CHAPTER 88: GET SOME HELP

Mira’s POV

The hum of the car’s engine was a low, steady drone, but it did nothing to quiet the turmoil in my mind. Roxy was focused on the road, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

She’d felt it too—the chilling, primal murderous intent that had rolled off that silver-haired man like a fog. It was a feeling I knew all too well, one that sent me spiraling back to a past I’d fought to escape.

That monster.

The man in the garage had the more aura of cold, obsessive control. More than him. The one who had twisted my life into a nightmare, the psychopath I’d barely survived. And now, Eleanor might be connected to someone just like him.

It had to be. Her natural silver-white hair wasn’t a coincidence. Only a handful of ancient, powerful lineages carried that trait, and they were all deeply entwined with the Shadow Cult. Eleanor’s search for her family was leading her straight into the heart of the very darkness I’d run from.

Her voice, small and defeated, cut through my grim thoughts from the backseat. "I don’t want to find my real family anymore."

I turned to look at her. She was staring out the window, her profile etched with a deep weariness. "Why the sudden change?" I asked, though I feared I already knew the answer.

"After what I heard... it’s obvious they’re involved in something terrible," she murmured. "Something bad happened when I was born. Dr. Silas was ’erased’ for a reason. What if I was part of that reason? I’d rather not know than find out the family I actually come from is... evil."

I understood completely. The desire to remain ignorant, to protect yourself from a truth that could shatter you.

But Roxy snorted from the driver’s seat. "So, what?Have you forgotten you need to learn to control your powers?"

"I won’t use it," Eleanor insisted, her voice trembling with a resolve I knew was fragile.

"That’s not how this works, Ellie," Roxy shot back, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "You can’t just lock a part of yourself away. It’ll fester. It’ll explode, just like it did at the estate. You need a mentor. Someone who understands what you are, who can teach you how to control it so you don’t accidentally become a killer."

She was right. Horribly, undeniably right.

"The only solution," Roxy stated, her tone leaving no room for argument, "is to find your family. Like it or not, they’re the only ones who might have the answers you need to survive yourself."

"Roxy, try to see it from her perspective," I said, my voice softer, trying to bridge the gap between her brutal logic and Eleanor’s raw fear. "What if her family is evil? What if she was switched at birth specifically to save her from that life? Finding them could be walking right into a trap."

Roxy’s grip on the wheel tightened. "And if we don’t, she’s a walking time bomb. When we reach that bridge, we’ll cross it. But right now, that’s the only solution we have. Unless," she added, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror, "you know someone who can mentor her."

I looked away, my throat tightening. I did know people. Old contacts from a life I’d buried. People who understood bloodline curses and inherited power. But reaching out to them... it was like sending up a flare.

He was always watching, waiting for a slip. I’d sacrificed so much to stay hidden—cut ties with good people, vanished without a trace. All to avoid being dragged back into that endless torture.

A cold chill seeped from the crescent moon necklace against my skin, a constant reminder. It was only half a moon. The other half was six feet under, buried with my former best friend, the one who had paid the ultimate price to save me.

But Eleanor needed me. I had seen the sheer, unadulterated panic in her eyes when her power had turned on me. I knew she hadn’t meant it. And I knew her. She would internalize this guilt, blame herself, and withdraw, thinking isolation was the answer. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

"We’re here," Roxy announced, pulling into the Serpent’s Kiss paddock.

The decision hung heavy in the air as Eleanor and I stepped out of the car. Roxy drove off to park. I looked at Eleanor’s pale, determined face, and I knew, i have to do something. I have to take a risk.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell Eleanor that I might know someone who could help, consequences be damned. But before I could get a word out, a voice cut through the paddock’s noise.

"Hey! You two! Perfect timing!"

Ben and Liam were jogging over, their expressions a mix of excitement and urgency.

I raised an eyebrow. "Timing for what?"

Ben looked at us, surprised. "Didn’t you see the group chat? Maxwell’s been blowing it up."

"We’ve been... a little occupied," I said vaguely, exchanging a quick glance with Eleanor.

Liam jumped in. "We’ve got a briefing. A lecture, sort of. We’re meeting with some professionals—elders. People with deep knowledge about curses, enchantments, that kind of thing."

Eleanor’s eyes widened slightly. "Why? What’s going on?"

"Maxwell said the tracks are evolving faster than anyone predicted," Liam explained, his tone turning serious. "New creatures are manifesting, things we have no record of. So we need to learn more of how to defeat them, and also tips on how this enchantment could be broken. So our whole team is supposed to meet with them. We have to be prepared"

Roxy sauntered up, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Prepared for what?" she asked, popping a piece of gum in her mouth.

"For something big," Ben said grimly.

***

We found ourselves in the quiet lobby of a building. We were told to wait on a long, uncomfortable bench until we were called. The air was thick with a tense silence, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

We were about to meet people who supposedly understood the supernatural forces we were facing. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would have the answers Eleanor so desperately needed, or if this would just be another dead end.

The door opened and a severe-looking woman in a sharp suit addressed us. "They’re ready for you. Remember, you will maintain respect at all times. The elders do not tolerate insolence."

We were led into a spacious room. Five elders sat behind a long, polished table—two women and three men, their faces etched with the wisdom and authority of their years. My gaze swept over them and my blood ran cold.

Oh, no.

One of the other elders began speaking, briefing us on the evolving threats of the track. I heard none of it. My entire focus was locked on him, my mind racing. When the briefing ended and we were instructed to mingle and seek individual counsel, I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to him.

"It has been a long time," he said, his voice a low, familiar rumble.

"It has," I managed, my own voice tight. "I had no idea you’d become one of them."

"I have been for some time. You would have known, if you had stayed in touch." There was no accusation in his tone, only a quiet sadness.

Master Harold. My old university tutor. He looked older, his hair more silver than grey, but his eyes held the same keen intelligence.

I forced a neutral smile. "It’s really good to see you again, Master Harold."

"And you, Mira. I would hug you, but..." he gestured subtly to the formal setting.

"It’s fine. I’d prefer they didn’t know we’re acquainted."

He nodded understandingly. "When I saw your picture among the riders, I had to see for myself. I thought you’d quit that life when you were in the university."

"I did," I admitted. "But... it can’t be helped. I missed it." I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "I need to tell you something. Something very personal. I’m hoping you might have an answer."

He saw the gravity on my face. "What is it?"

"You have to swear you won’t tell a soul."

"I swear."

"Even," I whispered, the words tasting like ash, "if the secret relates to a known enemy?"

He pondered this for a moment, his eyes searching mine, then gave a solemn nod. "I swear. I know you wouldn’t ask this lightly."

I glanced across the room to where Eleanor and Roxy were speaking with another elder. "My friend... she needs help."

Harold followed my gaze. "The grumpy one?" he asked, a faint smile touching his lips.

I gave him a chastising look. "No. The other one."

"What does your friend need that requires a sworn oath?"

I took a steadying breath. "She recently discovered she’s a werewolf. She’s trying to find her real family, but I believe they’re connected to the Shadow cult because of her unique silver-white hair."

Harold’s composed demeanor fractured. His eyes widened. "Wait. Her hair is natural?"

I nodded, my heart hammering. "It is. I need to know, Master Harold. Which lineage does she come from?"