Chapter 88: The Awakening
Trixy POV
I watched the taillights disappear around the corner, the black vans melting into the early morning light. My hand rose to my neck, fingers tracing the small tattoo behind my ear. It was usually dormant, a relic of a life I’d tried to forget. But now it tingled, warm and alive against my skin. Power I hadn’t felt in years stirred deep within me, and dread pooled in my stomach alongside it. That kind of power never woke without reason, and some primal part of me already knew our quiet lives were about to end.
James didn’t know. He had no idea that it wasn’t him who’d caught my attention, but the woman with him. I’d only seen her for a second - a flash of brown hair and desperate eyes in the doorway before she bolted, with James right behind her. Something about the shape of her face, the way she moved, had struck a chord I couldn’t quite name at the time. The men in black, wolves I could smell even from a distance, had cleared out soon after. My heart hadn’t stopped racing since, and my hands trembled slightly as I lowered them to my sides.
The apartment door flew open, and Bruno charged in, his fists raised, ready for a fight. When he saw only me standing there in the dim light, his shoulders slumped, and the tension in his jaw eased just slightly. Relief washed over his features, followed quickly by confusion as he took in my expression.
"Trixy?" He crossed the room in three strides, pulling me into his arms. "Are you okay? What happened?"
I pushed him back gently, though I let my hands linger on his arms, needing the reassurance of his solid presence. "Did you feel it too?" I searched his face, looking for any sign that I wasn’t losing my mind.
Bruno sighed, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his forearm. Among the other tattoos, one mark stood out - raised and glowing faintly with heat. I ran my fingers over it, and the warmth spread up my arm, settling into my chest like an ember catching flame. For a moment, neither of us spoke, both too stunned by the sensation to find words.
"What happened?" His voice was tight with concern, the same voice he’d used when we were children and something frightened us in the dark.
I sank onto the couch, my mind reeling with possibilities I’d buried long ago. Memories I’d locked away for years clawed their way back to the surface, refusing to be ignored any longer. "I think..." The words caught in my throat, refusing to come easily even now. "I think someone triggered the mark."
The ’tattoos’ weren’t decorations. They were sacred marks of the Old Kingdom, proof of our bloodline and the responsibilities we carried. Usually, the mark only appeared on males, but Bruno and I were twins. That made us both protectors of the royal family, of our country - a duty neither of us had asked for, yet one we’d never questioned. It had simply always been ours, woven into the fabric of who we were before we’d had any say in the matter.
I remembered the day the marks appeared as if it were yesterday. We were five, standing before the village priest as he performed the ritual, binding us to our charge. My skin had burned that day too, though nothing like the searing heat I felt now. The princess was only three then - a happy, squirming toddler with curious eyes that missed nothing. I could still hear her laughter, bright and unburdened, echoing off the temple walls. It was the kind of sound that made even the most solemn ceremony feel lighter.
The faces of her parents, the king and queen, had faded from my memory, but I remembered her perfectly. Those brown curls framing an angelic face, the small dimple that appeared whenever she smiled. I remembered my vow to protect her, to take over our father’s duty when we came of age, and the weight of that promise settling onto my small shoulders like it belonged there. Even at five, I’d understood, somehow, that my life was no longer entirely my own.
Bruno had hated every moment of those early years. I’d smile now just thinking about it - all the times the princess and her ladies-in-waiting dressed him in frilly dresses or made him drink imaginary tea with his pinky finger extended. He’d scowled through it all, cheeks burning with indignation, but he never once refused, because even then, love for her ran deeper than his pride. I used to tease him mercilessly for it, though secretly I’d envied the ease with which she’d wrapped him around her tiny finger.
I leaned my head back against the couch cushions, closing my eyes. A tremor of hope and fear ran through me in equal measure, the two emotions so tightly braided together that I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. "I think our Princess Annalise is still alive."
