Page 190 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“I told you earlier, I’m—”

“Not cute. Right. Got it,” I said with a nod, a thumbs up, and a serious face. “Now read the story,Wessy,” I teased.

His eyes sparkled, and he shook his head at me, a small smile teasing his lips. He opened the book to the first story and began to read it out loud so everyone in the room could hear.

His rich baritone voice filled the space as he read, telling us of Karl and his chosen mate Eydís, who was given a wolf companion of her own, and how they and their feuding clans became the first true werewolves. It was a beautiful tale, one that almost ended in tragedy, and an insightful look at their history. Wesley’s history.

As he spoke, Maddie entered the apartment, coming back from wherever she had been. Her eyes brightened, and she set her bag down gently before she moved to sit next to Maya on the floor, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her body as she listened to Wesley finish.

The room was quiet as Wesley ended the tale, and I looked around at everyone, taking in their varied and thoughtful expressions. Wesley closed the book, his brow furrowing as he stared at it on his leg.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I thought—I thought maybe you were like Eydís. A human, but strong enough to be given a wolf like she was. But nothing in the story indicates how or why that happened to her specifically.”

“Well, it’s because Karl chose her, and she chose him, seeing beyond the dispute between their families and putting aside their differences,” I explained, and Harrison chuckled. “But I don’t see how that applies to me. Or to us.”

“I thought maybe…” Wes cleared his throat, and his cheeks turned pink. “Maybe you were a descendant or something…” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“Wait, why would you think that?” Maddie asked, sitting up straighter.

“Because of what Lennox said when we were… um… talking to him,” Wesley replied.

“You mean torturing him,” she corrected, and Wesley sighed but nodded. “What did he say?”

“He said Haven was special, and she was a gift. And reminded me that all the stories are based on truth.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Oh my Goddess, you are a dumbass,” she said, standing and taking the book from Wesley’s hands. “You are looking at the wrong story,” she said as she flipped through the pages and then handed the book back to him with it opened to a story near the end of the book.

The look on Wesley’s face was a mixture of shock, disbelief, hope, and fear, all in equal measure. His skin paled, his eyes widened, and his hands shook as he reached for the book and held it, his fingertips skimming over the page.

“Ria,” he murmured, looking up at Maddie for a second before his eyes moved back to the page.

“Ria,” Maddie agreed, crossing her arms and nodding once.

“Ria?” I asked, my head swiveling between them. “Who is Ria?”

“Asteria,” Sebastian breathed.

I whipped my head around towards him, and the look he gave me was unlike any I’d ever seen from him. It was as though he was seeing me for the first time, like I wasn’t the same person he’d grown used to seeing over the last few weeks. He regarded me with awe, and I shifted my weight on Wesley’s lap.

Feeling the eyes of the others on me, I looked around the room to find everyone except my parents giving me similar looks—a mix of surprise, awe, hope, and disbelief.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” I asked, turning my eyes back to Wesley.

He still stared at the book, his gaze glued to the page, his fingers still touching that same spot, lost in his own thoughts. He swallowed and shook himself, bringing his mind back to the present.

“Sorry, I—” He exhaled and looked at me. “Before I tell you why they’re looking at you like that, I want to show you this,” he said, tapping the page. “Because I know you’ll just say it’s impossible, there is no way, or it’s just a story if I tell you what we’re all thinking. But I think you might think differently after seeing this.”

He handed me the book, and I took it from him slowly, my eyes lingering on his for a moment before they moved to the book.

My breath hitched in my chest as I looked at the image at the beginning of the story. A photograph of an old piece of parchment with a hand-drawn image of three concentric circles, stars in the middle of the smallest, and moons drawn in the second. All three of them mimicked an eclipse.

It was an image I was all too familiar with. A symbol I had grown up seeing almost every day because it was stitched into the only belonging I had from my birth family.

The symbol from my blanket.

CHAPTER 64

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