Percular Pup

Telling Me

Able parted his lips, but no words came. He cleared his throat, trying again.

“Maybe I can help. Sometimes... the touch of a mate can make all the difference.”

Felix had been on his way out, but those words stopped him cold. He turned back, narrowing his eyes at Alpha Montenegro.

“What does that mean?”

Able straightened his shoulders. “I originally came to speak with Alpha Benitez,” he said. His next words dropped like a stone in the room. “Montserrat is my mate.”

Felix stared at him, stunned. “That’s not possible.”

Everyone turned to Felix as his voice faltered, his shock palpable. He struggled for a moment, finally managing to say, “He’s dead.”

A low growl rumbled from Able’s chest. “I am her mate.”

Felix shook his head firmly. “No. He’s dead. Buried. Six feet under.”

A sudden knock at the door cut through the tension. Felix quickly crossed the room and opened it. Cesar stiffened as a familiar scent hit him even before the visitor came into view—chamomile and spearmint. His wolf, Abu, stirred wildly inside him.

Standing at the threshold was a petite girl, maybe 5'3", with tightly curled chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes. She smiled, shy and hesitant.

At the same moment, Alice caught a scent—rain and pine. Her body tensed. Instinctively, she stepped back and tucked herself behind her brother, clutching his arm for security. The air thickened with a strange, lingering awkwardness as Abel and Cesar studied the siblings.

“Can I help you?” Dario asked, his gaze steady on them.

Ryan swallowed hard, nodding. “We were looking for Felix.”

Felix pointed to himself. “That’s me.”

Ryan gave a small nod. “I wanted to speak to you about—”

“Whatever you have to say to Felix, you can say in front of us all,” Dario cut in.

Alice tugged on her brother’s sleeve, clearly uncomfortable. They shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Ryan turned back.

“My sister… she wants to know what happened to Montserrat. When you found her.”

Felix’s shoulders sank as he exhaled. “I was on patrol when I saw a strange, bright light. I went to investigate and found Montserrat. Her eyes were clouded over, her lips blue… she was ice cold.”

Alice gasped and, without another word, bolted out of the house, sprinting back toward the hospital. Her mind spun. She had heard the stories from Amaya—those exact symptoms.

Everyone turned to Ryan, expecting an explanation, but he only shrugged.

“She’s probably going to Montserrat,” he said simply. “Felix, what you described—those are signs of something called a Witch’s Touch. But to be sure, she’ll need to find the mark.”

“And if it is a Witch’s Touch?” Alpha Montenegro pressed.

Ryan met his gaze. “Then we’ll need help. Fast.”

Alice skidded to a stop outside Montserrat’s hospital room, panting and lightheaded. The nurses glanced at her in concern, but she didn’t slow down. She burst through the door, startling Laura and Jairo.

Alice rushed to Montserrat’s bedside, gently lifting her hand and turning it over, searching desperately for the mark—a small zig-zag symbol. She checked her arms, her wrists, her palms. Nothing. Frustrated, she let out a sharp sigh and stepped back.

Jairo crossed his arms. “Mind telling us what you’re looking for?”

“Felix told me what happened when he found Montserrat,” Alice said quickly. “All her symptoms point to a Witch’s Touch. The only way to confirm it is to find a mark—a zig-zag symbol. It represents life.”

Laura immediately began checking Montserrat herself. She carefully moved the girl’s hair aside—and gasped.

“Here,” she whispered, her fingers hovering behind Montserrat’s left ear.

Alice rushed over, her heart sinking when she saw it: the unmistakable zig-zag.

“So it’s true,” Jairo said quietly. “What now?”

“We need to find a witch who can help us,” Alice answered.

Laura glanced at her. “I’m guessing you know one?”

Alice nodded. “Ever heard of Alpha Adrian Henderson? His mate’s a witch. She might be able to help.”

Jairo frowned. “But he never leaves his territory. You’d have to lure him out somehow.”

Alice gave them both a small, knowing smile.

“I don’t need to lure him. He’s a friend. He’ll come. At least… I hope he will. Because if he doesn’t, the only other witch I know is Yvette—and that would only make things worse.”

The weight of that unspoken history settled between them, and for a moment, none of them dared to speak