Page 122 of The Alpha's Cursed Queen

I rifle through the drawings, one by one, my heart rate increasing with each image.

“Alice, you’re going to have to tell me what’s so special about these pictures. All Mira will say is that her friend showed her these things, and she drew them.”

“What friend?” I ask, lifting my head sharply.

“I don’t know. The pictures, Alice?” Darian presses, his voice tense.

I can’t sound hysterical. “These are the dark witches in the lake, lying in the same formation I saw them in. In this next drawing,they are standing. In this one, they’re swimming to the surface. And here”—I lay out the last picture—“this one is different. There are more figures in this one.”

“They’re the bad people.” A sniffle comes from the hallway. Mira is standing there, her eyes red from crying. “My friend said those are the bad witches.”

“Bad witches?” I get to my feet. “You mean dark witches?”

“No! The dark witches are the good ones!”

She’s getting all worked up again, so I approach her slowly, my tone gentle now. “Mira, you need to tell me about these drawings. Who showed these things to you?”

“The lady in my dreams. She said she was your friend. She said she was my friend, too.”

“Which lady?”

“This one.” She points at a long-haired figure she drew. I try not to react. The witch she’s pointing at is the one who grabbed my hand underwater. “She said the bad witches are going to hurt me. They’re going to complete the circle. She showed it to me.”

Darian exchanges a look with me. “What did she show you?” he asks Mira.

“The lake. The good witches came out of it, and Mom was there. They helped Mom save me. Then, the bad witches took me. And you were there, Daddy. You were yelling at Mom to go with me, and you were hurt.”

“Slow down.” I guide Mira to the couch before asking, “Did you dream all this? Did you dream about this lake and this”—I hesitate—“and this witch?”

Mira shakes her head. “She’s my friend. She said she tried to talk to you, but the bad witches did something to you, and now she can’t.”

“So, you dreamt about this woman?”

“No!” Mira looks frustrated. “She’s always there. At night, she sits with me and tells me stories till I go to sleep. She showed me the lake in my dream, though.”

A picture is being painted for me, one that makes my blood curdle. “How has she been getting into the apartment? I always lock your window.”

I’m halfway across the room to go check. I need to be sure. The idea that a dark witch has been breaking into my home all these years, with access to Mira, is too much to bear. My wolf is snarling, but Mira grabs my hand. “Mom! She has always been there!”

“Let me check.” Darian hurries to her bedroom and I follow, Mira attached to me. After sniffing around, he shakes his head. “No scent of an outsider. Maybe she just has an overactive imagination.”

But we both know he doesn’t believe that. I can see it in his eyes.

“What’s really so odd about these drawings, though?” Darian asks slowly, trying to calm us both down. “It seems unlikely, but maybe someone told her, and she imagined—”

“I told you I saw the bodies of the witches in the lake, didn’t I?” I reply in a hushed voice, not wanting Mira to hear.

“No, Alice, I went into that lake. I had to get an underwater flower for the white witches, for my father’s treatment, remember? I checked. There were no bodies.”

“There were bodies in the lake, Darian!” I whisper to him urgently. “They were lying at the bottom in the exact way Mira has drawn them. And the one she’s describing is the one who opened her eyes and grabbed my wrist. The mark on my ankle appeared after that incident. I never imagined any of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“I did!” I explode. “But you didn’t believe me. Not back then. And now—Look, I don’t know what’s happening, but”—I look at Mira, my heart pounding—“she’s not safe. You know she’s not. It was bad enough that the white witches were looking for me, but dark witches? I didn’t even know there were any left!”

“Let’s have this conversation away from our daughter. Mira, stay in your room.”

“What about the park?!” our daughter complains. “You said we were going—”

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