Page 119 of Dark Awakening

I offer to help, stepping over to the phone to call room service. “Allow me,” I added confidently.

I am in the middle of ordering food for Dani when her phone starts ringing. Emily is calling to check in with her, so she steps away to take the call.

Lucian returned to Karma last night, leaving the four of us to try to solve this perplexing puzzle. Adrian then suggests that he and Erik come with us to help uncover the relic. I give Adrian’s shoulder a friendly pat of appreciation for his loyalty and dedication to Dani and me. We could use his help.

“That would be great,” I said.

Dani emerges from the bedroom, head drooped and shoulders slumped. Her shirt is rumpled, and a few strands of hair have come undone from her braid. She plops down on the couch beside me with a deep sigh.

“Food will be here soon,” I say, trying to cheer her up. A faint smile crosses her lips, and she nods in reply.

The minutes tick by until we hear a sharp knock at the door. When I open it, a delivery man stands balancing a large tray filled with steaming delights. Dani practically flies off the couch, clapping her hands in anticipation. She sits back down and digs eagerly into her food, eyes closed in bliss as she savors every bite.

Our idle peace is shattered when the evening news report abruptly airs a chilling bulletin.

"A savage double homicide has rocked the nearby small town of Leavenworth. The victims, Tom and Louise Pierce, were brutally mauled in their homes. Authorities suspect a vicious animal attack by a creature never before encountered. Shock and fear ripple through the community."

My throat constricts as if in a vise, and my lungs are getting crushed under an invisible weight. I turn toward Dani. Her eyes, huge and full of shock, are fixed on me, and her lips are parted in a silent gasp of disbelief. Every step I take in her direction is a goddamn battle, fighting through the suffocating dread.

When I finally reach her, the sorrow I see in her eyes is a goddamn ocean, and I'm sinking fast. Without a second thought, I yank her into a fierce embrace, trying to be her rock in this shitstorm of misery. Inside, I'm a twisted wreck. Anger is boiling over. For her, for all the fresh hell she's been dragged through in no fucking time at all.

I should've seen it coming, should've known those wolves would want blood for Marcus's end. I saved Dani, but I let her heart get ripped out in the process.

Her lips part to say something, to maybe make sense of this fucked-up mess, but only one word finds its way out.

“No.” Her voice cracks as tears spill down her cheeks. My arms instinctively squeeze to embrace her, knowing I can't say anything to ease the pain.

Guilt slams into me with the force of a fucking sledgehammer as Dani's slight frame shakes in my arms, her sobs soaking into my shirt. The weight of what's happened crashes down on me—those damn wolf pack bastards we spared have paid us back with interest, taking out their brand of sick revenge on what matters most to her.

My chest shatters with each of her cries, and a searing rage torches through my veins as I think of them laying waste to her entire world. She'd only just started to get a handle on her grief after her boss bit it in that senseless kill. Now, her folks are ripped away from her, and it's like a knife twisting in my gut, wondering if she'll ever piece herself back together after this kind of carnage.

Danica

64

The shocking news of my parents' violent demise hits me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in its devastating wake.

In a daze, I hastily change clothes, grabbing the first items I spot in my bag. A breezy white tennis skirt and bright pink tank top better suited for summer fun than this grim purpose. But they'll have to suffice. Rhyland and I immediately set out to make the somber trip to my parent's home in Leavenworth, where everything went horribly wrong.

As Rhyland drives the winding highway, the passing scenery blurs together through the sheen of grief clouding my vision. Each mile marker draws us closer to the epicenter of my pain. The future looms ahead, a hazy chasm of uncertainty without my parents' steadying presence to guide me through life's trials.

We eventually pull up before the charming two-story house. What once provided me warmth and security is now a chilling reminder of all that was so viciously ripped away. As I step from the car, the full weight of debilitating sorrow settles like an anchor on my chest, making each step toward that beloved front door feel ten times heavier than the last.

The air inside hangs stale and unnaturally still, devoid of the familiar, comforting scents of my mother's home cooking or the sweet perfume of fresh-cut flowers from her garden. The cozy rooms that had always brimmed with life and love now echo only absence, merely hollow shells frozen in time.

As Rhyland and I navigate the home, I compulsively trail my fingers over chairs, photos, and knickknacks—every memento a cutting reminder of those no longer here to imbue these inanimate objects with meaning.

We eventually cross paths with Detective Alvarez and his team, still meticulously documenting and gathering evidence from the horrific scene. The detective meets my reddened gaze; his expression is carved with empathy and dogged determination in equal measure.

"Ms. Pierce, please accept my deepest condolences," he begins solemnly. "We are tirelessly gathering every possible clue to bring these vicious perpetrators to justice."

I nod mutely, his well-meaning words floating past, barely heard through the anguished haze enshrouding me. True justice seems a faint, distant promise in the face of such senseless brutality.

I continue moving numbly from room to violated room, each overflowing with echoes of the past now haunting me.

My watery gaze in the cheerful yellow kitchen lands upon my mother's ornate porcelain teacup in its familiar spot in the cabinet. As I gently run my fingers over its faded blue floral pattern, precious memories wash over me in bittersweet waves—long rainy afternoons spent chatting over steaming mugs at this worn table, our comforting nightly tea ritual before bed.

Rhyland squeezes my hand, a wordless anchor against the threatening tides of despair.

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