The Alpha‘s Personal Chef

Chapter 7: The Roots Remember

Ella found the old trowel she had left by the stone wall and began to dig. The morning sun climbed higher, warming her back through her chef's coat. Behind her, she heard Dorian shift his weight but he did not leave. He did not offer to help. He simply stood and watched, a silent witness to whatever she would find.

Her fingers found stones and roots and the dried stems of long-dead herbs. She set each one aside carefully. Her nails were packed with dark soil. Her knees ached against the cold ground. She thought of her father teaching her to knead dough. His hands over hers, warm and patient. He had never told her about his mother. Maybe he had not known how. Maybe he had been waiting for her to find out on her own.

The trowel struck something that was not stone and not root. Wood. Old wood, softened by years in the damp earth but still solid. She cleared the soil around it with her fingers until she could lift it free. A small box, no larger than her two hands pressed together, wrapped in oilcloth that crumbled at her touch. The cloth had been treated with wax and herbs, something that had held the damp at bay for all these years. Her grandmother had sealed it well.

She set the box on the ground before her. Her hands were trembling. She lifted the lid. Inside lay a roll of parchment, yellowed and dry but intact, covered edge to edge in the same symbols that marked the silver spoon and her father's notebook. And beneath the parchment, a single folded sheet of paper was written in English.

Behind her, she heard Dorian's breath catch. He had known something was buried here. He had not known what.

She unfolded the letter. The ink had faded to brown but every word was still legible.

My name is Mira Hartley. If you are reading this, you are my blood. I buried this here because the earth was the only thing I trusted. Not the Vex family. Not the Ironclaw. Not any wolf who would use what I know to destroy instead of heal.

I am hunted. I will not live long enough to teach you myself. So I leave you this. The parchment contains everything. Every recipe. Every technique. Every secret of the Moonbound chefs that was passed down through our family for generations. It is written in the old symbols so that only our blood can learn it. You will understand them when you are ready. The knowledge will come.

Now you must choose. You can burn this parchment. You can bury it again. You can let the Moonbound secrets die with me. No one would blame you. Our family has paid enough for this knowledge.

Or you can learn it. You can decide what it means to be Moonbound in a world that has forgotten us. You can use it to heal or you can use it to destroy. I chose healing. The Vex family wanted more. The Ironclaw wanted everything. I gave them nothing. I am giving you everything.

Choose wisely. And remember: food can feed the hungry or feed the greedy. The choice is always yours.

Ella set the letter down. Her hands were no longer trembling. She looked at the garden around her. The basil she had planted. The rosemary she had pruned. The thyme spreads low across the dark soil. Her grandmother had touched this same earth. Her grandmother had made her choice. Now it was her turn.

She put the parchment back in the box. She put the letter back in the box. She closed the lid and held it against her chest.

"I am going to learn it," she said. Her voice was steady. "Not for you. Not for your pack. For her. And for me."

Dorian said nothing. But his hand, hanging at his side, uncurled. As if he had been bracing for her to choose otherwise.

She walked back to the house with the box in her arms. She went to her room and closed the door. She opened her father's notebook to the last page. The symbols she had stared at for years without understanding. She placed the parchment beside it. Her left hand rested on her father's notebook, her right on her grandmother's scroll.

The symbols began to blur, then sharpen. A warmth spread from her palms into the paper. She did not know how she knew, but she knew. The first line read: Let those who feed the wolf remember that the wolf also feeds the moon.

She read it again. And again. And for the first time since she had arrived at Vex Manor, she felt like she was not running from something. She was running toward it.