Page 80 of Roaring Flames

“My birth parents?” I stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t understand?—”

“Izzy.” Gerry moves until he’s crouched in front of me, the material of his pants creaking with the movement. His long beard brushes against his kneecaps as he takes my hand in both of his. “Your parents—the ones who unfortunately passed away when you were young—were not your birth parents. They adopted you.”

“No. That can’t be true. No.” I desperately wish to wrench my hand free of Gerry’s while simultaneously wanting to throw myself into his embrace and have him hold me.

I’m in desperate need of comfort.

“They probably planned to tell you when you were older,” Hale says, moving to stand behind Gerry.

He places his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Amanda recognized you instantly,” Gerry adds. “You look so much like your birth mom.”

“It took her a while to finalize the paperwork so you could be housed with us. There are politics involved that go beyond what you can comprehend, especially in the supernatural community,” Hale says.

“But she knew you would be safe with us, even if you never displayed any supernatural characteristics like your parents?—”

“Wait. Slow down. Back the fuck up.” I finally wrench my hand free of Gerry’s and wave both of them in front of his face. Iblink rapidly, trying to dispel the tears congregating in my eyes. “You said I look like my birth mom? Is she…?”

Sadness twists Gerry’s face, a prominent line materalizing between his brows. “She passed away when you were a baby…which is probably how you ended up adopted in the first place.”

“She was a witch, just like Amanda,” Hale explains. “Super powerful. The witches were furious when she chose to leave their community to join ours.”

“To join…the wolves?” I ask tentatively, volleying my gaze between the two men.

Gerry nods. “She discovered she was the Heart of a wolf pack. She gave up everything to be with them.”

Hale and Gerry exchange another one of those unreadable glances.

The fine hairs on my arms immediately prickle. There’s something they’re not telling me, something important. That knowledge blooms fear in my chest like a poisonous weed. Shivers scuttle all over my skin.

“She was the happiest she’s ever been when she discovered she was pregnant with you,” Hale whispers, his eyes glazing over at whatever faraway memory grabbed hold of him. “So all of us were shocked when she disappeared.”

“We thought it was a kidnapping at first,” Gerry says. “Her pack was out of their mind with worry. They searched everywhere for her. Eventually, they found the letter.”

“The letter?” I ask.

Hale takes over the story, blinking away tears. “She said that she needed to leave. That it wasn’t safe for her and for you. We didn’t understand. Still don’t, if I’m being completely honest. Some believe that she suffered a paranoid delusion. Mental illness ran in her family. Your family,” he corrects.

The lead weight in my gut turns into a bowling ball, sluicing around the contents of my stomach.

“The police were called about a body found in a motel a few hundred miles away from here.” Gerry reaches upwards to place his hand over Hale’s, which still rests on his shoulder. “They confirmed that it was your mother’s body.”

I suck in a sharp gasp as pain arrows through me. Pain and grief and anger, all aimed at a woman I never met, never knew existed.

“What happened to her?”

Hale hesitates, indecision sparking in his eyes.

But I ask again, my voice curt and concise, “What happened to her?”

“They believe it was suicide,” Gerry confesses. “Though her pack is convinced that she was murdered.”

“You weren’t found,” Hale says. “There was no sign of you ever existing. Her pack thought she suffered a miscarriage.”

“And then Amanda got a hold of us and claimed that she got assigned a child who looked exactly like Helena Craft.”

Helena Craft.

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