The storm found the sailor's Creek

"The Moonhunt is nearly upon us. It will be upon us in three nights. Lets hope everyone in the pack proves themselves worthy under the coming moonlight."

Serbian stated sternly, his bug-eyed stare focused on the open window.

His words hung in the air—a subtle threat that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Uncle" I stuttered, pressure clamping my chest. "I... don't... seem... to understand what you mean?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Caroline. You're my niece—my younger brother's daughter. Surely, you wouldn't want to disappoint your uncle or put the pack at risk, would you?"

We were in his ridiculously lavish living room, designed with plush white couches and gleaming marble floors.

"Of course not," I murmured softly. My eyes fixed on the jade teapot on the center table.

Serbian turned his gaze toward me, his dark presence suddenly looming.

"Good. Tell your father—Grimsburg—to meet me at Le Restaurant, our usual spot. I have something to discuss with him."

He took a seat on the couch across from me and looked at my face with interest.

A knot of uneasiness tightened in my stomach as I nodded.

I felt so uncomfortable I couldn't even flinch. I made up my mind to leave.

"Uncle, I really need to go," I stood up quickly with a little uneasiness.

He likewise stood up and gave me a stern look, as though he were staring into my soul.

"You haven’t been having communications or dealings with the Ironhearts, have you?"

"Uncle, how could you even say that?" I gave him my best innocent frown. "I would never betray our clan."

"Good," he replied skeptically, fastening the robe that had come loose slightly.

"Goodbye, Uncle. I have work to attend to."

Grabbing my purse that lay on the sofa beside me, I left in haste.

BANG!

The door slammed shut behind me, the force echoing in the silence.

"Hmmmmm," I sighed, a feeling of tranquility.

"Oh, I hope things won’t get worse from here," I murmured to myself as I walked through the dark passage leading to the front porch.

Whatever Serbian suspected, he had no idea who Kent was. That was my secret.

I felt a chill of fear descend.

What if I was wrong? What if he knew about Kent? The thought alone made me feel sick.

Leaving the mansion, I walked to my beat-up Mazda—the only thing that felt real in this world of opulence.

Driving into the city, a sense of threat washed over me.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Kent’s number.

RING! RING!

"Hey, sweetheart. How’s your day going?" His voice, warm and familiar, was a small comfort.

Kent…” My voice trembled, and I gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. “I think my uncle knows about us.”

A soft exhale came through the line, warm and steady like he was trying to send me calm through the phone. “Hey… slow down. What happened?”

I closed my eyes, imagining his blue eyes locking with mine, the way they always seemed to see straight through the fear I tried to hide. “He looked me right in the eyes, Kent. Like he was peeling my soul open. I could barely breathe.”

“You’re safe right now?” he asked, voice low and protective.

“For the moment,” I whispered.

“Then listen to me,” he said gently. “Nothing he says or does can change what I feel for you. Not now. Not ever.” His words wrapped around me like an embrace I couldn’t see but could feel deep in my chest.

"Babe, no matter what, remember I am with you, in every storm....," Kent said, concern creeping into his tone.

"... On every tide," I replied, remembering the vow we shared they first day we met at the restaurant. 

" we will be together till the end of time "

Speaking in Unison and exchanging this vow, somehow made our bond strong.

"Don't worry, babe. We'll talk later. I'm in the office; I need to sort something out right now. Love you."

"Me too"

BEEP! BEEP!!

The line went dead.

"Love you too," I whispered to myself, though the words felt trapped in my throat.

After what seemed like a long drive, my car came to a halt in front of my workplace—Clayfoil Antique Store (a small building filled with new and old varieties of dolls, clothes, etc.).

I closed my eyes and gently placed my left hand on my forehead, deeply lost in my thoughts—an emotional void of the mind.