Calvin’s POV
It took almost three days, but I finally made it back to the witch’s cabin in the Silver Pines.
The journey had been long and grueling, but exhaustion was the last thing on my mind.
Sherelle.
That single name had haunted me the entire trip.
Now, as I approached the familiar cabin, something felt… off.
The familiar scent of dried herbs and incense still hung in the air, yet the atmosphere was wrong. There was a stillness-an eerie silence that hadn’t been there before. The first time I came here, the witch had been waiting for me, already standing at the door before I even knocked. Almost like she knew I would show up.
This time?
Nothing.
The door remained shut. The windows were dark. There was no sign of life inside.
A bad feeling settled in my stomach.
I knocked once. Hard. “It’s me. Calvin.”
Silence.
I knocked again, louder this time. “Open the door.”
Still nothing.
I tried the handle. Locked.
“Something’s wrong,” Fenrir rumbled, his presence tense in the back of my mind.
I gritted my teeth, pounding my fist against the door. “Damn it, open up!”
Nothing.
Then-
A sound.
Faint. Weak.
“Help…”
I froze.
The voice was coming from inside.
A sharp chill ran through me.
“Shit.”
I threw myself at the door, slamming my shoulder against the wood.
It didn’t budge.
Again.
I rammed into it harder, ignoring the pain in my arm.
The door held firm.
“Move!” Fenrir snarled.
I took a step back, gathered all my strength, and launched myself forward with full force.
With a violent crack, the door burst open, the hinges giving way as I stumbled inside-
And froze.
Blood.
The witch lay on the floor, her body limp, her robes soaked in red.
A gaping hole-the size of a fist-was torn through her stomach.
Blood pooled beneath her, spreading across the wooden floor in dark, sickening waves.
Her chest rose and fell weakly, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. She was dying.
“No, no, no…” My pulse roared in my ears as I rushed to her side.
Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth.
“Alpha…”
I dropped to my knees beside her, panic surging through me.
“What happened? Who did this to you?!” My voice came out sharp, frantic.
Her fingers twitched, her arm barely lifting off the floor.
I scanned the room, my mind racing.
“Stay with me,” I urged, my voice tight with urgency. “Try to stay conscious.”
She coughed, more blood spilling past her lips.
I turned, looking for something-anything-to stop the bleeding.
“Hold on, I’ll-”
But before I could move, her bloody hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
Her grip was weak. Barely there. But insistent.
“No… listen…”
“Don’t talk, you need to save your strength-”
“I don’t have… strength left,” she rasped.
Her nails dug feebly into my skin, her fingers shaking violently.
“Sherelle… left a message…”
I stilled.
The air in the cabin suddenly felt too thin.
“What?”
“I have to tell you…” Her voice wavered, her body shuddering.
Her words confirmed everything. The room blurred, my mind locking onto the single truth I had been dreading.
Sherelle was alive. And she had sent a message.
My chest tightened with a mix of shock, horror, and something I couldn’t name.
“Did she do this to you?” My voice was hoarse, almost afraid of the answer.
The witch let out a weak, breathless chuckle. “Maybe this is… just me paying for my sins…”
“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.
She coughed violently, her body convulsing slightly before she exhaled shakily. “No time…”
Her bloody hand reached toward the center of the room, fingers trembling.
I followed her gaze.
And then I saw it.
A phone.
Sitting on the table.
Untouched.
Waiting, almost deliberately placed there.
“Sherelle left a message… for you…” The witch’s voice was barely a whisper now.
My breath slowed.
The cabin suddenly felt colder.
Sherelle had left a message.
And I was about to hear it.
I reached for the phone with hesitation, my fingers brushing against the smooth surface.
It felt wrong.
Like I was touching something cursed.
Something that wasn’t meant to be here.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I picked it up, the screen lighting up instantly.
One file.
A video.
I swallowed hard, my thumb hovering over the play button.
For a long moment, I didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.
Because deep down, I already knew this was going to change everything.
Still, I pressed play.
The screen flickered, and then-
Sherelle.
I staggered back, my breath catching.
She was alive.
And not just alive-thriving.
She was dressed in a silky red dress, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves. Her face was flawless, her blue eyes glittering as she stared directly into the camera.
Not a single sign of pain.
Not a single trace of the horrific death I had convinced myself she had suffered.
She was sitting on a couch-the witch’s couch-her posture relaxed, a glass of wine resting in her delicate fingers.
She looked… amused.
As if she knew exactly what this would do to me.
And then she spoke.
“I have a question for you, Calvin.”
Her voice was smooth, almost playful.
“What is the value of a life to you?”
A cold chill slithered down my spine.
“Ah, but I almost forgot,” she continued, her lips curving slightly.
“You’re too shallow and self-centered to answer that, aren’t you?”
My jaw clenched.
“It’s something we both have in common.”
Her tone darkened, the amusement never quite reaching her eyes.
“Better still… how far can you go to protect the ones you care about? Do you have what it takes? Are you strong enough?”
I felt nauseous.
Because I didn’t know the answer to that.
Not anymore.
Sherelle leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, her expression mocking.
“I guess we’ll have to find out.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“I know just how much you’ve missed me,” she whispered.
Then, her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile.
“But don’t worry…”
My stomach dropped.
“We’ll be reunited soon enough, mate.”
The video cut off.
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room.
The phone slipped from my fingers, landing on the table with a dull thud.
My hands were shaking.
My breath came out unsteady.
Sherelle…
She was alive.
She had been alive this whole time.
And she had been watching, waiting. She left the message because she knew I would come here. But how?
I turned sharply to the witch, my voice urgent. “What the hell is this?”
She didn’t respond.
She didn’t move.
Her lips were slightly parted, her expression hauntingly still.
I crouched over her, shaking her. “No, no, stay with me!”
She didn’t move.
Her body was still warm, but her eyes-
They were already empty.
She was gone.
The room spun around me. I had come here for answers. And instead-
I had more questions than ever.
My chest heaved, my fingers digging into my scalp as I tried to make sense of it all.
But I couldn’t.
Because none of it made sense.
Why go through all this trouble? Why kill the witch? What the hell was she planning?
My thoughts were a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control-
Until a low, guttural growl rumbled through my mind.
“Think, Calvin!” Fenrir snapped, his voice brimming with urgency.
I clenched my fists. “I don’t-”
Then it hit me.
The video.
Her words.
“How far can you go to protect the ones you care about?”
“Do you have what it takes?”
“Are you strong enough?”
My entire body went cold.
Sherelle wasn’t coming for me.
She was coming for Kamrynn.
For the twins.
“Shit!”
I tried to mind-link Kamrynn immediately-
Only to be met with silence.
I gritted my teeth, cursing under my breath.
She had cut ties with me and the Obsidian Pack when she left.
I couldn’t reach her.
I had no way to warn her.
“We have to move.” Fenrir’s voice was low, urgent, dangerous. “Now.”
I didn’t waste another second.
I bolted out of the cabin, my heart hammering, my mind racing.
Sherelle was out there.
And she was coming for my mate.
For my children.
I had to get to Kamrynn before she did-
Before it was too late.