Grandma
1228 Words
Regan's POV
The fire had burned low, throwing long shadows across the lounge as I stared into the flickering light. The house was silent — too silent now that Cadence was gone. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, claws itching, heart unsettled.
“She’s safe,” I muttered to no one but the emptiness.
Safe isn’t enough, my wolf growled in the back of my mind, his voice edged with possessiveness. She’s ours. You felt it — her scent, her pulse. She’s one of us.
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know what she is,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”
The memory of her lying in my bed flashed through my mind — fragile, beautiful, and utterly unaware of what had unfolded around her. She didn’t know she’d been inches from death. She didn’t know I’d fought as the black wolf that night. And she certainly didn’t know that when she’d touched my arm in her half-conscious daze, my entire world had shifted.
Her scent had been different — familiar and strange all at once.
Wolf, my other half whispered again. A rare one. I felt her.
But it had been faint, barely there. Like something asleep for too long. That made no sense. A wolf awakening this late in life? Impossible. Unless—
“Regan?”
Jar’s voice broke the quiet as he stepped into the room, his broad-shouldered frame catching the light. His Beta energy was grounded, loyal, always steady when I wasn’t.
“She made it?” he asked.
“She did,” I replied. “She’s at her grandmother’s. But something’s not right. I felt… her wolf. Faintly.”
Jar frowned. “She doesn’t even know about us. You’re sure it wasn’t residual energy from the attack?”
I shook my head. “No. It was hers. I’m certain.”
For a moment, silence filled the space between us — thick, tense.
“Look into her,” I said finally. “Everything. Records, family, background. Something’s off. She’s no rogue, but I need to know who she really is.”
Jar hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
Hours later, his knock came again. One look at his face and my stomach sank.
“What is it?” I demanded.
He handed me a folder. “She’s adopted.”
The word hit harder than I expected. I flipped the file open, scanning the sparse documents — the foster care records, the sealed adoption. Her birth parents: unknown. The official cause of death for the biological family: animal attack.
A wolf attack.
The report was nearly 18 years old. The names…
I froze.
The mother’s name was familiar — a name whispered in old pack records, long before I was born. Elara. The last white wolf of the northern line.
No. Not the last anymore.
“She’s—” Jar began.
“A white wolf,” I finished hoarsely, the words sticking in my throat. “The child of Elara and her mate. They died protecting her. She should never have survived.”
My wolf’s growl vibrated through me, deep and raw. She’s meant for us. She’s ours.
I clenched my fists, trying to breathe through the rush of instinct. She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know what she carried inside. And if the wrong people found out before she was ready…
“Keep this between us,” I said quietly. “No one else can know. Not yet.”
Jar hesitated. “And Cadence?”
My gaze drifted to the dark window, the faint reflection of my own blue eyes staring back. “We wait,” I said. “Until she’s ready.”
Cadence POV
Sleep eluded me. I lay awake in the small room my grandmother had prepared, listening to the soft whisper of the wind outside. The forest murmured beyond the window — alive in a way that made my pulse race. I could feel it in my chest again, that faint heartbeat that wasn’t entirely mine. My wolf, stirring. Watching. Waiting.
When I finally rose and went downstairs, I found Grandma sitting by the fire, her eyes reflecting the flames. She didn’t look surprised to see me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted softly.
“I know,” she said. “There’s much on your mind.”
I hesitated before sitting beside her. “You said earlier… there were things I didn’t understand. About me. About my parents.”
She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed. “You deserve the truth.”
The room seemed to still, the fire crackling softly as she spoke.
“You were adopted, Cadence.”
The words hit like a physical blow. My heart stuttered, then resumed its rhythm in uneven bursts. “What?”
“Your parents — the ones who raised you — loved you fiercely,” she said. “But you were not their child by blood. You came to them after tragedy. Your birth parents died when you were very small.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “They said it was a car crash.”
Her eyes darkened. “That was the story. But it wasn’t true.”
The fire’s reflection danced across her lined face, painting her expression in shades of sorrow.
“They were killed,” she said quietly. “In a wolf attack.”
The words lodged in my chest, too heavy, too strange. “A wolf attack?” I echoed.
She nodded. “Your birth parents belonged to a world few understand. Your mother, especially. She was… extraordinary.” Her gaze softened. “A white wolf. The last of her kind.”
The air seemed to thicken. My pulse pounded in my ears, and that inner hum — my wolf — grew louder, insistent, recognizing something I could not yet name.
“What does that make me?” I whispered.
Her hand reached out, resting lightly over mine. “It makes you what you’ve always been — special. But it also means your time of pretending to be ordinary is over.”
The words sank in slowly, heavy as lead. My wolf stirred in my chest, stronger now, pushing against the edges of my mind. I could almost hear her voice — a whisper carried on instinct rather than sound.
You’re not broken. You’re waking up.
Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t imagining things.
As the truth settled like snow around me, I found my thoughts drifting again — not to the past, not to fear, but to Regan. His blue eyes, his steady voice, the strange magnetic calm he carried with him. I didn’t know why I felt drawn to him, why his name alone steadied my heartbeat, but deep down I knew: he was connected to this.
To me.
The fire crackled softly between us, and the world outside grew still. My grandmother’s words echoed in the silence.
“You are awakening, child. And when the time comes, you will find those who were meant to find you.”
I didn’t know if she meant Regan — but my wolf did. I felt it in the pull of my blood, the ache of recognition thrumming beneath my skin.
Something was coming. And I was no longer afraid to meet it.
- Writer
