Chapter 38
Abigail's POV
After staying two more days at Nighthowl, I found myself unexpectedly reluctant to leave. Life here was simple to the point of feeling unreal—riding with Elodie, watching warriors spar at the edge of the training grounds, lying under the stars at night talking, without constantly calculating my next move—all of this had become a refuge I'd never realized I needed.
But I couldn't hide here forever. On the morning of my departure, Elodie practically hung off my arm, wailing dramatically, "You have to come back." She shook my arm vigorously, her lower lip jutting out high. "Promise me. Without you, my life is unbearably dull."
"I promise." I squeezed her hand, warmth blooming in my chest.
In my previous life, I'd never had anything like this—this easy friendship, these stolen moments of normalcy. Since fate had given me a second chance, I would hold tight to everything I could grasp.
The ride back to Crimson Fang felt longer than the journey out. Autumn rode beside me, uncharacteristically silent, perhaps sensing my gradually sinking mood. The closer we got to those familiar red stone walls, the heavier the air became. By the time we passed through the gates, that long-absent tension settled back onto my shoulders like an unwelcome cloak.
I found Orchid in the kitchen. She looked somewhat better than before I'd left, her complexion no longer so ashen, but her movements were still careful. The moment she saw me, she straightened abruptly, clear relief flooding her face.
"Miss," she called softly. "You're back."
"How have things been these past few days?" I asked, lowering my voice.
She instinctively glanced around first, confirming no one else was present, then stepped closer and whispered, "Very quiet. Too quiet. Since the Alpha gave his orders, the Luna hasn't left her chambers. Miss Olivia has also been... much more subdued these past two days."
"And my father?" I asked.
"Very busy. He's spent most of these days in his study, handling pack matters." Orchid hesitated, then added, "He hasn't asked about you."
Of course he hadn't. Matthew's interest in me only extended to whether I was useful to him. Now that I'd exposed Evelyn's scheme and forced him to deal with this scandal, in his eyes I was probably more of an inconvenience than anything else.
I dismissed Orchid to rest and returned to my room with Autumn, letting her help me unpack. The space felt smaller than I remembered, the walls seeming to close in, suffocating.
I sat at my desk, my gaze falling on the neatly arranged stack of letters at the bottom of the drawer—five from Nicholas, one from Elodie. My fingertips itched, wanting to pull them out and read them again. To search in the gaps between each sentence for something that probably didn't exist at all.
I was being foolish.
This was just a transaction. He'd made that clear from the start.
But I still couldn't help recalling that morning at the Nighthowl training grounds—the way his wolf had tilted his head slightly under my touch; the light in his eyes when he'd said in that almost tender tone, "You'll have your own wolf."
I shook my head forcefully, driving away these dangerous thoughts.
---
Two days later, a messenger delivered a sealed letter. I recognized the handwriting at a glance.
There are some things we need to discuss in person. Meet me at the usual place. —N
My heartbeat accelerated beyond my control. If Nicholas was specifically arranging a meeting, the matter was certainly not simple.
I told Autumn I was going riding to clear my head, and before anyone could ask more questions, I seized the opportunity to slip out of the pack. The journey to that clearing felt both long enough to make me anxious and too short to properly prepare myself. When I dismounted and tied the reins to a low branch, I realized my hands were trembling slightly.
He was already there, standing by the stream with his back to me, arms crossed. Only when he heard my footsteps did he turn around, his expression more serious than I'd ever seen.
"Nicholas." I stopped a few steps away from him. "What's happened?"
After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke. "I investigated something. About your family."
My heart plummeted. "What did you find?"
"Sit down first." He gestured toward a fallen log not far away, then sat beside me himself.
"Do you remember what I said before?" he asked. "About how you don't look like Matthew or Evelyn."
I nodded, my throat tightening.
"After that conversation, I had someone look into it." He paused, his jawline taut. "I pulled some old Crimson Fang records. Birth registrations, lineage documents, that sort of thing. Your birth record is... extremely vague. No specific date, no midwife's name, many blank spaces. It looks like someone deliberately didn't want this record scrutinized."
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"What I'm saying is," his gaze rested steadily on my face, "the first time Matthew appeared at Crimson Fang with you was before he married Evelyn. At that time, you were just an infant in swaddling clothes."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "The official story was that the two of them hadn't yet held a bonding ceremony — but you had already been born."
My breath caught. The words landed like a blow, sending a dull ringing through my skull.
With each word he spoke, the world tilted slightly.
"This means," Nicholas continued, "Evelyn isn't your birth mother. And—" his tone grew firmer, "I don't think Matthew is your birth father either."
The air suddenly thinned. "Are you certain?" My voice sounded strange and distant.
"Without a direct blood test, the level of certainty I can achieve is what I have now." He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "I had someone compare your scent markers to Matthew's. Wolves can identify blood relations by scent, especially direct relatives. If you were his bloodline, there would be some connection. But the result was—nothing. Between you and him, there's no familial scent."
I stared at him, my mind racing yet seemingly stuck at a certain point. If Matthew wasn't my father, then who was? Why would he have taken me in? Out of pity? Kindness? Given Matthew's character, both possibilities were laughable.
"Do you know who my birth parents are?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
Nicholas shook his head. "That's where the problem lies. I've searched through every record I could access and found no trace of your birth mother's name. It's as if someone deliberately erased that information. And to achieve this level of concealment..."
His brow furrowed slightly, his expression darkening. "It's beyond what an ordinary pack could accomplish. Whoever your birth parents are, they wield considerable power—enough to silence people, enough to alter records."
I felt like I was standing at the edge of a high cliff, a bottomless abyss beneath my feet. The little bit of "self" I thought I'd finally managed to piece back together began to fracture again in this moment.
"Then how should I find the truth?" I asked.
"At this point, I can only think of one person," Nicholas said. "The Matriarch."
I froze for a moment. "Harper?"
"The Temple of Luna maintains detailed bloodline records for all major pack families." He explained. "It's part of their authority as spiritual overseers—tracking bloodlines, preventing inbreeding, identifying potential leaders, guarding ancient lineages."
"If anyone knows your true identity, it's her."
The thought of approaching Harper with this question stirred in me a feeling both apprehensive and strangely reassuring. What if the truth was worse than not knowing?
"There's one more thing." Nicholas's voice pulled me back from spiraling thoughts.