Chapter 116

Lauren

The sun cast long streaks of light across the worn wooden floors, painting golden lines through the dust that hung in the air. It should have felt warm, welcoming even, but the sunlight only seemed to highlight the tension stretching between me and Gingi like a taut wire, ready to snap.

It had been a week since she started watching my family—watching me—far too closely.

Granted, most of her focus was on Mark, but she didn’t hesitate to question the kids about their half-transformations, take blood samples, and make full use of my research lab in Alexander’s manor.

She had certainly made herself at home. And the longer she stayed, the more frustrated I became.

Gingi had always been cold, but I thought that staying under my roof might thaw her, even just a little. That maybe, at some point, she’d crack a joke, reminisce about our student days, laugh. But no—she was distant, calculated, moving through my home like she was on a mission.

Because she was.

The Alpha King must have been more intimidated than I thought if he sent her to be this thorough.

And now, she wanted to talk.

Maybe all her nosy behavior had actually led to something.

Despite my annoyance—my foot tapping impatiently against the wood—I was eager to hear her out.

She sat across from me, posture straight, her sharp eyes surveying the papers infront of her, though she wasn’t really looking at anything—her expression carved from stone. Her long sunny locks curled in wisps over her cheeks, a flower Mark had picked for her this morning still tucked in her ear.

I exhaled, my fingers tapping against my knee as I stole a glance toward the garden, where Mark sat cross-legged in the dirt. He wasn’t alone. Abigail and Owen flanked him, whispering to each other while Gingi’s keen gaze flickered over their movements.

She was studying them, the way she did everything—like a scientist examining a specimen, detached but deeply perceptive.

Mark had barely acknowledged her when she arrived, but that wasn’t surprising. He barely acknowledged anyone. His silence was as much a part of him as his own skin. Then Mark looked up, seeing us through the window.

He smiled, and waved with a goofy grin before Abigail tackled him.

For a moment, I swore I saw something crack through her usual impassiveness—a flicker of confusion, of something deeper she hadn’t anticipated, her hand moving to the flower on her ear.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came.

"Interesting," she murmured.

I crossed my arms. “You don’t sound particularly thrilled.”

She gave me a sidelong glance before setting the flower on the table between us. “It’s not about being thrilled, Lauren. It’s about understanding what we’re looking at.”

I bristled at that. “He’s not something to study, Gingi. He’s my family.”

Something flickered in her eyes again. Not guilt, but something close to it. “I know,” she said quietly. “That’s why I came, to help you and you’re family.”

I didn’t respond. I just watched as the kids continued to make mud pies in the dirt, Abigail’s animated gestures contrasting with Owen’s more serious nods. Mark sat between them, his face unreadable as always, but he listened. He always listened. And that was something.

I was just happy he seemed to fit right in, especially with Owen. Those two, I found them reading a lot together, playing video games. They both had more of a gentle aura, often sitting in silence for hours, yet together.

I shifted in my seat. “So,” I pressed, my chin resting to my fist. “What did you find since you’re so eager to help.”

Ging sighed, leaning back against her chair. “Well, it’s not just the isolation of being locked up that has led to his social limitations. Luckily, he’s not aggressive, but he’s not just traumatized, Lauren.”

I met her gaze, trying not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. The curse of men in my bloodline is fucked thanks to our Moon misandrist. Get to the point.”

Gingi hesitated, her fingers tapping absently against the tabletop before she exhaled, shoulders tightening. “Well, he’s making progress, which is good. He is indeed an abomination—”

“Don’t.” I hissed and she raised a hand.

“Simply medical term. He is a good person, kind, thoughtful. Though his desease is far more severe then Owen’s ever was, far past crucial development years and lacking Alexander’s blood to counter the curse like Owen.”

I rolled my eyes, “I know all this.”

“I’m not done,” she cut in. “I did find something interesting. But it’s just a theory.”

A pit formed in my stomach. “What?”

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “The first wolves—before packs, before Alphas, before structure and transformation—they were said to communicate beyond words. A different kind of connection. One that bypassed language altogether.”

My mind immediately flickered to Owen. The way he had always seemed to understand Mark in ways the rest of us didn’t. The way Mark responded to him in ways he never did to anyone else.

