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Chapter 164
~Zara’s POV~
The darkness was suffocating, a thick shroud that seed to seep into my very being. I drifted aimlessly, my mind a ss of fragnted mories and emotions.
Then, the dream ca again.
This ti, it was sharper, more vivid.
I stood in the forest again, the dense canopy of trees towering above . The cold air bit into my skin, carrying with it a strange tallic tang that made my stomach churn.
My lifeless body lay before , twisted unnaturally on the ground.
The scene shifted, and I saw two figures—a man and a woman—standing over my body. Their voices were muffled, their faces obscured by shadows.
Then I saw it: a sign nailed to a tree nearby. The words, barely legible through the mist, sent a jolt of recognition through .
Crestfall Woods.
The na echoed in my mind as the scene blurred and shifted again. This ti, I saw a mansion, grand and imposing, surrounded by the sa forest. The whispers returned, growing louder and more urgent, until they were deafening.
I gasped, sitting upright with a start. My heart raced, and sweat clung to my skin as I tried to catch my breath.
But sothing was different.
This wasn’t Snow’s room—or any place I recognized.
The bed beneath was plush, the duvet heavy and ornate. The room was vast, decorated with deep mahogany furniture and golden accents. Soft light filtered in through tall windows, casting the space in a warm glow.
Where am I?
Before I could figure that out, the faint hum of voices reached my ears, muffled but nearby.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor grounding . My head still throbbed, but I pushed the discomfort aside, focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings.
Before I could gather my thoughts, the door burst open.
"Zara!"
Snow and Zade rushed into the room, their faces etched with worry. Snow was at my side in an instant, his hands gently gripping my shoulders as his eyes scanned for injuries.
"You’re awake," he said, relief flooding his voice.
Zade stood on my other side, his arms crossed but his expression equally concerned. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused," I admitted, hoarsely. "Where am I?"
Both n exchanged a glance and I suspected sothing was at play here.
"What can you rember?" Snow questioned.
I thought about it before answering. "I rember we talking, then an eerie person and... an explosion." I lifted my head, my eyes darting between both n. "Tell , what happened..."
Snow shook his head. "You are hyperactive. Relax and avoid any more problems wih your body."
I frowned, turning to Zade for a safe but he shook his head, dipped his hands into his pocket and began, "This wasn’t the way I wanted you to return ho," Zade said softly, his tone tinged with regret. "But you’re in our pack house. The Golden Claw Pack."
The weight of his words settled over , and I turned to Snow for confirmation. He nodded, his gaze steady.
"It’s true," he said. "After the explosion, we decided it wasn’t safe for you to stay in the mansion. Zade insisted we bring you here."
I looked between them, my mind reeling. "The explosion... What happened? And that figure... they did sothing to ."
"We’re still piecing it together," Zade said grimly. "But whoever they were, they targeted you specifically. That’s why you’re here now—where we can keep you safe."
Safe. The word felt foreign, almost out of reach. I try not to think too much on sothing out of my control. Focusing on Zade, I asked, hesitantly, "Can I et her?", looking at Zade.
"et who?"
"Your mother," I said. "I want to et her."
Zade’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of regret in his eyes. "She’s not here right now. She had to leave on urgent pack business. But if you’d like, we can take a walk around the house. It might help jog your mory."
I hesitated before nodding. "Alright. Let’s do that."
Snow helped to my feet, his hand steadying as I took my first steps. My legs were shaky, but I pushed through, determined to find answers.
The packhouse was massive, its grandeur both overwhelming and oddly comforting.
Zade led the way, pointing out various rooms and features as we walked. Snow stayed close by my side all the way.
From how he looked at everything, I was sure he too hadn’t been here.
And when I asked, I realized Zade had his personal family house elsewhere; that was the place Snow knew.
The halls were lined with portraits—images of past Alphas and notable pack mbers. The further we walked, the more familiar the surroundings felt, though I couldn’t place why.
When we reached the top of a grand staircase, I froze.
My gaze landed on a large portrait hanging on the wall, its subject a strikingly beautiful woman with piercing eyes and an air of regality.
My jaw dropped, shock coursing through as I stared at the painting.
"That’s..." I started, my voice barely above a whisper.
Snow stepped closer, his own expression mirroring my disbelief. "That’s..."
At the sa ti, we both spoke.
"That’s Zara."
"That’s ."
Zade chuckled, his voice breaking through the tension. "No, you’re both wrong." Snow and I turned to him, confusion etched on our faces. "That’s our mother," Zade said with a knowing smile.
My breath caught. The resemblance was uncanny—the sa features, the sa piercing gaze. It was like staring into a mirror of what I might look like in the years to co.
"That can’t be," I whispered, my mind struggling to comprehend.
"It is," Zade said firmly. "You’ve always looked like her. That’s why I knew the mont I saw you. You’re her daughter—my sister."
I turned to Snow, searching his face for... sothing. His eyes were wide, and his lips parted in shock. He shook his head slowly, as though trying to make sense of it all.
Then I saw him looking elsewhere. I followed his line of sight and to my utter shock... this was even more breathtaking than before.
It was a picture of a young lady about the sa age as I was. I was staring at . Zade’s laughter brought back as his words lingered in my ear. "That, Zara is our mother when she was about your age."
"Zara," Snow said finally, his voice soft but steady. "This changes everything."
I didn’t respond, my gaze drifting back to the portrait. The woman stared back at , her expression calm and composed, yet there was a hint of sothing in her eyes—sothing I couldn’t quite place.
"Mother." The words felt foreign but nit strange and almost imdiately I was greeted with a mory of a little girl happily jumping about in this particular place near the portrait.
Then, I saw a won walk up to her with pure grace and elegance in her step as she lifted the young girl, pointing to the picture.
Their laughter was infectious. I found myself smiling like a fool as tears rolled down my cheeks. That was and that was my mother.
"You really grew up to look exactly like her," Astrid chid internally.
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