Chapter 5 - THE MOTHER WHO HAD TWO GRAVES
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Dashiell replayed the video.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Elena Garcia remained there every time.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
“That's her,” Bianca whispered.
Tomas sat down hard against the side of the SUV.
Dashiell looked at him.
“You said she died.”
“I watched her stop breathing.”
“So did I.”
Dashiell's voice became dangerous.
“I held her hand.”
Tomas looked genuinely destroyed.
“I buried her.”
“Apparently this family has a problem with funerals.”
Kiara expected Dashiell to shout.
He did not.
His anger was colder than that.
More frightening.
He turned to Tomas.
“You first.”
“What?”
“You faked your death. Now Mom's alive.”
“I did not know.”
“Bianca?”
She shook her head violently.
“No. I swear.”
Dashiell looked at Owen.
“No.”
Then his eyes moved to Kiara.
She understood.
He no longer knew who could be trusted.
Not even his own memories.
Kiara stepped closer.
“The video may be real, but that doesn't mean Lucian has had her for six years.”
Dashiell looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
“Your mother was sick when you buried her?”
“Cancer.”
“What kind?”
Bianca answered.
“Acute leukemia.”
“Who diagnosed her?”
No one knew.
Kiara looked at Tomas.
“Hospital?”
“Private physician.”
“Name?”
Tomas's face changed.
“Dr. Adrian Vale.”
Lucian's uncle.
There it was.
Dashiell closed his eyes.
“They poisoned her.”
“Maybe,” Kiara said. “Or drugged her.”
Tomas stood.
“Elena's death certificate was signed by Vale.”
Owen swore.
Bianca whispered, “We buried an empty coffin?”
“No,” Dashiell said.
“I saw her body.”
Tomas frowned.
“So did I.”
Kiara thought through it.
“Then maybe she was clinically dead.”
Dashiell looked at her.
“There are drugs that can slow heart function. Lower body temperature. Mimic death under poor monitoring.”
Tomas's face became hard.
“Lucian took her after burial.”
The possibility was monstrous.
But believable.
Especially in a family where apparently everyone had secret tunnels, fake deaths, and blood archives.
Dashiell started the SUV.
“We're going to the clinic.”
No one argued.
The abandoned medical center sat forty miles south of Seattle behind a wall of dead cedar trees.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Dashiell drove.
Tomas sat beside him.
Kiara, Bianca, and Owen occupied the back.
Nobody discussed the photograph in Kiara's coat.
Nobody discussed the chosen bond.
There were more immediate horrors.
Owen had spent the entire drive staring at Sophie's frozen face on his phone.
When they reached the access road, Dashiell stopped two hundred yards away.
“No lights.”
Bianca checked her pistol.
“Owen and I take east.”
Tomas nodded.
“I'll take west.”
Dashiell looked at Kiara.
“You stay with me.”
She almost argued on principle.
Then decided this was not the time.
They approached through trees.
Kiara heard guards before seeing them.
Two near the loading bay.
One on the roof.
Another smoking beside the generator.
She whispered the positions.
Dashiell studied her.
“You can hear that far?”
“Apparently I have upgraded.”
He almost smiled.
“Useful upgrade.”
“Still waiting for claws.”
“Trust me. They're overrated.”
They moved.
Dashiell was terrifyingly efficient.
No wasted motion.
No dramatic growling.
One guard unconscious.
Then another.
Bianca handled the generator guard.
Tomas disappeared into the west wing.
Owen found an unlocked service entrance.
Inside, the clinic smelled like disinfectant.
And wolves.
Dozens of them.
Kiara pressed her fingers to the wall.
A memory not her own rushed through her.
Rosa walking this corridor years earlier.
Carrying a baby.
Kiara.
“This place wasn't always Lucian's.”
Dashiell looked at her.
“What?”
“My grandmother came here.”
“Can you see where she went?”
Kiara closed her eyes.
A door.
Blue tile.
Elevator.
Basement.
“This way.”
They descended.
At the bottom, Kiara heard crying.
Owen heard it too.
“Sophie.”
He ran.
Dashiell grabbed him.
“Trap.”
“I don't care.”
“Your daughter will care if you die ten feet from her.”
Owen stopped.
Dashiell signaled Bianca.
They approached from two sides.
The room was empty except for a chair.
A phone sat on it.
Sophie's crying came through the speaker.
Recorded.
Owen broke.
He punched the wall until his knuckles bled.
Kiara's heart hurt for him.
Then Dashiell noticed the blood.
“Owen.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
Too late.
