Book 5 Chapter 7: ‘She Is My Mate’
1715 Words
-Chris-
I was quietly led inside by Arthur, our butler, who wore a smile I had never seen before. I knew he loved the idea that I was going to take over. He had always seen potential in me that I couldn’t recognize in myself.
When my father sent me to help Valerio, I had been scared. I feared I wouldn’t measure up and that I would let my father down. His disappointment loomed larger than any fear of death. Arthur saw right through my insecurities.
I stand by the door, ready to depart. My mother merely provides me with a hug before leaving. Speedy clings to me so badly that my father has to drag her away, and he offers nothing but a command about not failing him.
Now I stand alone, bag in hand, wondering if I will ever see home again.
I step toward the door, where Arthur is holding it. I give him a small smile and am about to step out when he says, “You’re brave. Stronger than any alpha I’ve ever known.”
I turn to the man who has remained loyal to my family since my grandfather. He gives me a big smile, his wrinkles becoming even more pronounced as he smiles. And suddenly, the fear in my heart lessens a little.
“Thank you, Arthur,” I whisper.
“I will see you when you get back.”
“I will see you.”
His words had meant a lot to me. I trusted him more than I did my own father, which felt insane but was undeniably true.
“Is Speedy home?” I asked as I stepped inside.
Arthur nodded. “She’s in the living room.”
We climbed the stairs, and he gestured towards the half-closed door leading to the spacious living room before walking away, likely to attend to other matters. I slowly opened the door, leaning against the frame as I studied my sister.
She was sitting on the couch with an iPad resting on her lap, leaning against the armrest, her legs pulled up close. She was dressed in a grey shirt and black slacks, and she wore pink socks adorned with small red hearts. It made me smile to see she still embraced her inner child.
As a kid, she had loved socks in all sorts of bright colors and playful designs—cats, animals, you name it. The brighter, the better. They drew attention away from her. I knew despite being raised in an upper-class world, she didn’t enjoy being stared at or being the center of attention. The socks were like her safety net.
“Hey, Speedy,” I said.
She looked up from the iPad and glared at me. Quickly putting it down, she stood up, crossed her arms, gave me a look that could kill, and stormed past me.
“Speedy!” I called out, following her up to the next floor.
She was fast—faster than I remembered—but then she had been smaller the last time I chased her. That’s how she got the nickname. She slammed her bedroom door in my face and locked it.
I knocked. “Come on, Speedy. I’m sorry, okay? Just talk to me... please.”
But there was no answer. I sighed and hung my head. I couldn’t blame her. I deserved that door slam. But I needed to talk to her.
“Speedy, please,” I pleaded.
I rarely used the word ‘please’. But this was my kid sister, the one who turned me into a soft brother—someone who had always protected her and cared for her. I would still do anything she asked.
Leaning my head and one hand against her door, I continued, “I’m sorry. I really am. I messed up. You know how I am. Please, can’t we talk? Speedy!”
I knocked again. This time, she opened the door, but it wasn’t for a conversation or reconciliation. No, she was ready for a fight. It was clear in her eyes.
“You’re sorry?” she inquired mockingly. “You told me you were back—after five years! You said you were back, and then you left... again! You didn’t even say anything, and I didn’t hear from you for three months. You think I want to talk to you because you’re sorry? Because you say you messed up? That’s not a real apology. That’s just an excuse. I won’t be so stupid as to let you back in. Get that through your thick head!”
She slammed the door again, the sound echoing in the vast, white hallway. I sighed. I definitely deserved it all. She was right—words meant nothing without action, and I had done nothing.
“Great brother... just great,” I murmured as I ran a hand through my hair, feeling frustrated.
If I couldn’t get her to talk because she wanted to, maybe I could entice her curiosity.
“Speedy, I know you’re mad. I promise to make it up to you, but I think you really would like to talk to me. I have a mystery that needs solving, and you might be able to help. What do you think?” I offered.
