91

For a moment, I convinced myself I was at home with my Grandma. The smell of soup filled the air, thick with garlic, thyme, and oregano. The rich tomato aroma wrapped around me, evoking a sense of comfort and security. My Grandma’s humming drifted from the kitchen into the living room, where I lay on the couch. The lingering heat of the California air warmed my skin, soothing my aching muscles.
When I finally mustered the strength to open my eyes, I realized how wrong I was. I wasn’t in California, and my Grandma was dead. The peaceful humming was coming from an old woman, her hair white as snow. She stood in the kitchen, stirring something in a large iron pot. The warmth dancing along my skin came from a crackling fire just a few feet in front of me.
Horror washed over me as I remembered that I had been found naked, now dressed in a long nightgown with a thick quilt smelling of lavender and herbs placed over me. I watched in stunned silence as the old woman ladled soup into a large bowl, her delicate humming filling the house.
The woman glanced my way, a smile forming on her face as she approached with the soup. Her eyes held the same kindness my Grandma’s used to, but that was the only similarity between them. Grandma had been frail, her limbs thin and weak. This woman was old but strong, moving effortlessly with straight yet relaxed posture. Her snow-colored hair flowed down her back in waves.
“Eat this, dear. It’ll make you feel better,” the woman murmured, setting the steaming bowl of soup in front of me. She sat in an armchair, watching me with expectant eyes.
“Silver?” I called out, but was greeted by darkness.
“Your wolf will be back, child,” the woman nodded serenely. “Wolfsbane, nasty business. Try the soup, it’s minestrone.”
As much as I wanted to resist, the kindness in her eyes and the growling of my stomach overwhelmed me. Tentatively, I spooned at the soup. Carrots, celery, and onion floated around in the bowl. As I brought the spoon to my lips, the old woman grinned happily.
“Is it good?” she asked with bright eyes. “My son always says it’s too salty. What’s a good soup without a little salt?”
“It’s good,” I nodded, surprised at how strong my voice sounded. “It’s not salty at all.”
“Well, thank you, dear,” she grinned, turning her head toward the dark hallway and calling out, “See! She doesn’t think it’s too salty.”
“Trusting her already?” a deep voice scoffed.
An older gentleman stepped into the light, around thirty years old. His dark hair had streaks of light gray. His eyes narrowed on me suspiciously, and I resisted the urge to sink into the plush sofa. His build was large, tension rippling from him in waves.
“Don’t go frightening the girl, Pedro,” the old woman spat, waving at the man with a deep sigh. “Ignore my son, he’s spent too many years battling his own paranoia. You can call me Marcella.”
“I’m Sophia,” I replied, giving Pedro one last glance before eating another spoonful of soup.
“Beautiful name,” Marcella murmured appreciatively. “Now, why don’t you tell us about your first shift. The first is always the worst.”
“My first shift?” I gulped, my eyes widening as I looked between the mother and son. Understanding crossed Marcella’s eyes as she read the panic on my face.
“Ah, I see,” Marcella nodded, casting a frown at her son who loomed in the hallway. “You haven’t known about your heritage for long, have you? If you did, you would’ve sniffed us out.”
“You’re both werewolves?” I asked, surprise laced in my tone. “I haven’t known for long. It came as a… surprise.”
“An unwelcome one at that, I assume,” Marcella frowned, sympathy burning in her eyes. “It couldn’t have been easy. Living your life as a human only to find out you’re the daughter of an Alpha, and a white wolf at that.”
“A white wolf?” I frowned. “What does the color of my wolf have to do with anything?”
“She’s absolutely clueless,” Pedro scoffed, shaking his head. “I give her a week.”
“Quiet, you’ll frighten the poor girl,” Marcella snapped, then turned her attention to me. “White wolves are exceedingly rare, child. That’s how you found me. I’m the last white wolf in over five hundred years.”
“I found you because you’re a white wolf?”
“Like calls to like, Sophia,” Marcella nodded. “I’ve been in hiding for quite some time. White wolves are coveted for their abilities. They appear when the world is in need of them. There is no telling when or where they will show up.”
“Abilities?” I sighed, exhaustion weighing my limbs down. “I thought I had enough to worry about. I never wanted to be a werewolf, let alone one with abilities.”
“Power is often given to those who do not want it. It’s best you learn what you’re capable of,” Marcella replied, her face quickly turning serious. “Just because you reject your heritage does not mean those who covet you will simply stop. Accept the life you’ve been given, Sophia. Learn to defend yourself.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I scoffed. “I ran to get away from all of this. Now I’m back where I started.”
“I disagree,” Marcella mused. “I think you’ve made an improvement. You enjoyed shifting, yes? It was liberating, wasn’t it?”
“It was incredible,” I confessed, feeling Silver stir in my mind. “I’ve never felt so free, so strong.”
“You have more strength than you think, Sophia,” Marcella smiled, standing from the armchair. “Follow me.”
With one last wary glance toward Pedro, I followed Marcella out the back door. I cringed against the harsh sunlight, wondering how long I had been unconscious. As my eyes adjusted, I looked on in wonder at Marcella’s backyard. I had thought the forest at night was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to this.
