The Letter

Chapter Two 

The Letter

Phina’s POV

“No.”

The word barely left my lips.

I began gathering the broken pieces of my camera. Shard by shard. Fragment by fragment. The glass sliced into my fingers, but I barely noticed. I scraped everything I could find into my bag, even the tiny pieces that probably weren’t worth saving.

It was stupid.

The camera was ruined. I knew that. But it was mine. I’d worked three months of café shifts to afford it. Three months of early mornings, late evenings, and every tip I could save.

It had been the one thing I had bought entirely for myself. And now it was broken. Just like everything else tonight. I picked up the camera body. The screen was cracked, but it flickered once before going dark.

I froze.

Those eyes flashed through my mind again.

Blue. Bright. Impossible. And the shape behind them. A wolf.

I stared at the camera. That couldn’t have been real. Could it?

I shook my head. I was exhausted. Hurt. Humiliated. My mind was probably playing tricks on me.

“You’re still holding on to that thing?”

I froze.

Caspian stood in the doorway.

I’d seen him around school before. He was one of those people everyone seemed to know, even if you had never actually spoken to him. And quite unfortunately, Alaric’s best friend. 

He looked completely untouched by the night’s chaos. His tuxedo was still neat. His dark hair was still perfectly in place. His eyes dropped to the camera in my hand.

I quickly shoved it into my bag.

“Go away.”

He didn’t move. His gaze shifted to my bleeding palms.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I didn’t ask if you would.”

I stared at him.

There was something unsettling about the way he looked at people. Not sympathy. Not concern. It was more like he was studying them. Analyzing them even. Like every person was a player in some chess game. 

“You’ve had enough tonight,” he said.

I laughed bitterly.

“You don’t know anything about tonight.”

“Neither do you.”

I frowned.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing.”

He stepped aside.

I walked toward the door.

“Phina Vale.”

I stopped.

Nobody called me that. Not anymore. Everyone knew me as Phina Delacroix.

Delacroix was the name we’d used for years. I’d asked my mother once why. She’d simply told me it was safer. She never explained safer from what. I turned slowly.

“How do you know my name?”

His expression remained unreadable.

“People talk.”

I shook my head and walked away. The last thing I needed was to be in the same space with Caspian.

The prom was still in full swing when I crossed the auditorium. Music shook the walls. Couples danced beneath the flashing lights, laughing as if the world hadn’t changed for anyone. I kept my head down. Nobody stopped me. Nobody asked if I was okay. I pushed through the emergency exit and stepped into the cool night air. The moon hung full and bright above Veranis.

I didn’t look at it for long. I just walked. The streets were almost empty at this hour. I usually found solace in the darkness, tonight, it felt as if the darkness was trying to swallow me whole. 

My bag weighed heavily against my shoulder, the broken camera inside it feeling like an anchor. My palms stung. My mind kept replaying the night.

Alaric. Flair. Caspian. The laughter. The words. You didn’t deserve me. I wanted to believe them. I needed to. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw something else.

Two blue eyes staring at me through the cracked screen of my camera. I stopped walking. I reached into my bag and touched the camera. What had I photographed? I pulled my hand away.

When I finally reached our building, I saw something sticking out of the mailbox.

An envelope. My steps slowed. The last thing I needed tonight was another problem.

My mother had borrowed more money than we could ever realistically repay. The debt had followed us for years, growing larger no matter how much she paid.

Whenever an envelope arrived, my stomach twisted. Another payment. Another warning. Another reminder that we were still trapped. I reached for it. Then stopped.

There was no return address. No stamp. No sender. Only my name. Not Delacroix. PHINA VALE.

My fingers went cold. I pulled the envelope free. Why would anyone send something to a name almost nobody knew? I ran upstairs.

“Mom!”

No answer. I pushed through the door.

“Mom?”

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Then I saw her. My mother sat in the old armchair beside the window. She was still wearing her hospital scrubs, her graying hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

Her hands were folded tightly in her lap. She looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what stopped me. It was her face.

She was staring at the envelope. Fear had drained the color from her skin.

“Mom?”

Her eyes lifted. For a moment, she looked at me as though she didn’t recognize me. Then her gaze dropped to the envelope in my hand. She stood.

“Where did you get that?”

“The mailbox.”

Her eyes widened.

“Give it to me.”

I tightened my grip.

“Why?”

“Phina.”

I’d heard my mother angry before. I’d heard her tired.  I’d heard her frustrated. I’d never heard her sound like this.

Afraid.

“What is it?”

She didn’t answer. She just stared at the envelope.

“Did you open it?”

“No.”

A shaky breath escaped her. She sat back down. I watched her carefully.

“Mom?”

Her fingers trembled. Then she whispered,

“They found you.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

She looked toward the window.

“I tried to protect you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I tried so hard.”

Her voice broke.

“I didn’t want them to find you.”

“Who didn’t you want to find me?”

She looked at me then. And for the first time in my life, I saw something in my mother’s eyes that scared me more than anger ever could.

She reached for the envelope.

“Give it to me.”

I didn’t. Instead, I looked down at the name written across it. Phina Vale. My father’s name. The name my mother had spent years hiding.

“What does this have to do with Dad?”

“They shouldn’t have been able to find you.”

“Mother, who are they and why are they looking for me?”