There was silence for a moment, then suddenly the door cracked open an inch, and her deep blue eyes peeked through. I could see the curiosity I had sparked in her gaze, and I smiled warmly.
“A mystery?” she inquired.
I nodded.
“For the king?”
“No, but it’s no less exciting.”
I could see she was debating whether to let me inside, but eventually, she opened the door wider and stepped aside so I could walk in. The room had changed. Gone were the pink walls and princess-themed bedding.
Now, the walls were a dark blue, bare of any decorations, with a dark brown dresser and desk, along with a makeup table. A picture of us sat by her nightstand, and there was a large king-sized bed adorned with cream-colored sheets and thin white curtains that draped from the top, perfect for hiding behind.
Long white curtains covered her floor-to-ceiling windows, and there was a small seating area in front of a fireplace and TV.
“You better make it good,” she said, sitting down on her bed.
She crossed her arms, and when I tried to approach, she shook her head. “You stay there. I can barely stand you in here.”
Her words stung, but I understood—I had hurt her deeply. I nodded and took a seat in the chair by her desk, leaning slightly forward as she studied me with a calmer demeanor.
“So?” she prompted.
“Have you heard of Kaytlyn Hayes?” I inquired.
She nodded slowly. “Yes. I know her sister, Madeleine… or, well, we’re not exactly friends, but we know of each other. She’s really quiet but very sweet.”
“You know I’m going to be mated to Madeleine?” I said.
Her arms lowered, and she nodded slowly, a hint of sadness in her expression. “Yeah… I heard. How did the meeting go?”
“Not well. Very badly, actually. She fainted.”
“Fainted? Why?”
I shrugged. “Good question, sis. She was terrified, shaking the whole time. I think it has something to do with her family. I worry they scare her… maybe even hurt her.”
Speedy seemed deep in thought, processing what I had said. “I can’t say I’ve seen anyone hurt her, but I’ve noticed the way her mother speaks to her—not in a very nice tone. I’ve rarely seen her father, but the one time I did, it was like he didn’t even acknowledge her. She’s very quiet, though. No one really notices her.”
I nodded. Yes, she was so quiet you almost forgot she was there, but something told me that was how she liked it. “Speaking of her family, I think they’re hiding something.”
Speedy inched closer, her curiosity piqued again. “Like what?”
“Her sister Kaytlyn, as I mentioned before—"
“The dead one.”
“That’s just it, Speedy. She isn’t dead.”
Speedy’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes widening in shock as if I were speaking a foreign language. “What?”
I nodded slowly. “I met her.”
“Madeleine?”
“No, Kaytlyn.”
“But that’s not possible… She’s dead,” she said.
“She isn’t, Speedy.”
“But… How… Why… By the Goddess…” It was amusing to see Speedy fumble over her words, and I understood her confusion. I still found it hard to believe Kaytlyn was alive, but how else could I know she was my mate? How could my body react the way it did to her if she were not?
“Did her sister, Madeleine, say anything?” Speedy inquired, recovering from her shock.
“I tried talking to her, but as I said, she fainted.”
Speedy narrowed her eyes and tapped her chin with her index finger, biting her lower lip as she thought it over. It was amusing to watch, and I would have laughed a little if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“How exactly did you say you met her?” she inquired.
“I didn’t. We ran into each other.”
“Ran into each other?” she echoed.
“Literally. We bumped into each other and landed on the floor,” I replied.
“And she told you who she was?” Speedy asked.
“No, but I saw her painting. She was wearing the same necklace in it.”
“That’s no proof. She could be a thief.”
“A thief who could easily get into a house with a state-of-the-art security system and knows the place well?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, shrugging.
“Come on, Speedy. It was her.”
“Are you certain?”
I nodded. Speedy fell silent, clearly pondering it all.
“And one more thing,” I added, pulling her attention back to me. “She is my mate.”
- Writer
