Chapter 6: Shaows

Seraphine’s POV

I woke before the sun, my heart already pounding in my chest.

The room was quiet, save for the faint murmur of voices drifting through the closed door. I recognized one immediately—Lucien’s deep, commanding tone, steady even in casual conversation. Ryder’s lighter voice answered, though I couldn’t make out the words.

I stayed still, listening.

“I’m ready,” Lucien said after a moment, his voice firm. “We’ll deal with this quickly and return by dusk.”

It was time.

I had spent the night ensuring that Lucien was too distracted to notice anything amiss.

I’d cooked for him, doted on him, and given him the kind of s*x that left us both breathless and tangled in each other. It wasn’t just to show affection—it was a strategy.

I needed him to trust me completely.

He wouldn’t suspect a thing, even if he come back from hunting and find out that someone has been to the attic, I thought as I lay there, waiting for him to leave.

When I finally heard the sound of boots in the hallway and the faint creak of the front door, I moved to the window. From there, I watched as Lucien and his hunters gathered in the clearing, their dark forms blending into the forest as they slipped away.

The second they disappeared into the woods, I sprang into action.

Slipping into a soft pair of boots and pulling my hair back, I headed for Lucien’s office. My pulse raced as I turned the corner into the quiet hallway, but I kept my steps light and my breathing steady.

Once inside the office, I closed the door behind me. The room smelled faintly of him—woodsy and clean, like pine and smoke. His desk sat in the middle of the room, imposing and meticulously organized.

I knew exactly where I needed to go.

The chest in the corner.

It was heavy and locked tight, but I had seen Lucien open it enough times to know where he kept the key.

Dropping to my knees, I fumbled with the lock, pulling the small key I’d stolen from his drawer out of my pocket. My hands trembled slightly as I pushed it into the keyhole, but it didn’t budge.

“What?” I whispered, frowning. I tried again, twisting it harder this time. Still, nothing.

Frustration bubbled in my chest. Had he changed the lock?

I leaned back, my gaze falling on the intricate design of the keyhole. It wasn’t an ordinary shape. It had sharp, angular lines—a symbol I recognized.

The crest.

Lucien had given me a pendant bearing the same symbol during our mating ceremony. It was tucked safely beneath my shirt, hanging from a delicate chain around my neck.

I pulled it out, holding it in my palm as realization dawned on me.

“Of course,” I murmured, lifting the pendant to the lock.

The shape was a perfect fit. I slid the pendant into the slot, twisting it gently until I heard a soft click.

The lid creaked open, revealing the contents inside. My breath caught as I stared down at the documents inside and the key to the attic

Old documents, faded with age, lay in neat stacks. There were maps, journals, and a box filled with trinkets that glimmered faintly in the dim light. I reached for the nearest journal, my fingers brushing over the attic keys.

Before I could open it, a sound made me freeze.

A faint creak—like the floorboards were shifting

I whipped around, my heart pounding. The room was silent.

“Get it together, Seraphine,” I whispered to myself, shaking off the unease as I kenw at this point I was just so tensed.

I turned back to the chest, pulling out the journal and flipping it open. The writing was faded but still legible. Lucien’s name appeared in the first line, scrawled in elegant script.

But as I read on, the words sent a chill down my spine.

“Forbidden… dangerous… consequences…”

I shut the book, my mind racing. Whatever this was, Lucien had kept it hidden for a reason.

I gathered as much as I could, slipping a few papers, a smaller journal and the attic key into my bag. I closed the chest, locking it with the pendant once more before hurrying out of the office.

My hands trembled as I made my way back to our room, slipping inside just as quietly as I had left. I stashed the bag beneath the bed, my heart still racing.

The journals and document would have to wait.

For now, I needed to focus on what I had planned—the attic.

*******

As I climbed the narrow staircase, the old wood shook beneath my feet. I reached the attic door and hesitated for a moment, my heart beating fast.

“This is a bad idea,” I whispered to myself.

Still, I pushed the door open. Dust was in the air, and the scent of aged wood filled the room.

My gaze swept over the piles of old books and artifacts. They all looked ancient, covered in thick layers of dust. I took a step forward, brushing away cobwebs as I walked slowly around the attic.

“This place is like stepping into another time,” I murmured, glancing at the faded paintings stacked in a corner.

 Why do I still have a feeling I will find answers here?

Then, I saw I saw something—a wooden chest tucked under a slanted beam. On top of it sat a journal, its dark cover worn and weathered. I froze, my breath hitching. It felt like the journal had been waiting for me, calling out silently.

Slowly, I moved toward it. My hands trembled as I picked it up.

Carefully, I opened it, flipping to the pages. "This could be useful, I whispered.

The entries in this journal were so detailed on old alliances and betrayals.

The writings talked about a pack fueled by greed and fear, willing to destroy anyone who stood in their way. I flipped through the pages until my eyes landed on another entry dated just after my parents' deaths.

It read:

"With the Blood Crest Alpha gone, the future is secured. But the child… she remains a threat if she ever learns the truth. Measures must be taken."

I froze. The words seemed to leap off the page and wrap themselves around my throat.

“‘The child?’ That’s… me?,” I whispered. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Setting the journal aside, I knelt by the chest it had been resting on. I hesitated for only a moment before lifting the lid. Inside, I found a collection of faded letters and maps, their edges brittle with age.

My fingers carefully unfolded one of the letters, and my breath hitched as I read:

"The Blood Crest must not rise again. The rogue attack must look authentic, but their fall must be swift. No survivors among the elders."

"What?!" I yelled, but I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth, afraid someone might hear me.

Tears pricked my eyes as I unfolded another letter. This one was addressed directly to Lucien. Though unsigned, the words made my stomach twist:

"We trust in your loyalty to the pack. Do not waver. The girl must never know the truth of her lineage."

I clenched the paper so tightly it crumpled in my hands.

I froze, the weight of this words sinking in.

“So He fucking knew!!”