The Silent Luna's Trial (Maple and Finn) novel Chapter 10

Chapter 2

Blair’s Perspective

The shopkeeper glanced briefly at my eyes, rimmed in red, but wisely chose not to inquire further. Instead, he swiftly shuffled through the paperwork, his tone respectful yet businesslike. “We’ll finalize all the documents as soon as possible. Once everything is set, we’ll inform you immediately about the departure to the island.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I signed my name with a steady hand and withdrew a sleek black card from my wallet. My movements were sharp, precise, and purposeful. As the payment processed smoothly, my hand remained perfectly still—no tremor, no hesitation—like the fierce wolf within me had finally ceased its struggle and turned to cold steel.

Outside, night had fully claimed the sky. Thick clouds hung low, heavy with the promise of a storm, and the air was sharp with the metallic scent of impending rain.

Returning to the pack house, I stepped into the foyer and was immediately met with the comforting glow of warm lights and the faint sound of laughter—familiar, yet somehow foreign to my ears.

My pupils narrowed instinctively.

Christian was seated on the couch, peeling an apple with slow, deliberate movements, a soft smile playing on his lips as he handed the slices to Carrie. His fingers moved with the grace and care of a sculptor shaping a delicate statue. Nearby, my three brothers sat like silent sentinels, their eyes alert, protective.

“Carrie,” Orion said gently, coaxing her, “take the medicine.”

“It tastes so bitter…” Carrie complained in a sweet, fragile voice.

Zayden immediately produced a piece of chocolate from his pocket. “This was your favorite when you were little. I always carry one for you.”

I stood frozen just inside the doorway, fingertips digging into my palm so hard that blood slowly oozed out—but I felt nothing. No pain, only an icy numbness creeping through me.

“Blair?” Christian was the first to notice my presence. He rose and approached me, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Where have you been all day? I didn’t see you once.”

There was something different in his tone—softer, almost like the man who had just sealed the mate bond with Carrie wasn’t the same one now standing before me.

I said nothing. My gaze slid past him and landed on Carrie—the sister who had once fled her own wedding, shattering my world in the process.

Christian followed my eyes and offered a quiet explanation. “Carrie’s sick. Terminally ill. She just wants to spend her final days with family. I know she was wrong to run away back then, but she’s still your sister. For your sake—”

“For my sake?” I let out a low, bitter laugh that rumbled like a growl. “Or is it because you never really let her go?”

His face darkened. “Blair…”

Before he could say more, Lysander, my eldest brother, stepped forward. Habitually, he reached out as if to touch my head but stopped midway, instead resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Carrie doesn’t have much time left. It’s not like our pack can’t handle one more person.”

“Yeah,” Orion added, “She’s been through a lot out there. She knows she messed up. But we’re family.”

“You’re the reasonable one, aren’t you?” Zayden’s voice came from behind me, edged with quiet pressure.

I clenched my jaw tightly. Inside, my wolf snarled and thrashed, desperate to tear everything apart—but there was no way to release that fury.

At last, I muttered, “Fine.”

A wave of relief and satisfaction spread across their faces.

“Keep Carrie company,” Christian instructed. “We’ll prepare a room for her.”

Once they left for the upstairs rooms, Carrie slowly rose from the couch and approached me. Her face was pale, but her eyes sparkled with something that didn’t quite match her fragile appearance—something almost triumphant.

“Blair, it’s been five years. I brought you a little gift.”

My instincts screamed at me to step back, every fiber of my being warning that something was wrong.

She smiled sweetly and pressed a small box wrapped in black ribbon into my hands. Carefully, she lifted the lid—and then, without warning—

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