Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

55 Chapter 55

55 Chapter 55

Seraphina’s POV 1

The walk to Caleb's house took less than ten minutes,. The small residential street was lined with modest homes,

their front yards dotted

with autumn flowers and children’s toys.

“That one’s ours,” Caleb said softly, pointing to a two-story house with white siding and a wraparound porch. A

wooden swing swayed

gently in the evening breeze.

Before Caleb could reach for his keys, the front door swung open, revealing a woman in her fifties with graying

brown hair and kind eyes

that went wide with shock the moment they landed on me.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God, it’s really you.”

“Mom,” Caleb said gently, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. “I told you she was alive.”

Mrs. Morrison stared atwith tears streaming down her cheeks. “Seraphina,” she breathed, my ncoming

out like a prayer. “We

thought... we all thought you were dead. After what happened to your parents, when no one could find you...”

“Mrs. Morrison,” | said softly, my own voice thick with emotion. “I'm sorry | don’t remember you. | don’t

remember anything from before.”

“Margaret? What's all the commotion-” A man appeared in the doorway behind her, tall and broad-shouldered

with silver threading

through his dark hair. The moment his eyes found me, he went completely still. “Holy hell.”

“Robert, watch your language,” Margaret scolded automatically, though she never took her eyes off me.

“Sorry, hon, but...” He shook his head in amazement. “Sera? Is it really you, little wolf?”

Margaret stepped back and gestured us inside. “Cin, cin. We can’t have this conversation on the front

porch.” She wiped her

eyes with the back of her hand, though fresh tears continued to fall. “I need to call Eleanor and Tom. They're not

going to believe-"

“Mom, Caleb interrupted gently. “Maybe we should let Sera settle in first. It's been a long day.”

The inside of the house was warm and inviting, with overstuffed furniture and family photos covering every

available surface. The scent

of something delicious-pot roast, maybe, or stew-drifted from the kitchen, and I could hear the faint sound of a

television playing in

another room.

“Sit, sit, Margaret insisted, usheringtoward the living room couch. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? | can make

coffee, or tea, or-

“Mom Caleb said again, his tone fond but firm. “She’s not going anywhere. Breathe.”

Robert settled into his recliner with a heavy sigh, his eyes never leaving my face. “We looked for you, you know.

After the attack, when the authorities couldn't find your body with your parents, we held onto hope that maybe

you'd survived. We searched every hospital within five hundred miles, called every agency we could think of”

“Where did you end up?” Margaret asked, perching on the edge of the coffee table so she could be closer to me.

“How did you survive?”

| took a shaky breath, preparing to tell the abbreviated version of my story. “A woman named Elena saved me.

She was badly wounded,

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55 Chapter 55

but she managed to getto another pack territory before she died. The Nightshadow Pack tookin.”

“Actually,” Robert said, standing up with purpose, “we might be able to help with sof those memories.

Margaret, where did you put

those photo albums?”

“Which ones?” she asked, though her eyes lit up with understanding.

“The ones from the summer gatherings. The ones with all the kids.”

Margaret practically bounced with excitement. “Oh, yes! Sera, you have to see these. We have pictures of you

and Caleb from when you

were tiny.”

She disappeared down a hallway and returned with an armload of photo albums, setting them on the coffee

table with reverent care.

“These are from the annual pack gatherings we used to have at Moonrise Lake. Every year, all the northern

packs would ctogether

for a weekend of celebrating and bonding”

She opened the first album, and | gasped. The photo on the opening page showed a group of adults standing

around a picnic table, their

faces bright with laughter. In the center were a man and woman | didn’t recognize but somehow felt like | should-

a tall, proud-looking

man with dark hair and kind eyes, and a beautiful woman with auburn hair and the exact shade of green eyes |

saw in my mirror every

morning.

“Your parents,” Margaret said softly.

| traced their faces with my finger, searching for sspark of recognition, secho of love or memory. But

there was nothing except

a hollow ache in my chest for people | should have known.

“And this,” she said, turning the page, “is you.”

The photograph showed two small children, maybe three or four years old, sitting on a blanket by a lake. A little

girl with wild curls and

grass stains on her dress was grinning at the camera, her arms wrapped around a slightly older boy with serious

dark eyes and a

protective posture.

“That's us,” Caleb said, settling on the other side ofon the couch. “You'd just fallen into the lake trying to

catch a frog, and | was

trying to keep you from doing it again.”

Margaret flipped through more pages, revealing a treasury of moments I'd lost. There were photos ofand

Caleb building sandcastles,

chasing butterflies, sharing ice cream cones that were bigger than our heads. In every picture, we were

inseparable.

“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” Margaret said, stopping at a photo that made my breath catch.

It showed the two of us asleep under a large oak tree, my head pillowed on Caleb’s shoulder while he leaned

against the trunk. We

couldn’t have been more than five years old, but there was something so peaceful, so trusting about the image

that it made my heart

clench.

“You two had been playing all day, Robert said with a chuckle, “Running around like wild animals, getting into

everything. By evening, you just collapsed wherever you were and fell asleep. Your parents thought it was the

sweetest thing they'd ever seen.”

“I look so happy,” | whispered, touching the photo with gentle fingers.

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55 Chapter 55

“You were happy,” Margaret assured me. “Both of you were. Those summers were magical. Your parents and

ours would spend hours talking and laughing while you kids ran wild. It was like having one big, extended

family.”

The weight of all that lost time, all those stolen memories, pressed down on my chest like a physical thing. I'd

had a family once, a real family who lovedand watchedgrow. I'd had a best friend who protectedand

shared his toys and fell asleep next tounder

oak trees.

And it was all gone, erased by violence and trauma and the cruel passage of time.

“I'm sorry,” | said, my voice breaking. “I'm so sorry | don’t remember any of it. | wish | could remember you,

remember this, remember

being that happy little girl.”

“Hey,” Caleb said softly, his hand finding mine. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You survived something that

should have killed you.”

Robert cleared his throat roughly. “Speaking of your parents,” he said, his expression growing serious. “Caleb

said you chere looking

for answers about what happened to them.”

| nodded, steeling myself for whatever details they might share. “I need to know the truth. | need to understand

who was responsible.”

The Morrisons exchanged another weighted look before Robert leaned forward in his chair. “What do you know

about that night?”

“Not much,” | admitted. “Nothing, actually.”

Robert said grimly. “The details are... difficult to hear.”

“I can handle it,” | said, though my hands were trembling slightly. “I need to hear it.”