Semua Bab THE WEREWOLF AND VAMPIRE'S MATE: Bab 21 - Bab 30

AURORA'S POV: I finished taking my bath a while ago in my room and left Cali there. I wanted to ask her to come along but I remembered that not only is it not my place to invite her to someone else's home, something 'weird' might happen and I don't want her to be dragged into this whole situation. She was even talking about going to hang out with one of the guys she met on the plane yesterday. Apparently, they wanted to hook up. Typical Cali. I did remind her not to get pregnant because I wasn't ready to start baby sitting. Her godfather would also tear the guy to shreds... Anyways, I am now on my way to Jon's room. The room is quiet except for the faint sound of fingers on glass and Arc’s keyboard clicking steadily across the room. I step inside and pause, my eyes locking briefly on Arc. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, laptop perched on his knees, eyes scanning the screen with laser focus. His brows are slightly drawn, lips tight. He looks… intense. But

Aurora's pov: I didn't die of hunger. I'm very much alive thanks to the pancakes Jon made for us. I want to eat more but I have to pretend to be demure. We’re all sitting in silence now, bellies full and hearts still tangled in confusion. The movie playing on the TV is some random rom-com Arc picked probably to distract me. I've accepted that he can be sweet sometimes. Key word: sometimes. I’m nestled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath me, nursing a cup of tea that’s gone lukewarm. Jon lounges on the floor, his back to the couch, close enough that I can feel his warmth. Arc is sprawled on the other side of the couch, arms crossed, pretending to watch the screen but really just stealing glances at me every few minutes. None of us are saying anything. The air still feels thick like the answers we need are hiding just behind the silence. Arc is the first to stir. He shifts forward, lips parting like he’s finally going to speak.But then, a voice come

Aurora’s POVThe cold bites into my skin as I run. My feet pound against the pavement, faster than my thoughts, but not fast enough to outrun them. They scream in my ears, louder than the wind, louder than Loni’s voice, louder than the truth.Mavilla and Bruce…My lungs burn, but I can’t stop. Not when every step echoes it’s your fault. Not when every blink shows me their faces; my parents’ faces, etched into that damn photo, smiling like they weren’t about to die for a child who would forget them.Who did forget them. I stumble, hands scraping the edge of a stone wall as I veer off the sidewalk. Trees blur past. My vision spins. My heartbeat isn’t even mine anymore, it’s pounding like a drum summoning ghosts.And they come.Flash. She’s tall. Regal. Eyes like fire. My mother, no, Mavilla. Her silver hair is tied back as she leans over a map spread across a table. “They’re coming,” she says, voice tight. “We don’t have time.”A man beside her slams his fist down. His

AURORA'S POV: The hotel ceiling is cracked in one corner.It’s a small thing, barely noticeable unless you're lying flat on your back with nothing but your own thoughts clawing at you. Cali and the rest left the room a while ago in search of lunch. Celeste has been too traumatized to come back into the room. That's a win, I guess. I turn onto my side, the sheets whispering against my skin. The room smells faintly of salt, the ocean carried in through the half-open window but it’s not enough to calm the storm inside me.I squeeze my eyes shut trying to get some sleep and silence the voices but then the memories come. Uninvited. Relentless.First, Jon. I see him the way he looked that night on the school field; all broad shoulders and messy hair, laughing at something stupid I said.That stupid, lopsided grin of his.The way he offered me his jacket without thinking twice, even when the cold made his teeth chatter."You’re freezing, Rory. Take it."I think that was t

AURORA’S POV: The warmth of Loni’s home wraps around me like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. It smells like cinnamon and old wood- comforting, grounding. My heart is thudding in my chest like it wants to escape, but I force myself to sit, to breathe. Loni leads me into the living room. "Sit, darling. Make yourself comfortable," she says gently, her eyes still flicking over me like she’s seeing a ghost. I sit. My fingers curl into the couch cushion. I don’t know how to begin. I have so many questions but they all jam at the front of my throat like a traffic pile-up. Loni watches me with that motherly kind of patience, the one that says you can take all the time you need. I finally ask the question that's been echoing inside me since the moment I saw the letter. Not having the patience to wait for her to prompt me, I ask, "What was my mom like?" Loni’s eyes soften, and she smiles in a way that makes her whole face light up with memories. "Mavilla was...a firecracker. She