Chapter 15
Chapter 15:
I was trapped. The walls of my own den were closing in on me. I gave a stiff, jerky nod and fled the dining room, my lungs burning for air.
I needed a sanctuary. I bypassed the grand staircase and slipped into the west wing, pushing open the heavy oak door to Elder Maeve Wolfe’s suite.
The dark room smelled of lavender, sleeping pills, and the dry, herbal scent of ancient wolf blood. My grandmother sat in her wheelchair by the window, her cloudy eyes staring blankly at the moonlit grounds.
I knelt beside her, my hands trembling as I pulled out my phone. “Nana, I did something reckless,” I whispered, tears of sheer panic pricking my eyes. I opened the digital copy of my Mating Contract. “I bought a husband to get the house back. But Bryan is going to expose me on Friday. I don’t know what to do p>
Maeve didn’t respond at first. But then her cloudy eyes slowly drifted to the glowing screen. She didn’t look at the typed name ‘Babe Vincent.’ Instead, her frail, trembling finger reached out and traced the sharp, aggressive scrawl of Kain’s actual signature.
“Blackstone…” she breathed.
Iո𝗌𝘁𝖺𝗻t 𝗮c𝖼е𝘴𝘴 𝗼𝘯
The word was a raspy, hollow whisper, but it carried a strange, heavy resonance that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“What?” I frowned, staring at the signature.
Suddenly, her hand shot out and gripped my wrist with a strength that defied her frail frame. Her eyes snapped to mine—startlingly clear and lucid. Her Inner Wolf was awake.
“Thieves,” Maeve hissed, her voice trembling with ancient fury. “Bryan and Carolyn are thieves. They will strip your bones, little wolf p>
She reached under her thick wool shawl and pressed a heavy, antique brass key into my palm. “Wine cellar. Third rack. Off the books. Your insurance p>
Before I could ask her what ‘Blackstone’ meant, the clarity vanished from her eyes. Her chin dropped to her chest, and she was gone again, lost in the fog of her mind.
I clutched the cold brass key, my pulse racing. I left her suite and hurried down the narrow, winding stone steps into the estate’s wine cellar. The air down there was freezing, thick with the scent of damp earth, mold, and aged oak.
I counted the massive wooden racks. One, two, three.
I reached behind a row of dust-caked vintage Bordeaux. My fingers brushed the cold brick wall and found a hollowed-out alcove. I pulled out a faded velvet box.
Taking a deep breath, I inserted the brass key into the tiny lock. It clicked.
I opened the lid and gasped. Resting on the black satin was a breathtaking platinum necklace set with a massive, flawless sapphire. It wasn’t just jewelry—it was the legendary Luna’s Tear, an heirloom blessed by the Moon Goddess herself, passed down through the true Silvermoon bloodline. It was worth a fortune, and completely untraceable by Bryan’s accountants.