was safe. And I was with people who actually cared about me.
People who were probably werewolves, a voice in my head reminded me.
But even that didn't scare me as much as it should have.
Because whatever they were, they'd saved me tonight.
And right now, that was enough.