Page 45 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“What?” Griffin looks genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about?”
“Elina,” I say, the name coming out flat. “She told me herself about their relationship. I don’t want to get between them, so it’s best I leave now.”
Griffin’s expression shifts from shock to disbelief. “Elina? The lieutenant?”
“Yes.” I look down at my hands, hating how they shake. “She made it quite clear that they have a history together. That he cares for her.”
Griffin runs a hand through his hair, clearly troubled by this information. “I didn’t know,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “He’s never mentioned...” He trails off, studying me with newfound understanding. After a long breath, he nods slowly. “I see now why you feel you must go.” He rises from his chair and moves to his desk, where he opens a drawer and withdraws a small, wooden box. “If this is truly what you want, I won’t stop you.” He returns to me, holding out the box. “But I will help you.”
Surprised, I take the box from him. Inside is a necklace with a small, silver pendant in the shape of a wolf.
“For protection,” Griffin explains. “It’s enchanted. If you’re ever in true danger, break it in half, and Maya or I will know immediately. We’ll come for you, no matter where you are.”
The gesture is unexpected and touching. “Thank you,” I say, genuinely moved by his kindness.
“Promise me one thing,” Griffin says, his voice solemn. “If the treatment makes you worse—if you feel yourself truly fading—call us. Don’t face the end alone.”
I nod, slipping the chain around my neck so the pendant lies at the base of my throat. “I promise.”
As I rise to leave, Griffin adds softly, “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Fiona. And I hope my brother realizes what he has lost before it’s too late.”
I offer him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Griffin.”
I don’t say “I’ll see you soon” or “I’ll return someday.” We both know those might be promises I can’t keep.
“Hold still,” Maya says, brushing the dark dye through my pale hair with practiced movements. We’re in her private quarters, the doors locked to ensure our privacy. “This will need to sit for about thirty minutes.”
I watch in the mirror as my blonde strands disappear beneath the inky black color. The transformation is startling, already making me look like someone else entirely.
“I never asked,” I say quietly, “if you will get in trouble for helping me.”
Maya meets my eyes in the mirror. “Griffin understands my position. And this is your choice to make, not ours.”
When the dye has processed, she rinses my hair in the basin and then towel-dries it until it falls in damp waves around my face.
“The color suits you,” Maya says with a small smile. “Very striking.”
The stranger in the mirror stares back at me. Those are still my features, but now they are framed by midnight black instead of pale blonde. I almost don’t recognize myself.
While my hair finishes drying, Maya produces a leather portfolio and sets it on the table between us. “These are for you,” she says, opening it to reveal a stack of documents. She spreads them out for me to see. “Identity papers, educational documents, everything you’ll need to establish yourself in the human world.” She points to the name on the birth certificate. “I’ve changed your name to make it harder for the Silver Ring to find you. Fiona Morgan—same first name so that you’ll respond naturally, with a new last name.”
I trace my fingers over the documents, marveling at their authenticity. “How did you get these?”
“I have connections,” Maya says with a hint of mischief. “From my human days. These will help you gain admission to college or find a job, wherever you decide to go.”
She reaches into the portfolio and withdraws a small envelope. Inside is a bank card and a slip of paper with numbers written on it.
“This is for an account I’ve set up for you,” she explains. “Once you’re settled, you can transfer the funds to your own account if you wish. Even if you don’t work and just want to travel for years, you’ll be fine. I’ll top up the balance every month, so you’ll never have to worry about money.”
I stare at her, overwhelmed by her generosity. “Maya, I can’t accept this.”
“You can, and you will,” she says firmly. “Consider it reparation for what was done to you by our kind.”
She hands me a small phone, sleek and modern. “My number is programmed into this. If you’re ever in danger, or if you just want to talk, call me. Day or night.”
Tears fill my eyes, surprising me. I’ve spent so long suppressing emotion that the sudden rush of gratitude feels foreign, almost painful. “Why are you doing all this for me?”
Maya’s expression softens. “Because everyone deserves a chance to choose their own path. And because”—she hesitates, then smiles gently—“I’m happy to have found a friend in you, Fiona. I’ll miss you.”
