241 The Ghost Beneath the Rose
Mara
The truth about Alaric hit like a blade to the gut, sharp, cruel, undeniable. No one spoke. We just sat there, hollow and stunned, finally forced to confront what we’d tried too hard to ignore.
Martha trembled violently, her body shrinking into itself like a frightened child. I had to take the phone from her hands just to calm her down. She buried her face into Vander’s chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to this world.
“Please don’t let him get me,” she whispered. “Please don’t let him come here.”
She sounded so small. So broken. If I’d ever doubted that she tried to take her own life, those doubts were gone now. This woman didn’t want to die. She was terrified of dying. And that realization shattered something in me.
Martha, for all her faults, didn’t deserve this.
Hew could her own daughter poison her?
Everything Martha had done, staying in that hellhole with Vander, enduring Alaric’s wrath, living half a life, all of it had been for Lacy. She’d twisted herself inside out for that girl. And this was her reward?
And then it hit me. Lacy crying during the whole ordeal, screaming in the hospital, clinging to her mother’s bedside… It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t guilt. It was performance.
Was she staying by her mother’s side to watch her die?
The thought made me sick.
“We need to get Martha help,” I said quietly. Vander nodded, gently pressing a kiss to her temple. He held her close, his arms wrapped tight around her as if trying to hold her pieces together.
It was the first time I’d ever felt anything for Martha beyond annoyance or disdain. She’d always been manipulative, cold, and exhausting. But she had never tried to hurt anyone. She didn’t deserve to be hurt like this.
Her flaws, her lies, her schemes, were a reaction to something. A way to survive.
And when I glanced again, something caught my eye. I’d never seen her back before. Not really. But now, held in Vander’s arms, her shirt slipped slightly and exposed the truth.
Silver scars. Faint but unmistakable. Long, deliberate lashes carved into her skin.
No wound but silver leaves scars like that on a wolf.
My breath caught. Then I saw it, the rose tattoo curled across her shoulder. It was beautiful, intricate. But not just art.
It was a cover.
Where Alaric’s mark should have sat… the tattoo masked it perfectly. Blended it into petals and vines like it had never been there. The artist was either a genius or someone desperate enough to erase the past at all costs.
She hadn’t just survived Alaric.
She had tried to erase him.
And now her own daughter had become the final betrayal.
“I’ll care for her for now,” Alpha Vander said softly. “Maybe you can help me send for a doctor in the morning.”
1/3
< 241 The Ghost Beneath the Rose
He hesitated, then added, “Your father, most preferably.”
And I understood why. He didn’t want this outside the family. Not with something this fragile. Not with her.
“My father isn’t a shrink, Alpha,” I reminded him gently.
+8 Points >
“I know,” he said, nodding. “But all pack doctors are trained in psychology and psychiatry. He should be able to attend to her.”
I hadn’t known that. But Vander didn’t lie about things like this, so I nodded and pulled out my phone. My father answered on the third ring.
“Mara,” he said, and I could hear the game on in the background. He was off duty.
“Alpha Vander said you’re a qualified shrink too?”
He laughed. “It’s part of the requirement for all pack doctors. Comes with the job.”
“We need you to consult for Martha Nighthorn. Privately. Vander wants you at the mansion in the morning.”
“I’ll be there,” he said, voice turning serious. I didn’t linger, we both knew this wasn’t the time for small talk. I told him I’d see him soon and ended the call.
As I slipped my phone away, I rose from the couch. Tiffany stood too, mirroring me.
“Going back to your wing?” Vander asked.
I nodded.
“Stay on this one, please. Your mates aren’t home. We should all be close. For Martha’s sake.”
He wasn’t trying to keep us near for his sake. He just wanted extra hands in case she broke again. I respected him for that.
“We can stay in Darian’s room,” Tiffany offered before I had to respond. I nodded along, though it sat heavy in my chest. I didn’t want to stay in Darian’s room. I wanted my own bed. I wanted to wrap myself around Lucian’s pillow and pretend he was still here.
But I didn’t say that out loud.
We returned to the left wing first to get ready for bed. Tiffany left to pick up Emma from Jennifer while I changed into my night clothes. An hour passed before we finished everything and returned to the right wing.
Later, in Darian’s room, we sat on the edge of the bed, unwinding the way only women could after a storm, by talking. Quiet, honest words. Just enough to breathe through the tension.
Tiffany was upset.
“He didn’t tell me,” she said, folding a blanket between her fingers. “He just left.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Darian hadn’t told her for a reason, and I wouldn’t betray that. He needed to face her himself.
She deserved the truth from him, not from me.
As for me… I didn’t let it show, but my stomach hadn’t stopped turning since Lucian left. I knew what kind of mission this was. I knew who he was going to face. And even though we had the upper hand this time, the element of surprise, I still feared what waited on the other end.
But I couldn’t let that fear show.
I just had to believe he’d come back.
Tiffany didn’t know the kind of danger Darian had walked into. If she did, she’d be hysterical. I held that truth alone. For
