Page 33 of Alpha Charmed

“Where?”

“She trusted someone else. Someone who’s been keeping secrets even longer than I have.” Grandmother Peach’s voice takes on an unusual quality—almost respectful. “The wolves’ oldest elder. Mathilda visited her three days before she died.”

“Grandmother Sylvana Sternwolf.”

The name lands in the silence like a stone dropped in still water. Caius has gone very still beside me, his expression carefully blank in a way that suggests significant emotion underneath.

“Your grandmother.” I turn to face him fully. “Mathilda visited your grandmother.”

“Apparently.” His voice gives nothing away.

“You didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t know.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Grandmother Sylvana doesn’t share her visitors with me. She’s been alive longer than our pack has existed. She keeps her own counsel.”

“She kept Mathilda’s counsel too.” Grandmother Peach begins cutting pie—produced, as always, from nowhere discernible. “The complete journal. Everything Mathilda remembered. Everything she discovered about the Severing and how to undo it.”

“Can we access it?” I direct the question to Caius. “Will she speak with us?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. I watch him process, watch the careful consideration that makes him such an effective alpha. He’s calculating approaches, probably wondering how his grandmother will react to him bringing a witch into her home.

“She doesn’t see visitors.” His words are measured. “She’s very old. Very traditional. The last outsider she allowed in her cabin was Mathilda, and that was a testament to their friendship of many years.”

“But?”

“But she might see you.” He meets my gaze, and I catch a flicker of vulnerability beneath the alpha’s exterior. “If I ask. If I explain why it matters.”

“Would she refuse you?”

“She’s my grandmother. She loves me.” Something softens in his face. “She also hasn’t let me win an argument since I was twelve. Her agreement isn’t guaranteed.”

“Then we ask.” I straighten, decision made. “We go to her. We explain. And we hope that Mathilda’s trust in her extends to the people trying to finish her work.”

Grandmother Peach nods approvingly. “The old wolf respects honesty. Don’t try to charm her—she’ll see through it instantly. Don’t try to demand—she’ll refuse on principle. Just tell her the truth about what you’re facing and let her decide.”

“You know her?”

“We’ve crossed paths. Over the centuries.” Peach’s expression suggests those crossings were memorable. “Sylvana Sternwolf has forgotten more secrets than most beings have ever learned. If she’s chosen to share them with you, it’s because she believes you’re ready to hear them.”

She presses pie into my hands—warm, fragrant, impossible to refuse—and heads for the door.

“One more thing.” She pauses, looking back with an expression I can’t quite read. “Sylvana has been watching her grandson for a very long time. She knows how he feels about you. She’s probably known longer than either of you have admitted it to yourselves.” A sharp smile. “Don’t be surprised if she has opinions about that too.”

She reaches for the door handle and then stops once more, just for a moment. “The old magic knows what it needs,” she says quietly, not quite to us. “I was wrong to think it could be contained—by fear, or by force. Anyone who believes otherwise will learn what I did.”

The door swings shut. By the time the bell stops chiming, there’s no sign she was ever here—just an empty pie plate and a silence that feels like a dare.

Caius clears his throat.

“She’s not wrong.” His voice is rough. “About my grandmother having opinions. She’s been… invested in my personal life for longer than I’d prefer.”

“Invested how?”

“She asks about you. Every visit. Has been asking since the first council meeting you attended.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture almost boyish. “She says wolves recognize their mates early. She says I’ve been recognizing you for too long and refusing to acknowledge it.”

The word ‘mate’ lands between us like a live wire.

“And what do you say?”