Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 36 **

Patricia

Startled, I stumble backward, dropping my mother's severed head with my eyes bulging out of their sockets. Shudders are running up my spine, and the brisk wind does nothing to calm my nerves. I watch the head drop and land in the grass, and then I stare at it until an icy hand is placed on my shoulder.

My first bone-deep instinct is to prepare for a fight, but Alice's concerned eyes make me relax. Even with Tiffany back in town, I consider Alice to be my best friend. I trust her a lot.

"What happened?" Alice asks in a soft tone. "I thought I heard you scream, or did I imagine that?"

I don't even remember screaming—that's how shaken I am. My body isn't working, and my mind is running in circles. Yet I lift my hand and point at the wrapped package in the garden.

"T-That was placed on the porch…" I stammer. I'm not sure if this is a dreadful nightmare. It seems like one, and I would do anything to wake up from it.

Alice follows my finger and walks forward. She bends down in the garden, and I close my eyes when she picks up the disgusting head with shaking hands. Her breathing turns uneven when she realizes what she is staring at, and reality settles in—my mother is dead.

"There is a..." Alice is holding back her tears. I can sense her revulsion from a mile away. No one enjoys holding a severed head in their hands. "Note inside of her mouth."

I can't look when I hear Alice taking out the paper from my mother's half-open mouth. Her lips are stuck in a scream, and I avert my eyes with hot tears puncturing my eyelids.

My mother and I ended things unpleasant, which now leaves me with a foul taste inside my mouth. We argued over pack stuff, and she threw me onto the street, yet I still love her.

The foul thickness of bile rises in my throat, and I throw up over countless colorful leaves. I don't even blame Alice for setting the head back in the garden, among the pumpkins growing against the house wall. The patting rain is doing nothing to conceal the awful stink.

"It says-..." Alice inhales, bracing herself as she reads the note. "You're next, Patricia."

My heart stops at the words written on the note. Discomfort is wrecking my body. How did someone manage to kill my mother in Winterbite territory? I don't feel safe, and I hastily grab Alice's shoulder to pull her back inside our home. A sudden feeling of someone watching us got me locking the door and checking it twice.

"What kind of person could have done something like this?" Alice asks in a teary voice. "This is awful and wrong on so many levels."

"I don't know what sick bastard did this," I eye the note in her hands warily. I'm sick to the bone. "June comes up as the first name inside my head, but this doesn't seem like her style. She hates you and Dior the most—why would she kill my mother?"

Alice stares down at the floor. "Because you're indirectly a threat to June and every other enemy of Dior."

The wind seems to stop blowing. "What do you mean?"

Alice's fierce eyes meet mine in the dim light of the hallway. "An alpha grows stronger with a luna by their side, especially if said person is their mate chosen by the moon goddess. So after you've finished the mating ritual with Dior, he will become a lot stronger, and so will you."

My heart falters. "Oh... I didn't think of that."

Alice sighs. "It's not a walk in the park being the mate of an alpha."

I stare down at my feet, aware of my heart squeezing in pain. I don't want to acknowledge the emotion. It would mean admitting that I like Dior, which I'm not mentally ready for—I'm terrified of getting hurt and Dior faking what he feels about me.

"You don't think Dior only says he likes me because he wishes to become stronger, do you?"

"No, I believe he likes you," Alice replies. "But... You really ought to call him because when I touched that head, I saw a vision inside my head."

A silent gasp escapes me. "Wait, what did you see in your vision?"

Hesitation is written on Alice's face, and she reluctantly parts her lips, whispering her answer. "Y-Your house... There was blood and laughter, someone painting your name on the walls and-..."

I can read Alice's expression and frozen lips like a book—she doesn't need to finish her sentence. I pick up my shoes and bolt out through the door with Alice yelling after me.

"No, come back!" Alice is crying behind me, but she can't possibly follow or stop a werewolf. "It's not safe, Patricia!"

I'm not listening to my friend. My heart is pounding with fierce determination, and even though I'm afraid, I shape-shift under the dark clouds. My hands turn into paws, and I land in the mud, leaping off into the forest without a hint of fear.

I have this sick notion that won't go away. If my mother is dead, then what has become of my father?

My lungs burn as I struggle to run faster. Every limb is straining, striving to bring me forward quicker. I can sample blood as I rush past trees and bushes until I'm staring up at my house.

The two-story house looks sad and haunted with its lights turned off. Not even the garden lamps are on, and the flickering streetlight isn't helping the situation. Usually, my mother is up late every night. She is a night owl, but now the house is crying from her absence.