Her backyard consisted of rolling hills, plush trees with drooping canopies, and rows upon rows of wildflowers. Rose bushes grew in clusters, unlike anything I had ever seen. Sunflowers, daisies, gardenias, and flowers I had never seen before sprawled out along the earth. The grass was a brilliant shade of emerald. A small stream cut through the earth, its water clear and bright.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, my eyes wide with wonder.
My eyes grazed every vibrant petal, every crisp leaf, and every blade of grass. This small patch of earth was like a personal heaven, a private glade for Marcella and her brooding son.
“This, Sophia, is my ability,” Marcella beamed at the small slice of heaven, pride shining in her eyes.
“Flowers are your ability?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away.
“Not flowers,” Marcella chuckled, motioning for me to follow her.
We hopped over the thin stream and continued through the plush grass. Marcella held back some of the flowers for me, treading carefully through them. We approached a bushel of tulips, and I frowned as I realized they had not yet bloomed. Everything else in this glade was thriving, but the tulips seemed to be far behind.
“Watch,” Marcella murmured, cupping the tulips with her withered hands.
The air around Marcella turned warm, a gentle breeze ruffling the nightgown I wore. I watched in silent amazement as the tulips bloomed, the fragile petals opening for her.
“My ability is nature itself,” Marcella said with pride, looking at the plants and trees as though they were her children. “Tell me, child. Do your mates know you’re a white wolf?”
“How did you know?” I asked, flinching as I wondered what Ethan and Kieran might think of my whereabouts. Silver had said they were close. Were they still looking for me? Would they simply grow tired of this game of cat and mouse?
‘They will never stop looking for us, Sophia,’ Silver murmured. ‘They’ll search the ends of the earth until they find us.’
“I see your wolf is awake,” Marcella chuckled. “To answer your question, white wolves have sharper instincts than your average werewolf. Sometimes we can tell who someone’s mate is before they come of age. Other times we simply get small bits of information.”
“No, they don’t know,” I frowned. “I ran away before they could find out.”
“Does anyone else know?” Marcella asked, turning her full attention to me. I resisted the urge to squirm under her gaze, but I couldn’t hide the nervous frown on my lips.
“Yes, these men tried to kidnap me. I think they were wolves, but they smelled… different.” I shook my head, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. “They watched me shift. They know what I am.”
“Then you must proceed very carefully,” Marcella murmured. “You are lucky to have two mates to protect you. My mate died when I was very young, as did my parents. I was left to fend for myself.”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, and I truly was. I wasn’t sure I loved Ethan and Kieran, but the thought of them dying twisted my insides painfully.
“Don’t fight your mates, Sophia,” Marcella said softly, gently patting my cheek. “They will choose you over anything-over anyone. That kind of bond is important; it could save your life someday.”
My heart ached under her touch, a motherly touch I had been denied for so long. I couldn’t help but wish my mom was more like Marcella, that she had loved me and cared for me when I needed it most. Instead, she left me alone, to fend for myself and discover the world for what it truly was: cruel and cold.
“How could they ever forgive me?” I chuckled, though my laugh quickly turned into a dry sob. “I ran away from them. They should hate me.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons for leaving, no matter what they might be,” Marcella replied. “Tell them your reasons, Sophia. They will forgive you; I promise.”
“I’ll try,” I breathed, finally beginning to understand that I couldn’t run from this. I couldn’t run from who-what-I was.
“Speaking of your mates, I suspect they will be arriving shortly,” Marcella murmured, her eyes roaming the forest along her house. “I sent Pedro to cover up your scent, though I believe your mates have quickly figured out how to track you through the bond. Highly unusual, you know, having twins as mates.”
“Tell me about it,” I chuckled dryly, wrapping my arms around my torso as my heart rate skyrocketed. Excitement danced along my skin, raising goosebumps and igniting a fire in my stomach. I hadn’t let myself accept how much I truly missed the twins, and I still refused to think of Kat.
“I am sympathetic. Men are difficult to deal with,” Marcella grinned, looking half her age. “Though it means more protection for you.”
“You could come with us,” I offered, desperately hoping she would say yes. My stomach dropped as her eyes softened. “I don’t have anyone else, not really anyway. Lauren-my mom-stopped caring a long time ago, and my father only wants me so that I can take over his pack.”
“Visit me as often as you can, child,” Marcella smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “But please, tell no one of this place or what I am. I have remained in hiding for so long, I’m afraid I have no place in this world anymore.”
“You’ll always have a place in my pack, Marcella,” I murmured, speaking the words as Silver whispered them in my mind. While the words felt foreign on my tongue, they also felt right.
“Thank you for that, Luna Sophia,” Marcella beamed, and I couldn’t help but return the gesture.
The two of us headed inside where I finished the remainder of my soup. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt this happy, this at ease with what and who I was. That feeling only lasted so long as I realized I wouldn’t be showing up at the bakery today. I wondered what Bia might think, and hoped Ethan and Kieran would let me visit her one last time.
I grew more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. As a hard knock sounded on the front door, I was on my feet in an instant. Their scents hit my nose within seconds, nearly sending me to my knees.
‘They’re here,’ Silver murmured joyously. ‘They’re actually here.’
“She’s here, Alphas,” Marcella responded kindly. “You may come inside.”
Their footsteps echoed through the house, and for a moment, I wondered if the soup I ate would make a reappearance. Just as I contemplated fleeing through the back door, Ethan and Kieran stepped into the room.