RUBY JUNE.
I was wandering through the garden when a faint, eerie sound of a little girl's laughter echoed through the air. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to see a young girl with long, flowing hair dash past me. Recognition struck me like a lightning bolt for a fleeting moment—she was my sister.
"Golden," I called out, my voice trembling. "Golden, is that you?" But if she heard me, she gave no sign, her footsteps quickening as she disappeared further into the shadows.
"Golden, please wait!" Desperation clung to my voice as I sprinted after her. The closer I got, the farther she seemed to drift away. The warm sunlight dimmed, smothered by ominous clouds that rolled in as if summoned by my fear.
"Golden, we have to go back inside! You will get soaked!" I shouted, my breath catching in my throat. At last, she stopped, turning slowly to face me.
But as I looked into her eyes, a chill ran down my spine. Though she bore my sister’s face, this girl lacked the light that once defined her. Her eyes, once bright, were now hollow, circled by dark shadows as though she had been weeping for an eternity.
"What’s wrong? What happened to you?" I whispered, sinking to my knees before her, my voice barely audible over the rising wind.
"You," she spat, her small hands shoving me away with surprising force. "You are the f*****g problem," she screamed, her voice piercing the air like a knife.
"What do you mean?" I stammered, confusion and dread washing over me. I tried to rise, but it felt as if unseen hands were holding me down, trapping me in place.
"I thought you loved me. You lied. You said you loved me, but you don't," she hissed, tears tracing down her pale cheeks.
"That's not true, Golden. I love you—I always have," I pleaded, my heart aching with guilt. "I really do."
"No, you don't," she snarled, her voice laced with venom. "You loved that silly boy more than your own sister."
A wave of guilt crashed over me, suffocating in its intensity. I reached out, desperate to comfort her. "Golden, please, let me explain. I—"
But my words were cut short. Her eyes darkened, and with a chilling calm, she tore my heart open, her voice a whisper of pure malice. "Rot in hell, bitch."
I screamed, the pain unbearable, as I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the ground. Then, with a violent jolt, I awoke, my body drenched in cold sweat, the echoes of the nightmare still reverberating in my mind.
I jolted awake, drenched in my own sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. As I tried to steady my breath, I noticed Alexa casually curling her hair, turning to look at me with raised eyebrows. “Had a nightmare?”
“What are you doing here?” I gasped, still disoriented.
She rolled her eyes. “This is my room too, girl,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my coat, hastily throwing it on as I prepared to leave the packhouse.
“Where are you going?” Genesis asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
“I will be back,” I mumbled, not stopping to explain as I dashed out the door.
I could hear her murmur under her breath as I hurried away. “What a weirdo.”
**************
I had called my assistant, Doreen, to pick me up so I could make an appointment with the witch. After about an hour’s drive, we finally arrived at the witch’s sanctuary.
“A werewolf coming at this time of the year?” the witch remarked as I stepped into the dimly lit temple. Werewolves and witches were like frenemies—tolerating each other at best, but crossing into each other’s territory could lead to severe consequences.
“I’m sorry, but this is very urgent,” I said, taking a seat.
“Trouble with Prince Charming?” she smirked, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“No, not really,” I replied, then sighed deeply. “Yes.”
“Still harboring feelings for him?” the witch asked, her tone more curious than judgmental.
“Yes, I do,” I admitted with guilt. “And I think my late sister is furious that I betrayed her by having feelings for her killer.”
“Come here, child,” she said, stretching her hand. I placed mine in hers and felt a strange warmth emanating from her palm. After a moment of silence, she spoke again, her voice low and grave. “You have a dark energy surrounding you. Your sister’s anger is powerful—I would advise you to be very careful.”
I sighed. “How do I stop feeling this way about Charles? I hate him, but there’s still this forbidden attraction I can’t shake. It’s hard to explain, almost as if I’m possessed.”
“Isn’t that what your mating bond is supposed to do?” the witch mused, raising an eyebrow. “I have always thought your mating bond sounded more like a curse. Falling in love with a stranger within seconds and feeling like you could die for them? I could never,” she hissed, shaking her head in disdain.
I bit back a retort, ignoring her insult to my kind. “How can I prevent these feelings?”
“Sadly, I can’t help you there,” she said with a shrug. “You might have to pray to whatever Jupiter or moon deity you wolves worship.”
“So there’s nothing I can do about this?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.
The witch leaned forward, her gaze piercing. “The feelings might still linger, but you must ensure that your logic is stronger than your emotions.”
I blinked several times, trying to process her words. “What do you mean?”
“Think of it this way,” she explained. “The only reason you believe you have these feelings for your sister’s killer is because the Moon Goddess is playing tricks on you. Fulfill your mother's task, and you will be free.”
I raised an eyebrow, suspicion flaring. “How do you know about what my mom asked?”
She laughed, a cold, knowing sound. “I’m a witch—I can see through you.”