Chapter 91 The Real Killer
Aelira’s POV
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I watch in disbelief as Daelor’s fist connects squarely with my brother’s jaw, sending Jornic reeling
backward onto the hotel bed. The sickening sound of the impact reverberates through the room.
“You’re the one who killed mother!” Jornic shouts just before the blow lands, his amber eyes wild in
desperation.
Now he lies sprawled on the rumpled sheets, one hand pressed to his rapidly swelling face. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth, but the physical injury pales in comparison to the emotional wound caused by his words.
Turning to Daelor, I can’t stand to be in this room for another moment. “Please, take me away from
here.”
Without a moment’s pause, he places a reassuring hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the door. I refuse to glance back at my brother. This could very well be the last time I see him, and I can’t
muster any concern.
As we step into the hotel corridor, my legs nearly buckle. Daelor’s strong arm encircles my waist,
steadying me as we make our way to the elevator. His powerful Alpha scent envelops me like armor,
but even that can’t quell the tremors shaking my body.
“She killed my mother,” I whisper as the elevator doors slide shut. “Cyrinne deliberately took my
mother’s life.”
Daelor’s jaw clenches tightly, his silver–gray eyes darkening with fury. “We’ll ensure she faces the consequences for this, Aelira. That’s a promise.”
The elevator moves down smoothly, yet my mind is a turbulent mess. A dreadful clarity begins to
materialize within me–a complex puzzle, with all the pieces finally fitting together.
As we drive, I gaze out the window without really seeing anything. The burden of realization weighs
heavily on me. Cyrinne’s scheme turns out to be more intricate than we had ever anticipated.
“She masterminded everything,” I break the silence with a heavy sigh. “The fabricated affair with
Alarion, the announcement of the marking ceremony–all of it designed to drive me away so she could seize my position.”
“And
your mother was just collateral damage,” Daelor responds grimly, his grip on the steering wheel
turning his knuckles white.
I nod, wrapping my arms around my swollen belly. My poor mother, who only wished to see me happy
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<Chapter 91 The Real Killer
before her passing. Instead, she leaves this world believing I am enduring a heart–wrenching betrayal,
oblivious to the fact that it is part of Cyrinne’s cruel strategy.
“But what motivates her to go to such lengths?” I ponder out loud. “Why not wait for Alarion and me to naturally divorce?”
Just as Daelor is about to reply, his mobile phone rings. He checks the screen and switches it to
speaker mode. “Nyven, you’re living with Aelira.”
“I’ve gone through the surveillance footage,” Dr. Leyric’s voice comes through clearly. “Cyrinne certainly visited Emily Sunmere. She was in her room for precisely eight minutes.”
My heart tightens painfully. “What did she do to my mother?”
“Nothing physical,” Dr. Leyric replies. “However, I spoke with the nurse on duty that day. She overheard.
Cyrinne asking detailed questions about your mother’s health and specifically probing about her
medical limitations.”
“What kind of limitations?” Daelor queries, though I already have an idea.
=
“The nurse informed Cyrinne that any significant emotional shock could be life–threatening, given
Emily’s weakened heart condition,” Dr. Leyric confirms. “Cyrinne appeared particularly interested in this
detail.”
I feel my face go pale as the realization hits. Cyrinne hadn’t merely stumbled into endangering my
mother’s life–she intentionally researched how to do it.
“She also inquired about Aelira’s visiting hours,” Dr. Leyric continues. “Almost as if-
11
Abruptly, Daelor ends the call, cutting off Dr. Leyric mid–sentence. His face is a storm, barely contained anger radiating from him.
“That’s enough,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “We now have proof of her malicious intentions.”
I feel a wave of nausea rise in my throat. The cold, calculated cruelty of it all makes me physically ill. My wolf is restless beneath my skin, agitated by both the revelations and my bodily response to them.
“Pull over,” I manage to choke out.
Daelor swerves the car to the side of the road without hesitation. I barely manage to open the door
me from this
display of weakness, but Daelor shows no sign of disgust. Instead, he retrieves a bottle of water from
the glove compartment, gently brushing my hair back from my face.
before I heave my stomach’s contents onto the pavement. A rush of shame floods over
After rinsing my mouth, I lean back against the seat, feeling utterly drained. Daelor waits patiently, one hand protectively resting on my knee.
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“What do you wish to do now, Aelira?” he inquires softly.
I gaze straight ahead, my thoughts racing with possibilities. In just ten days, Cyrinne and Alarion are set to have their marking ceremony–only ten days before my mate bond severance is officially finalized. This timing is no accident; Cyrinne wants to ensure that I experience the pain of my bond being severed, intensified by Alarion’s marking of another.
“I want her to suffer,” I state deliberately. “I want them both to understand the full extent of their
actions.”
“The marking ceremony,” Daelor interprets my thoughts. “You plan to confront them during the
marking ceremony.”
I nod, a chilling resolve replacing my sorrow. “You received an invitation, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he acknowledges, a note of surprise in his tone. “Did Alarion extend an invitation to you as
well?”
“No,” I respond with a bitter chuckle. “But Cyrinne did. Just a final twist of the knife, I suppose.”
Daelor’s lips pull into a predatory grin that mirrors my mood perfectly. “Then we will attend. We’ll wait
for the ideal moment.”
“Let them enjoy their celebration,” I agree, my voice steadying with determination. “Let them believe they are victorious.”
Ten days. I can endure ten more days to reveal the heartbreaking truth that will shatter their world.
HA
The following week blurs by in a whirlwind of preparations and prenatal appointments. Today, I am scheduled for yet another checkup at Aethervale Hospital. Oriana is with me, her incessant chatter about nursery colors providing a much–needed distraction.
“I still think moon–silver and pale blue would be perfect,” she insists as we step into the hospital lobby.
“It’s gender–neutral yet elegant.”
I manage a smile despite my dark thoughts. “I’ll think about it.
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My smile falters as I catch sight of the last two people I wish to see–Alarion and Cyrinne, emerging from an examination room further down the hall. Alarion hovers attentively at Cyrinne’s side, one hand
supporting her elbow while the other holds her purse.
E
“Do you need to sit down?” I hear him ask, his voice laced with concern. “I can fetch you some water.”
Cyrinne leans against him dramatically, her emerald eyes fluttering. “Maybe just for a moment. The doctor advised me to avoid standing for too long.”
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My jaw tightens as I observe Alarion guiding her to a nearby bench, fussing over her comfort as if she were fragile. In our three years together, I can’t recall him ever displaying such tenderness toward me- even during my most challenging moments.
“We can take the next elevator,” Oriana whispers, tugging at my sleeve.
I shake my head, a peculiar calm washing over me. “No. I want them to see me.”
My wolf, usually restless around Alarion, remains surprisingly tranquil. Perhaps she understands what
I know–the devastating truth that is about to erupt in their faces.
As we draw closer, Alarion looks up, his amber eyes widening in surprise before quickly narrowing into suspicion. Cyrinne glances up as well, her hand instinctively moving to her rounded belly–a belly that
carries not Alarion’s pup, but that of his father.
The irony is almost too perfect. The pup doesn’t belong to Alarion. It is the child of Roderic Riven-
Alarion’s own sibling.
And if he completes the marking ceremony with Cyrinne, the unborn pup will simultaneously become
both Alarion’s sibling and his step–pup in a twisted werewolf lineage scandal that threatens to shake
the entire pack structure.
