Chapter 376

Olivia

Less than an hour later, Layla and I were bursting through the front door of the villa. Clint, who was in the kitchen feeding the twins, nearly dropped the spoon he was holding. The twins, oblivious to the tension, giggled excitedly and held their hands out for me as we approached. Aurora already had applesauce all over her face, and Elliot was a close second in that race.

“Good god, Olivia, is everything okay?” Clint asked, clutching his heart.

I nodded, my eyes scanning the room. “For now, sort of,” I said.

Clint shot me a sideways glance. “Explain. How is Nathan?”

That was when I froze. This whole hex business had given me a distraction, but the fact was that my fiance was still comatose in the hospital. “He’s… He’s in a coma,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

This time, Clint actually dropped his spoon onto the floor with a clatter. He clapped his hand over his mouth, staring at me with wide eyes. “Olivia—”

“But there might be a cure,” Layla chimed in, noticing my inability to speak any further. “Clint, I believe he has a hex on him. And we need to find the anchor. Have you noticed anything unusual?”

Clint slowly lowered his hand, his eyes moving back and forth as though he was trying to remember something. “A hex…” he murmured, leaning on the counter for support. “God, I haven’t seen a hex inflict our pack in years.”

“You’ve seen it before?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It was decades ago, actually; I was just a boy. One of the families in town was said to have consulted a witch to cure their daughter’s cancer. When they couldn’t pay the price, she hexed them.”

My eyes widened. Layla and I exchanged looks, a silent conversation happening between us with just one glance.

The witch had threatened that if Nathan and I didn’t stop trying to take her down, she would leave us a ‘gift’. What if it was never the new baby in my belly? What if this so-called ‘gift’ was the hex, and I was just blind to it all along?

“Did they break it?” I asked, meeting Clint’s gaze again.

He furrowed his brow. “I believe they did, yes. But it didn’t come without its price. The little girl’s cancer spread rapidly afterwards. She died not long after. But it was months that she was inflicted with the hex; I believe the cancer spread because of it.”

Layla and I exchanged looks again, and a newfound determination settled in my bones. Months, Clint had said. Perhaps we had time. Perhaps, if we could find the anchor, we could stop this in its tracks—before something horrible happened to Nathan.

“We need to be thorough,” Layla instructed, not wasting even one single second. “Every room, every corner could be hiding the anchor. Leave no stone unturned.”

“Can I help at all?” Clint asked, worry lacing his voice.

I shook my head. The twins were getting fussy now, reaching for the jar of applesauce that Clint was holding with their chubby little hands. “Can you watch them for just a little longer?” I asked. “I’m so sorry, Clint. I don’t want to—”

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand. “You have life and death on your hands right now. And besides, these little tykes are a pleasure. We had all kinds of fun planned today, didn’t we?” As he spoke, he lilted his voice, and the twins giggled and cooed in response.

I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding, thanked Clint again, and then Layla and I got to work.

We started with the living room, sifting through books, checking under cushions, and examining every trinket we could find. We even took pictures off of the walls, taking the frames apart to check for any insignia or anything of the sort. But there was nothing.

“Let’s move to the kitchen,” I suggested, leading the way. We opened every cabinet and drawer, our search methodical and silent. The usual clutter of a lived-in home stared back at us, offering no clues.

“I wish I was a minimalist right now,” I said, a weak attempt at injecting the tiniest shred of levity into the situation as we searched. “I didn’t even know I had so much stuff.”

“That’s how it always happens,” Layla said with an exhausted sort of chuckle that sounded hollow through and through. “One second your home is empty, the next it’s bursting with stuff that you don’t even remember acquiring.”

We kept searching for a while longer, eventually moving to the dining room. But no matter where we searched, there was nothing. No sigils, no effigies, no vibrations from the amulet. Just the usual stuff one would find in a house: pictures, dusty books, and unused arts and crafts supplies that I once swore I would turn into a hobby.

“Nothing here,” Layla concluded as we finished up Nathan’s study, a frown creasing her forehead. We moved upstairs, our footsteps growing heavy. It had been three fruitless hours already and we were only halfway done.

The bedrooms were next. Our master bedroom felt uncomfortably intimate to search. I opened our wardrobe, rummaging through clothes and boxes, while Layla checked under the bed and behind paintings.

And, just as I was beginning to expect, every discovery led to a dead end.

“Olivia, let’s check the guest room now,” Layla said once we had officially exhausted the master bedroom. The guest room, the room which my aunt used to call her own, held a different sort of tension.

Growing up, my aunt’s bedroom had always felt like a forbidden area. It was always her special place, her place to unwind and find some peace. Children weren’t exactly in the mix when it came to that room.

I always wondered why she never slept in the master bedroom, but she once explained that it was too big and spacious in there; she liked the smaller room.

But now, as we walked in, it felt more stifling than ever.

As we entered, it became obvious that the room had been completely untouched since Edward had left. The bed was neatly made, the surface of the dresser dust-free. Everything was exactly as it should be.

Exchanging a glance, we began our search. We checked the closet, lifted the mattress, peered behind curtains.

But, just like the rest of the house, it revealed nothing unusual.

“Dammit,” I said, sinking down onto the floor with a sigh. “Nothing.”

Layla paused by the dresser, her gaze thoughtful. “Hexes can be hidden in plain sight,” she reminded me, her eyes scanning the room. Her gaze then landed on the dresser, and she tapped it with her fingers. “Help me move this?”

Setting aside my skepticism, I stood and helped her push the dresser aside, revealing a part of the floor that was usually hidden. And there it was—a sigil etched into the wood, sinister and not entirely unfamiliar.

“Layla!” I called out, my voice quivering with both fear and urgency. She bent down beside me, her expression turning grave as she saw the mark.

“This is a witch’s hex if I ever saw one,” Layla confirmed, her voice filled with worry. “And a powerful one at that.”

I knelt down, studying the sigil.

Suddenly, memories flooded back of the night I spent researching witchcraft online, the same symbol appearing on my screen. “Wait,” I said, clapping my hand over my mouth. “I know this sigil.”

“Do you?” She looked at me, cocking her head.

I nodded. “It’s the same sigil meant to increase a witch’s power.”