I shook my head. “You think Mark can do this? Communication without speech? Like, what telepathy? Come on, Gingi, you sound crazy.”

Gingi shrugged. “And it’s possible Owen can, too. They might not even realize it, I didn’t either until Mark said one word to me, and I realized he didn’t actually ‘say it.’ I just saw his mouth, but the word was more so appearing in my head.”

My fingers clenched around the fabric of my sleeve. “So the curse—”

“It’s not just a disability,” Gingi finished for me. “It could be a remnant of something long thought extinct, a wild, different type of brain pattern. But when I asked them, neither gave a solid answer.”

I sucked in a slow breath, my mind reeling. “And how do you know about this theory?”

Gingi hesitated before letting out a sigh. “Dr. Belsing,” she began flatly. “We may communicate with sign, but there are times when he speaks directly into my mind. He’s very old… nearly ancient, even by the standards of The King Alpha line. He witnessed the shift—from wolves to humans. It’s complicated. But that kind of communication, it’s what our ancestors used, long before we could speak with our lips. Back when the earth was still young, and we hunted on all fours.”

My hand met my forehead, rubbing it hard. Ancient this, goddess that, was nothing simple anymore?

“So, why,” I growled low. “Does this even matter? What does it have to do with anything going on? The Rouges, inpending war.”

Gingi’s eyes panned over to the garden, icy on Mark and the kids. “I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. I’m only telling you what I found out, my theories. Besides, sometimes it’s not about the big picture, it’s about understanding. Don’t you want to know more about you’re family?”

I looked back toward the garden. Mark was still sitting in the dirt, but Owen had shifted closer, their eyes meeting. Mark turned his head ever so slightly, listening.

No words passed between them.

But still, something was being said.

That night, the unease clung to me like a cold rain shower. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness pressing in. I had too many questions, too many thoughts buzzing in my mind like an unrelenting swarm.

So, I did the only thing I could.

I sought the Moon Goddess. Again, already preparing for her annoying run around.

Sleep came quickly, and when it did, I found myself standing in a vast, endless expanse of silver mist. The sky above shimmered with an unnatural glow, the stars impossibly bright.

And then she was there.

The Moon Goddess.

She stood at the edge of the mist, her form shifting, never quite solid, never quite touchable. Her face was unreadable, her presence ancient and indifferent.

I swallowed hard, stepping closer. “I need answers.”

She didn’t move. “You always do.”

Frustration flared in my chest. “Gingi told me something today. Something about the first wolves, about an old connection that goes beyond words. Is that what’s happening to Mark? My son? Does that have anything to do with you’re bloodline or whatever?”

The Goddess tilted her head, considering me. “You assume I care for these men?”

Her words hit me like ice.

I stiffened. “Look, Lady, if you didn’t want sons, you should’ve— I don’t know—used your magic to make it so you could only bear daughters in your line or something! Whether you like it or not, Owen and Mark are just as much yours as Abigail and me. And you screwed them over in life for nothing.”

“First, watch you’re tone.”

The air around me cracked like ice and I sighed, taking a step back as her fur lost its bristle. “I created balance,” she corrected. “There is always byproduct.”

I clenched my fists. “Then tell me this—if the ‘curse’ isn’t just a curse, then what is it?”

The Goddess exhaled, and the mist around us shifted, swirling like the tides of an unseen ocean. “You think in absolutes. A curse. A gift. A burden. A blessing. But reality does not work in such simple terms. Some of us are better adapt for being just wolves than humans.”

I swallowed. “Explain.”

For the first time, something almost like amusement flickered across her expression. “Think of yin and yang. Balance. If something is missing in one, where must it be? Or maybe it simply never was.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, a sudden lump forming in my throat.

God, I was sick of riddles.

And the Goddess knew it.

She stepped back, the mist beginning to swallow her whole. “You seek truth, but truth is not so easily given.”

“Then at least tell me what’s missing,” I pleaded.

But she was already fading. “That, Lauren, is for you to find.”

And just like that, I woke up, gasping for air, more confused than ever.

My hands dragged down my face.

Why couldn’t we just stick to science?