Page 44 of Witch's Wolf

We barely finish the conversation when Erica’s BMW rounds the corner and my pulse spikes. I force myself to stand still as the car rolls up. Its sleek shape fills my vision like a storm front rolling in. Raul lays his hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but brief is a silent warning and a quiet reassurance. The look in his eyes says everything.No one understands you better than I do.Too bad only my own blood can do what the woman in that car never could.

Erica steps out, her face pale, her hands clutching a white envelope like it’s the only thing holding her together.

“Hi,” she says, her voice small.

Monica doesn’t greet her, doesn’t offer so much as a nod before rushing over to her. That makes my stomach tighten. She snatches the envelope from Erica’s hands and rips it open without a word. She scans the paper then, pulls Erica into a tight hug. No hesitation. No explanation.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, the words barely carrying across the space.

“I found out last night,” she says, sniffling, her voice thick. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I can’t blame you.” Monica eases back, her hands lingering on Erica’s arms. “Do you want to tell them? Or should I?”

“I got it,” she says, taking a deep breath and holding it before she turns to me and Raul. She hesitates then she is looking right at me. “Sam… Raul…” she hesitates, swallowing hard. “I had my parents’ bodies exhumed and tested. Their DNA… neither of the bodies are a match for mine. They’re not… it’s not my parents.”

“Holy shit…” Raul whispers, his gaze moving from Erica to Monica, like he can’t process the words.

I feel a slow sinking realization. This isn’t just a family secret. This is betrayal, pure and simple. Erica wasn’t just abandoned. She was lied to, manipulated, and trapped into a reality built on nothing but deception. The people who were supposed to love her unconditionally had orchestrated an entire life of lies. Despite that, all I feel is a cold detachment.

“Your parents tricked you,” I say, stepping forward. The cold gripping my chest is in my voice too. “I am sorry. That’s sad, but it doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“She needs my support,” Monica cuts in, arms crossing like she’s bracing for a fight. “Is that enough for you?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t she have another friend? Stacy, right? Lives in Queens?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

Monica’s lips press into a thin line and she leans in, ready for the fight. I am too. The pain in my chest rages. Seeing Erica is too much. I should be at least a little empathetic, but any empathy I feel is drowning in anger. Anger at what she did to me. What she’s said.

“Alright, Sam. You win,” Erica says sharply, lifting her chin and meeting my glare head-on. “I need Helena’s help. That make you happy? What you wanted?”

“Happy?” I laugh with nothing but bitter humor. “No.” I step closer, clenching my jaw. “Confused? Angry? You bet. When you found out you were a witch, Helena offered to help you. And what did you do? You ran. You rejected her and broke up with me. Now you show up, expecting what? A warm welcome?” I snarl. “Hats off for stability, Ms. Connors.”

“God damn it, Sam—” Monica says, stepping up.

“He’s right,” Erica cuts Monica off before she finishes.

Her voice is quiet and controlled, but the weight in her eyes says she knew this was coming. She exhales, steeling herself.

“Can you guys give us a minute?”

Monica hesitates, but Raul nudges her toward the cabin.

“Sure,” he says, taking Monica by the arm and leading her inside.

Monica glares over her shoulder but goes along with Raul. I clench and unclench my fists watching them disappear. I can’t look at Erica. Anger and confusion tangle in my head and guts like a raging storm without end.

“How long have you known about your dual nature, Sam?” Erica’s asks, her puffy eyes fixing on mine with nothing but desperation in them.

“All my life,” I shrug, waving my hand. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” she says, her voice rising. “You’ve had almost thirty years to get used to it. You grew up knowing it, learning about it. Understanding it, for you, is innate.” She takes an imploring step closer. “I found out I’m a witch a few weeks ago.Weeks, Sam. I’m trying to wrap my head around it. I’m bound to make mistakes.”

“You didn’t just make a mistake,” I say, hands curling into fists again. “You pushed away the people who want to be there for you. Me, Erica.Me. And you treated me like garbage.” My throat is raw with the anger I’ve been choking down for days. “You want Helena’s help? Fine. Ask her. Do it without me.”

“Sam—,” her breath hitches but I don’t let her finish.

I can’t trust myself to stand and listen to whatever excuse she’s about to throw. Without another word, I turn and stride back into the workshop. She made her choice. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was confusion. Maybe she has a damn good reason. But I don’t care.

I can’t care.

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