Chapter 88 Jornic’s Girlfriend
Aelira’s POV
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My phone rings, displaying an unknown number. After a brief pause, I decide to answer.
“Hello, this is Aelira Sunmere.”
“Ms. Sunmere, it’s Draven Cook.” His tone is steady yet somehow disconcerting.
My breath hitching, I recognize the name. Cyrinne Wynthor’s ex–mate, the man in the wheelchair who
had given me that enigmatic photo. I glance at Daelor, who instantly steps closer.
“Mr. Cook,” I manage to say. “I wasn’t anticipating your call.”
“I believe we share a mutual concern,” Draven states, his voice carrying an underlying sharpness. “Your
brother, Jornic Sunmere–his involvement with my ex–mate during our bond.”
My heart races. So, it is true. Jornic and Cyrinne had been entangled while she was still mated to
Draven.
“My brother was misled,” I immediately defend. “Cyrinne has a knack for manipulating individuals.
She’s doing the same to Alarion at present.”
Draven’s laughter crackles coldly through the line. “Misled? That’s your perspective? Ms. Sunmere, tell me, what could your brother possibly offer that Cyrinne would find worth deceiving him for?”
The question strikes me with the force of a punch. What does Jornic possess that would attract Cyrinne? He’s not affluent or influential. As far as I know, he lacks pack connections or any unique.
abilities. I’m left momentarily speechless by the inquiry.
“I- I don’t have the answer,” I confess, my tone quieter than I had planned.
“Precisely,” Draven insists. “Your brother is insignificant within the pack hierarchy. He has no
resources, no relationships, and no authority. So why would Cyrinne jeopardize her bond with me for
him?”
My thoughts race, wrestling to find a logical reason. Jornic is merely my overly protective brother, a
werewolf living on the outskirts of society, sticking to odd jobs and leading a solitary life.
“Maybe she’s looking to hurt you,” I propose hesitantly. “Or perhaps she actually has feelings for him.”
Draven dismisses the idea with a scoff. “Cyrinne feels genuine affection for no one but herself. There
must be something more.”
The tension in his tone makes me restless. Daelor must sense my discomfort and reach for the phone.
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“I’ll take care of this,” he whispers.
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Rather than handing it over, I switch the call to speaker mode. I know I must confront this situation on my own, and having Daelor listen in fortifies my resolve.
“Mr. Cook,” I state with renewed determination, “what are you truly suggesting about my brother?”
Daelor nods in encouragement, offering subtle cues to guide me–keep my voice calm, maintain my
composure.
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Draven responds. “I’m attempting to piece together a puzzle, and your
brother is a vital part–a part that defies logic.”
“My brother is not a ‘piece‘ in whatever game you’re playing,” I retort, my wolf stirring angrily within me.
“This is not a game, Ms. Sunmere,” Draven’s tone sharpens. “Your brother has positioned himself as a
participant in matters he doesn’t comprehend. Every action bears consequences.”
A chill runs down my spine at the implied threat. “Are you threatening my brother?”
“I’m stating a fact,” he replies coolly. “Cyrinne leaves destruction in her wake. Your brother could be
next.”
“Keep my brother out of this,” I demand, instinctively placing my hand on my belly, feeling the stress
resonate with my unborn wolf.
“That’s not my decision. Or yours.” Draven’s voice suddenly grows detached. “I must go. We will speak
again, Ms. Sunmere.”
The call abruptly disconnects, leaving me staring at my phone, a swirl of confusion and fear
enveloping me.
“He threatened Jornic,” I murmur, glancing at Daelor while my hands tremble.
Daelor’s silver–gray eyes blaze with fury as he takes the phone from my shaking grasp. “Not directly, but the meaning was unmistakable.”
“I need to alert my brother,” I say, attempting to rise but feeling dizzy from the sudden effort.
“Stay seated,” Daelor instructs gently, steadying me with his hand. “We’ll address this together. I
assure you, Jornic will not come to harm.”
His confidence brings me a measure of peace. “Your enforcers?”
“Already keeping an eye on him,” Daelor affirms. “I heightened security after our encounter at the hotel.
No one can reach him.”
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A wave of relief washes over me, though my confusion lingers. “Why would Cyrinne be drawn to my brother?” I ask, desperately seeking a logical reason. “Draven is correct–Jornic has nothing to offer
her.”
“Unless what she seeks is tied to you,” Daelor proposes, his expression pensive.
I frown in disbelief. “Me? That makes even less sense. I had no connection to Cyrinne until I mated
with Alarion.”
“Are you certain?” Daelor inquires as he guides me to a nearby chair. “Think back carefully. Did your
paths ever cross before? Even in an indirect manner?”
I shake my head, attempting to remember any possible link. “No, never. We grew up in separate
regions. The first time I even heard the name Cyrinne Wynthor was when Alarion mentioned her as a childhood companion.”
Dr. Nyven Leyric, who has been quietly observing from a distance, suddenly interjects, his expression
serious.
“Cyrinne Wynthor,” he says, his brows knit in thought. “I recall seeing her at Aethervale Hospital around
a month ago.”
I look at him, taken aback. “A month ago? That would have been…”
“When your mother was admitted,” he completes, concern etching deeper lines on his face. “I spotted
Cyrinne outside your mother’s room, but I dismissed it. I thought she was there for some charity event
-she frequently makes appearances at the hospital.”
The revelation strikes me like a chilling wave. My stomach tightens with anxiety.
“Cyrinne visited my mother? But why? They weren’t acquainted.” Panic rises in my voice.
“Are you certain about that?” Daelor inquires gently, his gaze locked on mine.
My thoughts race now, assembling fragments of memory. My mother’s response when I revealed. Alarion’s affair with Cyrinne seemed excessively intense. At the time, I had chalked it up to her worry
for me, but what if…
“My mother collapsed after I mentioned Cyrinne and Alarion,” I say slowly, my heart pounding faster. “I always believed it was out of concern for me, about how I was being treated.”
“But what if it wasn’t just that?” Dr. Leyric proposes, exchanging a significant glance with Daelor.
Daelor’s demeanor turns grave. “What if her collapse wasn’t only related to your association with Alarion? What if your mother fully understood who Cyrinne Wynthor is?”
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A dreadful suspicion begins to unravel in my mind. The room suddenly feels stifling, too small.
“Are you suggesting my mother knew about Cyrinne and Jornic?” My voice quivers as I speak.
“It would clarify her intense reaction,” Daelor carefully posits. “Discovering that the same woman
involved with your son had now taken your daughter’s partner.”
The implications are overwhelming. If my mother had knowledge of Cyrinne and Jornic, it indicates that their relationship isn’t new. It must have existed long enough for my mother to uncover it.
“But that would mean…” My voice fades as the full gravity of the situation hits me.
“It would imply that Cyrinne’s involvement with your brother was premeditated,” Daelor completes my thought. “Perhaps part of some larger scheme.”
Dr. Leyric begins to pace the room, his analytical mind clearly sifting through the possibilities. “Cyrinne has a reputation for her strategic approach to relationships. She doesn’t act without a purpose.”
“But what motive could she have to specifically target my family?” I ask, my eyes stinging with unshed
tears.
Daelor kneels before me, taking my hands in his. “I have no idea yet. But we will uncover the truth.”
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