Contract Marriage With Alpha Snow - Chapter 235

Chapter 235: The Lineage Chapter 235: The Lineage *************** CHAPTER 235 ~Luna Star’s POV~ I pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up so she could meet my eyes.

“Your heart already knows, Tempest.

It’s your fear that’s clouding everything.

You’re afraid of choosing wrong, of letting someone down.

But the only way to move forward is to be honest-with yourself and with them.” Her tears slowed, and she wiped at her cheeks, her expression conflicted.

“What if I choose wrong, Mom?” “There’s no wrong choice here,” I said firmly.

“The only mistake you can make is pretending this will resolve itself.

You owe it to both of them-and to yourself-to face this head-on.

But remember this: whoever you choose, make sure it’s someone who sees you, who loves you for who you are.

Someone who makes you feel like you can be your truest self.” Tempest nodded slowly, her breathing evening out.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” “You’ll know when the time is right,” I assured her.

“But don’t wait too long, Tempest.

Life doesn’t always give us the luxury of time.” She leaned into me again, her body relaxing as some of the tension eased away.

“Thank you, Mom,” she murmured.

I kissed the top of her head, holding her close.

“Always, my love.

Always.” But as she rested against me, I couldn’t help but wonder what choice she would make-and what it would mean for all of us.

Should Tempest choose Ryland, it would be great but could her wolf stand for losing their mate?  The mate bond was strong.

Even if she loved Ryland, it could also push and disrupt any balance.  I just couldn’t figure out a clear path for her.

The other choice would be choosing both but that could cause chaos.

And not just between both guys, but someone whose thought could shake Tempest, her father-my husband, Alpha Storm.

**************** ~Zade’s POV~ Entering the pack’s archive, I scanned the rows of neatly stacked records and scrolls.

Walking further in, my nostrils were greeted with the scent of parchment and ink, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me.

Something about the recent events-the attacks, the subtle warnings directed at Zara-didn’t sit right.

I had to dig deeper.

I couldn’t bother my mother on this issue either, as worrying her was akin to making Zara worried.  I knew the threats were real and could be linked if I dug deeper, but I did not want that kind of fear rattling them and the pack.  We used a good 18 years to fix it.

We can’t return to ground zero.

The flickering light of the lone lantern cast elongated shadows across the shelves as I pulled out an old leather-bound ledger.  The cover was cracked, the once vibrant golden claw symbol now faded.

Flipping through the pages, I caught snippets of our pack’s history, but nothing substantial about the connection I was looking for.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, shoving the book aside and reaching for another.

Hours passed as I sifted through the archives, my frustration mounting.

Scrolls, maps, old council minutes-nothing seemed to connect the dots.

My mind churned with possibilities.  Why had the Golden Claw pack been targeted in the past?

And why was Zara always at the center of these threats?

Finally, my eyes landed on an unmarked box tucked in the corner of a lower shelf.

Dust coated the surface, and it looked as though it hadn’t been touched in years.  With my curiosity piqued, I dragged it out and opened the lid carefully.

In it were old letters bound together with a fraying ribbon.

The paper was yellowed and brittle, but the handwriting was still legible.

My father’s name, Alpha Gold, was scrawled on the top of most of the envelopes.

With trembling hands, I untied the ribbon and began reading.

The first few letters were mundane-updates on alliances, resource distributions-but then one caught my attention.

The writing was more frantic, the ink darker and uneven.

Alpha Gold, We know what you’re hiding.

The girl, Zia, has shown signs of her heritage.

She must be handed over before her powers awaken fully.

Do not test us.

You have been warned.

I reread the letter several times, my heart pounding.

Her heritage?

What powers?

My father had never mentioned anything like this.

I reached for the next letter, my pulse quickening.

Gold, The bloodline of witches runs deep in your family, and you know this.

Zia’s abilities are not dormant-they are growing.

If you do not surrender her to us, we will come for her.

The consequences of defiance will be felt by your entire pack.

My grip on the letter tightened.

Witches?  I thought back, trying to scan my memory of our lineage.  Who had been a witch?

I dropped the letter and immediately went to search the archives in search of the answer.

I found one of the books-ledgers.  And then, I got the answer.  My mother’s grandmother-Zara’s-our great-grandmother-had been a witch?

My mind raced, piecing together the implications.

Zara had inherited this power, and her awakening abilities had made her a target, even as a child.

My great-grandmother was the greatest witch alive in her time and till now.

Well until Zara was born, believing she inherited her powers on a greater scale.

No wonder my father had been so protective of her, keeping her in the shadows of the pack’s affairs.

But why hadn’t he told us?

And Mum€¦ There’s no way she didn’t know about this.

Another letter caught my attention, this one more personal.

The tone was resigned, almost sorrowful.

To my dearest Zaria, I fear for the safety of our family, especially for Zia.

The enemies we face are relentless, and they see her as more than a child-they see her as a weapon.

I cannot allow her to become their pawn.

Whatever happens, protect her, Zaria.

She is our legacy and our strength.

The letter ended abruptly, the signature smudged.

My father’s words resonated in my mind.

A chill ran down my spine as I reached for the final piece of parchment in the box.

It wasn’t a letter, but a diagram-a family tree.

The intricate lines traced our lineage back generations, and at the very top was a name I didn’t recognize: Lila Goldthorn.

My breath hitched.

Beneath her name, in faint script, were the words Witch of the Eternal Flame.

Lila Goldthorn.

Our great-grandmother.