Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 174

Chapter 174: Chapter 174
Seraphina’s POV

The highway stretched out before me like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

My hands gripped the steering wheel of my Honda Accord—two years old, cherry red, bought with fight money and pride. This car had working air conditioning. A sound system that didn’t randomly cut out. Seats that weren’t held together with duct tape.

This car was proof that I’d made it.

I glanced at the GPS. Two hours to the Morrison house. Two hours to face the people I’d been avoiding. Two hours until I had to pretend I had my shit together.

The city disappeared behind me, replaced by stretches of empty highway and rolling hills. The landscape got greener, wilder. More like the territory I’d left behind.

My chest got tighter with every mile.

I turned up the music, letting the bass drown out my thoughts. But it didn’t work. Nothing ever worked when I was trying not to think about things.

Three years of fighting had taught me a lot. How to take a punch. How to give one back harder. How to walk into a ring full of people screaming for my blood and walk out victorious.

But it hadn’t taught me how to stop feeling like I was constantly running from something.

My phone buzzed in the cup holder. I glanced down at the screen.

*Caleb: Mom’s vibrating with excitement. Fair warning.*

I smiled despite myself. Texted back at the next red light: *Tell her to save some energy for the party.*

*Caleb: Impossible. She’s been cooking since 6 AM. The kitchen looks like a war zone.*

*Me: Should I be scared?*

The highway gave way to smaller roads. I’d forgotten how quiet it was out here. How the silence felt almost alive.

My thoughts drifted to Ayla. They always did when I got too close to wolf territory. Like some part of me still expected her to be there, just under my skin, ready to surface and protect me.

But she was gone.

Three years gone, and sometimes I still reached for her in moments of panic. Still expected to feel her presence, her strength, her fierce certainty that we could handle anything.

Instead, there was just… me.

Except I wasn’t as fragile as I used to be.

I flexed my hands on the steering wheel, feeling the calluses from years of training. My arms were lean and muscled now. My core was solid. My reflexes sharp.

I didn’t need Ayla to protect me anymore.

I could protect myself.

The thought should have made me feel strong. Empowered. Instead, it just made me sad.

I still missed her.

The Morrison house appeared around a bend in the road, exactly as I remembered it.

I pulled into the gravel driveway, my tires crunching loud in the quiet afternoon. Before I could even turn off the engine, the front door burst open.

“SERA!”

Margaret appeared like a force of nature, already halfway down the porch steps before I’d even opened my car door. Her gray hair was pulled back in that familiar messy bun, flour dusting her apron, her face glowing with pure joy.

“Oh my goodness, let me look at you!” She grabbed me the second I stood up, pulling me into one of those hugs that squeezed all the air from your lungs. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

“Can’t… breathe…” I gasped, but I was smiling.

“Good! You need to breathe less and eat more!” She pulled back, her hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning my face with motherly concern. “Look at you! You’re so thin! Don’t they have food in the city?”

“Mom.” Caleb appeared behind her, grinning. “You saw her three seconds ago. Let her actually get in the house before you start force-feeding her.”

Margaret stepped back, giving me room to breathe. “Though you do look wonderful, sweetheart. Healthy. Strong.”

“You think?” I touched my face self-consciously. The fighting had changed me. Leaner. Harder. More angular.

“Of course.” She squeezed my hand. “Come inside! Robert’s been pacing for an hour waiting for you.”

The house smelled exactly like I remembered. Vanilla and cinnamon and something baking that made my mouth water. The kind of lived-in warmth that made you feel welcome the second you walked in.

“There she is!” Robert emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His hair was grayer than I remembered, but his smile was just as warm. “Our prodigal daughter returns!”

“Hi, Robert.” I let him pull me into a gentler hug. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re here now. That’s what matters.” He stepped back, studying me the same way Margaret had. “You look good, Sera. Really good. City life agrees with you.”

Margaret linked her arm through mine. “Come on, you’re helping with dinner. I won’t take no for an answer.”

The kitchen was exactly as Caleb had warned—a war zone of ingredients and cooking utensils. Three different pots bubbled on the stove. Something in the oven smelled incredible. A massive salad sat half-assembled on the counter.

“Wow.” I took it all in. “This is… a lot of food for four people.”

I found myself stationed at the counter beside Caleb, who was wrestling with what looked like homemade bread dough.

“She’s been cooking since dawn,” he muttered. “I tried to tell her you probably weren’t that hungry, but she gave me The Look.”

“The Look is terrifying,” I agreed, starting on the carrots. “I wouldn’t risk it either.”

“Smart woman.” He grinned at me. “So how was the drive? Any trouble?”

“Nope. Smooth sailing.” I focused on my chopping. “Nice to see the old places again.”

“So, Sera.” Margaret’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Tell us everything. How’s city life treating you? Making friends? Staying safe?”

“It’s good. Really good.” I kept my eyes on the carrots. “I moved to a better apartment last year. Nicer neighborhood. Actually has a doorman.”

“A doorman!” Margaret sounded delighted. “How fancy!”

“It’s not that fancy. He mostly just nods at me.” I smiled. “But it’s safe. Quiet. Good place to live.”

“And work?” Robert asked from where he was setting the table. “Still doing that fighting thing?”

“Yeah.” I braced for the lecture about how dangerous it was. “Still fighting.”

But Robert just nodded. “Making good money?”

“Really good money, actually. Enough to save. Build up a cushion.” I set down the knife, turning to face them. “I’m doing okay. Better than okay. I’m… stable.”

“Stable is good,” Margaret said softly. “Stable is very good.”

We carried everything to the dining room—a cozy space with a table that had definitely seen better days but was set with Margaret’s good china and cloth napkins.

“Sit, sit!” Margaret waved us to our seats. “Before everything gets cold!”

I sat between Caleb and Robert, watching as Margaret spooned enormous portions onto everyone’s plates. Steam rose from the lasagna, carrying the scent of garlic and oregano and cheese.

I took a bite and nearly moaned. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

“Of course it is. I don’t make bad food.” Margaret watched me with satisfaction. “You know what else? You look beautiful, sweetheart. Truly. There’s color in your cheeks again. Life in your eyes.”

My throat got tight. “Thanks, Margaret.”

“She’s right,” Robert added. “Whatever you’re doing in the city, it’s working. You look healthy. Happy.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just the sounds of silverware and contentment. Then Margaret set down her fork, her expression turning thoughtful.

“Can I ask you something, honey?” Her voice was gentle. Careful.

My stomach clenched. “Sure.”

“These past three years… have you been dating anyone? Met any nice young men?” She added quickly.

Heat flooded my face. “No. Not really. ”

“Mom,” Caleb warned.

“What? I’m just asking!” She turned back to me. “It’s been three years, Sera. Surely you must have met someone. A pretty girl like you? In a big city?”

I pushed lasagna around my plate. “I’ve been busy. Training. Fighting. Working. Not a lot of time for dating.”

Margaret reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. “Is it because you’re still in love with him?”

The words hit like a punch to the chest.

I looked up, meeting her kind, concerned gaze. “Who?”

But we both knew who she meant.

“Damien,” Margaret said softly. “Are you still in love with Damien?”