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Chapter Twenty One

Author: Marie
last update publish date: 2026-06-24 18:12:14

Amelia POV

The paper was older than I expected.

The edges had gone soft with handling, the kind of worn that happens when someone has folded and unfolded the same thing too many times in too many dark rooms. Sera smoothed it flat on the table with both hands, careful, like it might come apart if she wasn’t.

I made myself look at it.

The handwriting was small and precise, the letters slightly tilted to the left like the habit of someone who’d trained themselves to write quickly without being see
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  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Twenty Three

    Amelia POVWe crossed into Ashvale at half past ten.I knew the moment we did. Not from the road sign — the green county marker had been knocked sideways by something large and never righted, so it pointed at the tree line like an accusation — but from the feeling. A pressure shift, subtle and specific, the kind that happens when you move through a territorial boundary that’s been held by the same bloodline for a very long time.Old pack land. Old, and watchful, and not particularly interested in being entered.“You felt that,” Zane said. Not a question.“Yes.”He didn’t say anything else, but his hands adjusted on the wheel, and through the bond I caught the edge of his alertness sharpening. He’d felt it too. The territory was reading us.Sera had texted at nine: eastern boundary marker, blue mailbox, pull off before the bridge. I’m already here. Don’t be obvious about stopping.Zane found the bridge. Found the mailbox. Pulled the truck onto a narrow gravel shoulder behind a stand of

  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Twenty Two

    Zane POVI didn’t sleep.I lay in the dark for two hours staring at the ceiling of my room, running logistics through my head the way Coach Darren had taught me to run plays forward, backward, every angle until the gaps showed themselves. Who knew what. Who would move first. What we’d need and what we couldn’t afford to leave behind.At two in the morning I got up, pulled on a hoodie, and went down to the kitchen.Amelia was already there.She was sitting at the island with both hands wrapped around a mug, her hair loose, wearing an oversized sleep shirt that probably belonged to a previous semester’s hockey event pack giveaway. She looked up when I came in and didn’t say anything, which was one of the things about her I’d stopped trying to articulate. The way she never performed surprise. The way she just made room.I pulled out the stool across from her and sat.“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said.She considered the question seriously, the way she did everything. “I’m thinking a

  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Twenty One

    Amelia POVThe paper was older than I expected.The edges had gone soft with handling, the kind of worn that happens when someone has folded and unfolded the same thing too many times in too many dark rooms. Sera smoothed it flat on the table with both hands, careful, like it might come apart if she wasn’t.I made myself look at it.The handwriting was small and precise, the letters slightly tilted to the left like the habit of someone who’d trained themselves to write quickly without being seen. A set of coordinates. A short string of what looked like reference numbers. And at the bottom, three words in a different ink, darker, written later:Don’t come alone.Zane read it over my shoulder. I felt him tense.“These coordinates,” he said. “That’s not Silverfang territory.”“No.” Sera refolded the paper along its original creases. “It’s Ashvale.”Of course it was.I sat back in my chair and let myself feel it for exactly three seconds, the vertigo, the absurdity, the low roar of someth

  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Twenty

    Zane POVThe name Ashvale sat in the room like something with weight.I’d heard it before, in the way you hear things growing up in a pack house — half-sentences cut short when adults noticed you were listening, map references in documents I wasn’t supposed to find. Ashvale. Small territory, old blood, the kind of place that kept its secrets in the soil.Sera hadn’t moved. She was still looking at her hands, her jaw tight, working through something she’d clearly been working through alone for a long time.“This supervisor,” I said carefully. “The one who mentored her. Do you know his name?”“Callum Vare.” She said it without hesitation, like she’d turned it over so many times it had worn smooth. “He ran the investigative unit for almost twenty years. Respected. Decorated. My mother trusted him completely.” A pause. “Right up until she didn’t.”Amelia shifted beside me. I felt the bond register something cold and quiet in her chest, the same thing I was feeling. The shape of a trap clo

  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Nineteen

    "Where is it?" Zane asked."That's the problem." Sera's mouth pressed into a thin line. "She didn't tell me the location directly. She said the message could be intercepted, she'd been careful her whole life about that. So she gave me a reference instead. Something only I would understand." A pause. "She said the answer was in the place where she first learned to trust the wrong person."The silence stretched."That's not a location," I said carefully. "That's a memory.""I know. I've been working through it since I got that message eight months ago." Sera looked at her hands. "My mother grew up in Ashvale. Small pack, old families, the kind of place where everyone knows your business and nobody says it out loud. She trained as a detective there, the pack had a small investigative unit, more formal than most packs that size. She used to tell me about her supervisor. The man who mentored her, taught her the craft." A beat. "She said he was the best investigator she'd ever known and the

  • Fated To My Hockey Stepbrother    Chapter Eighteen

    I didn't sleep.I tried. I lay in my room with the lights off and the storm finally quiet outside and I stared at the ceiling and listened to the mansion settle around me... the creak of old wood, the distant murmur of guards doing rounds, the occasional low exchange of voices somewhere below. All the sounds of a house that was pretending everything was normal while something underneath it had fundamentally shifted.At four in the morning I gave up, wrapped myself in the oversized sweater I'd stolen from the back of Zane's closet two weeks ago and never returned, and went downstairs.The kitchen was empty. I made tea I didn't particularly want and stood at the window above the sink, watching the pale pre-dawn light begin to separate the sky from the tree line. The grounds were still wet from the storm. The grass looked dark and flattened. Two guards moved along the south perimeter, their breath clouding in the cold air.We were being watched from the inside and the outside both, and t

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