The Alpha's Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger. - Chapter 415

Chapter 415: The broken sanctuary II…

Lyla

I mean, the only way anyone could break into the kitchen at this point would be through the window and not the door. My eyes scanned the broken shards of glass, furniture and wood, and it looked too arranged to be normal.

In the case of a forced break-in, everything was supposed to be displaced from its original position, but even the glass that had broken had fallen from its spot on the kitchen island and landed in the same place a glass of its size might land.

I turned my attention back to the room.

“I can walk,” Elias said, and tried to stand. He went pale immediately.

Both Ramsey and Kyren caught him before he fell, and the two of them lifted him like he was made of sticks. Miriam led the way with the boiling pot and a supply of clean towels. I followed, one hand on the wall, breathing slow.

Halfway down the hall, Elias said, “They left something. On your door.”

Ramsey’s shoulders bunched. “What?”

“A mark,” Elias said. “Nine-pointed star with a split through it.”

My stomach dropped, and my fingers went cold. I saw the symbol again—bright against stone in my dream, it was so clear in my mind’s eye. “The star,” I whispered. “Gemini split.”

Kyren glanced over his shoulder at me. His eyes were sober now. “You’ve seen it?”

“In a trance,” I said. “Nymeris showed me. Three hooded figures and that mark.” I swallowed. “They were standing around a stone… like an altar. And I was on it.”

We got Elias into a guest room and laid him on the bed. Miriam set to work again on him. I hovered with towels and water and bits of sugar between Elias’s teeth when the pain became unbearable for him.

“Circe,” Kyren said. “Can you check the main entrance door for us?”

She nodded and left.

When Miriam finally said, “Good enough. He won’t die if he lies still and doesn’t argue,” Ramsey exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for an hour.

Elias tipped his head toward me. “Sorry for the trouble again.”

“It’s fine,” I said, and tried a smile. “Do you know who they were?”

“No, I don’t. To date, I cannot identify the person,” he said. “They moved like trained warriors. But that isn’t what scared me.”

“What did?”

“Their eyes,” he said softly. “Dead-lake eyes. Like something was looking out of them that wasn’t them.”

Kyren inhaled sharply. “They are Puppets. Someone is drawing their strings.”

“Who could that be?”

“Pick one,” Kyren said. “Sirens. A rogue coven. A child of your Dark One who got bored. Or someone smarter.”

Circe came back in, wiping rain off her face with the back of her wrist. “There’s a mark on the door,” she said. “Your star, Lyla. And another under it. A spiral cut by two lines.”

I froze again. “I saw that too,” I whispered.

Ramsey looked between us. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Kyren said, “they want her to know they know she knows.” He sighed at my face. “It’s a message. ‘We see you. We’re close.”

Something was wrong, and I could feel it.

Nanny was sending me on errands while the rest chatted, which was strange because Nanny didn’t even do that when I was a teenager, compared to now that I was heavy with twins.

Also, the cut on Elias wasn’t healing as it should have. He was a Lycan, if a werewolf would heal twice as fast as a human would, a Lycan would heal thrice as fast, but for the past thirty minutes, Miriam has been dabbing at the same spot, trying to stop the bleeding that I just stopped.

Surprisingly, everyone was suddenly chatting. Circe was reminiscing about high school to Kyren, who had a slight smile on his face as he watched her. Ramsey had lowered the knives and was looking on, occasionally injecting words into the conversation.

“Can you get me fresh towels?” Miriam asked again, interrupting my thoughts.

Fresh towels were downstairs. I looked towards Ramsey, and he wasn’t even paying attention anymore. He was more immersed in whatever Circe was saying.

“Okay!” I nodded, flashing her a smile and hoping that anxiety wasn’t visible.

As I passed by Circe, I pulled at her arm, causing the conversation to stop. “Hey, can you come help me with the towels?”

Circe wanted to argue, but I tugged at her hand forcefully and pulled her towards the door. As we went, she kept grumbling about how I couldn’t get the towel myself, and that was when I knew that either this wasn’t Circe or someone had swapped them out.

When we got to the kitchen, the babies started moving around too much. It was as if in the next second, they would jump out of my stomach. I clutched at the kitchen island, gritting my teeth to contain the pain.

Circe was opening the fridge and stuffing her face with ice cream. Didn’t she announce to the whole house yesterday afternoon that she was on a new, sugar-free diet?

“Circe!” I managed to groan out.

She paused for a minute, stared at me, and continued stuffing her face with the ice cream.

“The babies,” I cried out. “I need help.”

She didn’t even budge. She continued stuffing her face. There was no way the lady in the room was Circe. If that wasn’t Circe, then who was on the bed with me? The babies were moving so much now, causing me pain.

I managed to reach the walls of the kitchen and placed my hands along the wall, touching and moving to reach the kitchen door. But before I could get there, I saw Circe, waiting for me at the entrance. She had a leering smile on her face.

I stumbled back in shock. How had she done that? Wasn’t she just behind me moments ago?

“C-Circe,” I stuttered, trying to smile. “I just wanted to take the towels to Nanny upstairs.”

“Nanny?” she arched a brow.

“Oh, Miriam!” I supplied.

“Really?” she chuckled. Or you were trying to run away? Tell me the truth, I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re scaring me, Circe,” I tried to sound confident. “I told you…”

By this time, her skin seemed to be growing lighter, as if it were fading away. I placed a hand over my bump, bracing myself for the worst.

“Circe,” I tried again. “Stop.”

By this time, the face that was Circe had melted off and in its place stood a young girl about 18 to 19 years old, staring at me with a satisfied look on her face.

Instantly, my eyes flashed back to the face of the woman who’d confronted me after we were attacked at my old place a few weeks ago. It was her, no doubt.

“Hello, Moonsinger,” she waved. “We meet again.”