I retake the form of a human, wincing at the cold air. It's gnawing at my naked skin, but I ignore it and walk up to stand on the porch. The door is hanging open, and the entire atmosphere tells me to turn tails and run as fast as I can. Even my inner wolf is fearful of what may hide in the darkness, yet I press on.

Barefoot and wary, I walk over the carpet in the hallway. The light switch doesn't work, and the paintings on the walls seem ominous in the dark. A red substance—blood, is smeared on the walls. My name has been written in big and small letters.

Everything about this place creeps me out, yet I keep advancing until I'm standing in the living room, staring up at my father's dead body hanging from a piece of rope.

"Oh-my-god..." I press my palm to my mouth to suppress a shrilling scream, sickened by the view. "Please tell me I'm dreaming... Yes, this is a nightmare..."

My father's arms are tightly pressed to his thin body while his eyes are glazed, wide open, and staring out into the nothingness. His stomach has been slashed and ripped by knives, leaving blood to drip onto the carpet beneath him silently.

Not knowing what else to do, I back away from the scene with tears accumulating in my eyes. My heart is going a mile per hour while my brain refuses to process what all of this means.

I still haven't swallowed the fact that both my parents are dead, murdered by someone unknown, and the longer I stare at the motionless body, the harder it gets to breathe.

More tears gather in my eyes. "No, this can't be..."

I take one step, then another, backpedaling until my back collides into something as hard as concrete. A scream travels up my throat, and I turn around with closed eyes, about to fight whoever is behind me. I lift my arms into a ready-to-punch stance, only to hear a gentle voice shush me.

"Hey-hey-hey!" My upper arms get seized by rough fingers curling around them. A scent of cinnamon and detergent washes over me, and then I'm pulled into a chest. "Patricia, it's me! Take it easy!"

I lift my chin and meet Dior's face in the dark. His expression is coated in concern, yet his eyes are kind, with his laughing creases showing. They remind me of delicate folds in a tissue.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a voice that doesn't sound like me. It's weak and broken, perfectly depicting my inner emotions.

"Alice called me as soon as you left the house," Despite the circumstances, Dior manages to throw me off with a charming smile. It's sweeter than honey and conveys a gentler vibe than I'm used to seeing him. He even smells nice. "You have my number inserted into your phone."

My eyes narrow, and I part my lips. For a second, I'm speechless until my self-defense mechanism kicks in. "You were my alpha—that is the only reason I kept your number."

In truth, I kept Dior's number because I didn't have it in me to delete it. No matter our past, he is my mate, and whether or not I like it, I think I'm falling for him, which terrifies me.

Dior winks at me. "Yet you kept my number after you became a rogue."

I glare at him, but once I notice the pain radiant in his icicle blue eyes, I realize Dior is trying to make me focus on something else. He is teasing me in an attempt to bring my attention elsewhere and not stare at the dead person inside the room.

"Thank you..." I mutter. My cheeks are burning hot. "For coming here."

Dior's lips curl into a smile. The cocky, arrogant attitude dissolves into thin air, giving him this gentle expression that makes me tingle all over.

"You're pretty cute when you're not being hostile," he says, taking my hand in his larger one to lead me outside. Those blue eyes glance over his shoulder to make sure I'm following. "Come, we shouldn't be here. Alice is waiting for us to come back. I will have the rest of the pack clean up this mess, and Elijah will take care of the police."

While part of me wants to drag away my hand from his and snarl at him, another wants to be with him. My palm is tickling from Dior's kind touch, and my heart flutters as if it wants to tell me to give up on trying to avoid fate. I like him.

My lips part with a question I'm much too shy to ask, and I stop walking, causing Dior to freeze. He slowly turns around to look at me, and I crane my neck, inwardly cursing my mate for being so damn tall.

"Uh..." My heart is drumming against my ribcage, and the only reason I manage to speak is that I'm scared, shaken by today's events. "Will you stay the night?"

Surprise flashes across Dior's face, and when he begins to smile, panic settles in.

"I mean!" I'm speaking nonsense, and I'm nervous. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but..."

Dior's eyes seem to laugh at me, but their intention seems sweet. Even his smile is gentle. "Sure, I can stay the night and keep guard if that will make you feel safer. It would be best if you rested after seeing all of this. I'm sorry this happened to you—it's so terrible I'm out of words to say. Perhaps I should stay over the entire week?"

Instead of arguing, I nod and keep walking. It earns me a chuckle from Dior, but I don't have it in me to bicker with him. I'm too happy about him staying over to engage in battle.