Owen's blood ran across an engraved symbol on the wall.
The symbol lit red.
Doors slammed shut.
Gas vents opened.
Bianca shouted.
“Again?”
Lucian's voice filled the room.
“You Garcias really should learn not to bleed on things.”
Dashiell looked up.
“Show yourself.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
A screen turned on.
Lucian sat in an elegant room.
Elena beside him.
Sophie on the other side.
Both restrained.
Lucian smiled.
“Kiara.”
She stepped into view.
“Let them go.”
“Eventually.”
“You don't need them.”
“I needed leverage.”
“You have it.”
Dashiell turned to her.
“No.”
Lucian laughed.
“This is why I always liked you, Dashiell.”
“Feeling isn't mutual.”
“You think protecting her makes you noble.”
Lucian leaned toward the camera.
“Elena thought the same thing.”
Dashiell's expression changed.
His mother looked toward him.
“Don't listen.”
Lucian struck her.
Not hard.
But enough.
Dashiell's wolf surged beneath his skin.
His hands became claws.
Kiara grabbed his arm.
“That's what he wants.”
Lucian smiled wider.
“Smart girl.”
Kiara forced herself to remain calm.
“You want a bond.”
“I want order.”
“You want obedience.”
“Same thing when done properly.”
“No.”
The word left Kiara with unexpected force.
Every wolf in the room froze.
Dashiell.
Bianca.
Owen.
Even Tomas, who had just entered behind them.
Kiara felt something move through the air.
An invisible pressure.
Lucian's smile disappeared.
There it was.
The Crownline.
Kiara had not commanded anyone intentionally.
But every wolf had heard it.
Tomas whispered, “She's waking.”
Kiara looked at her hands.
Lucian's expression transformed from amusement into hunger.
“Beautiful.”
She hated the way he said it.
“Bring her to me,” he ordered.
Dashiell looked at the screen.
“No.”
“You don't have much choice.”
Lucian displayed another camera.
Seven safe houses.
Seven groups of frightened families.
Explosives strapped to structural supports.
“Midnight.”
Tomas stared.
“You'll kill children.”
“I'll kill hundreds if it prevents the old world from surviving.”
Kiara stepped closer to the camera.
“What happens at midnight?”
Lucian smiled.
“The Crown Moon reaches its highest point.”
She looked at Tomas.
He looked sick.
Lucian answered for him.
“Your blood will accept a king.”
“I don't accept you.”
“You misunderstand.”
His smile returned.
“Acceptance was Rosa's invention.”
Dashiell's eyes went silver.
“Touch her and I'll tear you apart.”
Lucian ignored him.
“Old Crown law requires only blood, witness, and Warden surrender.”
Kiara went cold.
“Warden surrender?”
Lucian looked at Dashiell.
“His death.”
Silence.
Dashiell stared at the screen.
Lucian leaned back.
“If the Warden dies before the Crown chooses freely, resistance ends.”
Tomas swore.
Kiara's heartbeat pounded.
Lucian continued.
“That's why Elena hid you from him.”
Kiara looked at Dashiell.
He had gone very still.
“Because the moment Kiara awakened,” Lucian said, “you became the only man whose existence could stop me.”
The screen switched off.
The gas stopped.
The doors opened.
Too easily.
Dashiell understood first.
“He wants us to leave.”
Tomas nodded.
“He wants you scared.”
“No.”
Kiara stared toward the dark hallway.
“He wants Dashiell exposed.”
A shot cracked.
Dashiell jerked.
Kiara saw the impact under his ribs.
“Dashiell!”
He fell against the wall.
Bianca fired into the darkness.
Tomas dragged Dashiell down.
Kiara dropped beside him.
Blood soaked through his shirt.
Too dark.
Too fast.
Then she smelled something sharp and metallic.
Silver.
Tomas looked at the wound.
His face went white.
“Silver nitrate.”
Kiara pressed both hands against Dashiell's side.
His eyes found hers.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Whatever your blood is trying to do.”
The mark on her wrist had begun glowing.
Dashiell knew.
So did Tomas.
Kiara felt power moving through her palms.
Tomas whispered:
“If she uses the Crown to save him, the awakening becomes permanent.”
Dashiell gripped Kiara's wrist.
“No.”
His hand was weakening.
Kiara looked down at him.
For the first time since she'd met him, Dashiell Garcia looked mortal.
And terrified.
Not of dying.
Of what saving him might do to her.
He forced out three words.
“Let me go.”
May you like
Kiara's eyes filled.
Then his heart stopped.