James POV
The ride back to the hotel was silent except for the soft sound of Trishelle’s breathing beside me. I held her hand the entire way, my thumb stroking her skin, needing the contact to ground myself. Every mile felt charged, as though the air between us carried its own current, thick with things neither of us dared to say aloud. The men were dismissed the moment we arrived, and Sam whisked us straight to our floor, his expression unreadable, though I caught the tightness around his eyes that suggested he was holding something back.
Trishelle’s phone buzzed again, and she pulled it out to read a second text. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, and I knew without asking who it was from. Bradley. The name alone was enough to sour the moment, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat that had nothing to do with hunger.
She turned the screen toward me, and my fist clenched at my side. I forced a smile, though it felt brittle on my face, like it might crack under the slightest pressure. "Why don’t you answer that while I take a shower?" I needed a moment to calm myself before I did something reckless - like biting her right here in the hallway, consequences be damned.
The thought hit me like a physical blow. Mine. My wolf, already recovered from the silver poisoning, snarled in agreement, pacing restlessly at the edge of my control, clawing for release. He thought marking her was a marvelous idea, and for one dangerous heartbeat, so did I. The intensity of that want frightened me more than I cared to admit.
The elevator dinged open. I gave Trishelle a quick kiss on the cheek and headed to my room, forcing my feet to carry me away from her instead of closer. Just what the hell was I thinking? Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as I could stand it, hoping to drown out the urge to make her mine and mine alone. The steam curled around me, but it did nothing to quiet the howling need clawing at my chest.
Trishelle POV
I stepped into my room, but Sam caught the door before it could close. He leaned in, his expression conflicted as he looked at me - the woman who was supposed to be his Luna. Guilt flickered through me at the sight of his troubled eyes, and I wondered, not for the first time, how much this whole situation was costing him.
After the scene in the street, I could see the doubt in his eyes. He wanted to say something, to warn me away from James, to remind me of my bond with Bradley. But no words came. He just shook his head at my questioning look and pulled the door closed, leaving me with more questions than before, and an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest.
I frowned at his strange behavior, but my attention returned to my phone. I read Bradley’s first text again and decided to call instead of texting back. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I finally pressed the call button. After the fourth ring, he answered.
"Trish, are you okay?" His voice was tight with worry, each word clipped with barely restrained panic.
I nodded before realizing he couldn’t see me. "Yes, Bradley, I’m fine. And so is the pup."
His sigh of relief was audible through the phone, a long exhale that seemed to carry days of tension with it. "I’m sorry if I worried you, but I would have gone crazy if I didn’t know what happened to the father of my baby."
Three states away, I could imagine Bradley clenching the phone in his hand, his knuckles white, his jaw set the way it always got when he tried to mask his fear with irritation. He knew I was right, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Something was happening between us - all three of us - and not understanding was making him and his wolf restless. I could hear it in the strain of his voice, the way he swallowed his questions rather than voicing them.
"I know, Trish, I understand." I heard muffled voices in the background. "I have to go, babe. Get some rest. I love you."
I smiled, my heart aching with conflicting emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. "I love you too."
The line went dead. I sat on the edge of my bed, phone still in hand, staring at the blank screen as though it might offer answers. Bradley was my fated mate. I should be happy, complete, satisfied. Yet what I felt for James was just as strong, just as real, and the contradiction gnawed at me relentlessly, refusing to let me settle into any kind of peace.
I thought about all the years I’d known him. Even when he treated me badly, I was always so aware of him - his presence, his moods, his every move. I’d told myself it was fear, that I didn’t want to be picked on or hurt. But was there another reason, one I’d been too afraid to name until now? The question sat heavy in my chest, refusing to be dismissed as easily as I wanted it to be.
A knock sounded at my door, pulling me from the rabbit hole of my thoughts. Maybe I should talk to Lorenzo or Cynthia. They would know more about mate bonds and fated connections. They could help me make sense of this mess, or at least offer some clarity where I had none, some way to quiet the storm raging inside me.
I opened the door to find James standing there, a smile playing on his lips. His clean, fresh scent - pine and mint and soap - made my knees weak. He looked like sin and salvation all rolled into one, and my resolve wavered the instant our eyes met, every rational thought scattering like leaves in the wind.
"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice husky.