CHAPTER 9 — THE RING FROM MY FIRST LIFE

The black ring still felt warm under my fingertips as I set it on the table. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. There was a tiny crescent moon carved into the surface. The exact same mark I’d seen on the assassin who tried to kill me—same one I remembered from the night of my execution in my first life. I really couldn’t ignore it now.

Everything had changed ever since I came back. My brother survived. Darius actually remembered my death. Someone else figured out I’d changed what was supposed to happen. And now, this ring had carried over from one life into another.

I reached for it, but before my fingers made contact, the door swung open. Darius walked in.

My heart just betrayed me right away. Suddenly I was thinking about his mouth on mine, his hand pressed against my waist, and the sound of his voice afterward. I wanted to kiss him again. Damn it—I looked away fast.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“So are you,” I shot back.

He nodded toward the ring. “At that.”

“I wasn’t talking about the ring.”

Heat crept up my neck.

Darius walked closer. “You’re avoiding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’ve already looked at me twice since I entered.”

“I looked because you’re right in front of my face.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Good.”

I frowned. “Why is that good?”

“Because you’re finally talking to me like yourself again.”

That threw me for a second. I looked right at him. We just stood there, neither of us saying anything.

Eventually, his focus dropped to the table. The teasing slipped away.

“What did you find?”

I slid the ring toward him. “This.”

His expression hardened. “You kept it?”

“Of course I did.”

“Seren, that ring belongs to—”

“You know who it belongs to.”

He stopped.

I leaned in. “Don’t lie.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

He picked up the ring and his thumb brushed over the crescent. Something flickered across his face—recognition, but also… discomfort.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked.

“The assassin.”

“I know that.”

“You saw it?”

“I saw the symbol.”

“And?”

He turned the ring over.

“There might be records.”

“Then let’s find them.”

He looked at me. “You should rest.”

I almost laughed. “Darius, someone literally tried to kill me yesterday.”

He nodded. “I remember.”

“And the assassin wore this.”

“I remember.”

“So I’m going to find out who sent him.”

He watched me for a few seconds. Then he set the ring back on the table.

“Fine.”

I blinked. “Fine?”

“I’ll help.”

“Why?”

He met my gaze. “Because you’re going to do it with or without me.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“It is, because stopping you is impossible.”

I smiled. “Guess you learned fast.”

—

The old records were stashed beneath the western archive. Dust covered almost everything. Most of these books hadn’t been touched in years.

Darius lit a lamp. I started picking through the old family records. The silence between us felt different tonight—not uncomfortable, just… tense. Or maybe aware.

Every time our hands brushed the same book, I remembered the kiss. Every time he stood too close, I felt his breath against my lips. I wished my body would stop remembering what my mind was trying so hard to forget.

After the fifth shelf, I glanced at him. “You’re unusually quiet.”

“So are you.”

“I’m searching.”

“So am I.”

“For records.”

He looked at me for a second. “I know.”

I looked away, cheeks warm. Damn him.

I tugged another book from the shelf. Nothing. Swapped it for another. Again, nothing.

Then—I spotted it. A black crescent stamped right into the spine.

My heart stopped. “Darius.”

He spun around immediately. I dropped the book onto the table. He opened it. The pages were yellowed, almost fragile. The first few listed names of ancient Alpha families.

Then I saw the symbol: crescent moon, surrounded by three thin lines. Beneath was a name—House Veyre.

I frowned. “Veyre?”

Darius’s face went blank. “Old noble family.”

“What happened to them?”

“They vanished.”

“When?”

“Long before my father took the throne.”

“Why?”

“No one knows.”

I looked back at the page. The symbol matched the ring, almost exactly. But below it, there was something scribbled—a handwritten note.

I leaned closer. My breath caught. There was a name. Elena Vale.

My mother’s name.

The room tilted a little.

“No.”

Darius moved right next to me.

I pointed at the page. “My mother.”

He said nothing.

“That’s her name,” I insisted.

“I know.”

I stared at him. “You know?”

His jaw tightened. “I recognize the handwriting.”

I squinted at him. “You’ve seen this before.”

He didn’t answer.

“Darius.”

He closed the book. I stopped him. “No.” My voice shook. “Open it.”

“Seren—”

“Open it.”

He did, slowly.

I stared at the page. Below my mother’s name were a bunch of entries—dates, places, names. Most of them were scratched out. Someone had tried to erase these.

My pulse pounded.

“What was she doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why do you know the handwriting?”

He looked at me. “My father kept records.”

My stomach dropped. “Your father?”

He nodded. “He knew my mother.”

That flipped everything upside down. My mother died when I was barely old enough to remember her. I always heard she was quiet, not involved in any politics. Just a regular woman taken by illness.

But this book said otherwise.

“How?”

He looked away. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“But you know something.”

“Yes.”

My chest tightened. “What?”

He hesitated. “My father knew your mother.”

I stared. “And you knew?”

“Not until recently.”

“When?”

“After I saw the symbol.”

“So you’ve seen it before.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

He didn’t say.

“Darius.”

He looked me in the eye. “In my father’s study.”

I felt cold. “What was it doing there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You expect me to just buy that?”

“No.”

His answer stopped me.

He stepped closer. “I expect you to understand that I really don’t have all the answers.”

I looked down at the record. My mother’s name, right under the crescent symbol. A woman I barely remembered, a woman who supposedly stayed far away from powerful families. But she was connected to Darius’s family.

“What did your father have to do with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“What were they discussing?”

“No idea.”

“Why’s her name in your family’s records?”

“I really don’t know.”

My frustration broke through. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s the truth,” his voice was soft—almost regretful underneath.

I stared at him. “Then tell me what you actually do know.”

Darius fixed his eyes on the page. For a few seconds, he didn’t speak. Then—

“My father knew your mother.”

I waited.

He looked at me. “But he wasn’t the only one who knew her.”

My blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”

He closed the book. No smile, no trace of the man who kissed me under the oak tree—just warning.

“Seren,” he said quietly, “your mother was involved in something long before you were born.”

My fingers dug into the edge of the table. “What?”

Darius glanced at the dark shelves. “I don’t know yet.”

I swallowed. “Then who does?”

He met my eyes. For the first time since I came back to life, I saw actual fear in his.

“That’s what we need to find out.”

I stared at the black crescent ring. The symbol didn’t feel like a clue anymore. It felt like a door. And somewhere behind it lay the truth about my mother—a secret someone had spent years trying to hide.

Now that I’d found it—someone might be coming for me next.