Chapter 77

**ARIA**

Sleep never came.

Adam and I had spent the night in restless anticipation, too eager to learn what Cassius and Leila had discovered. Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts raced—what could possibly be in those boxes? What had they found that was so important?

Austin had stayed as long as he could, but at dawn, he sighed and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead before pulling away. “I should be here for this,” he muttered.

“You have responsibilities,” Adam reminded him.

Austin grumbled under his breath, then turned back to me. “If anything happens, you call me. Immediately.”

“I will.”

But I could see it in his eyes—he didn’t want to leave.

After breakfast, Adam and I waited outside. The morning air was crisp, the sky pale blue, streaked with gold from the rising sun. When Cassius and Leila’s car finally pulled up, my heart pounded in my chest.

The moment Cassius stepped out, I was already moving. “What did you find?”

He smirked. “Good morning to you, too.”

Leila laughed, opening the trunk. “Give us a hand first.”

Adam and I each took a box, and the moment I lifted mine, I felt it—the weight of history inside. I swallowed hard as we carried them inside, my palms sweaty against the rough cardboard.

We set the boxes down on the living room table, and a strange silence settled over us. It felt almost… sacred.

Then Cassius exhaled sharply. “Aria, we need to talk about our family.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He reached into the first box and pulled out a large, rolled-up parchment. As he unrolled it, my breath caught. It was a family tree.
And at the very top, written in elegant script, was a name I had never seen before.

Alessandro Scava.

I blinked. “Who is that?”

Cassius looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Our ancestor. Two hundred and fifty years ago.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Cassius admitted. “I don’t think Dad ever mentioned him. But, Aria… he’s important. Really important.”

Leila carefully unwrapped an old parchment, its edges delicate with age. “He was there, Aria. At the meeting. The one where they decided to bury the prophecy.”

I inhaled sharply. “You mean…”

Adam spoke quietly. “Your ancestor witnessed the decision to erase the existence of hybrids.”

I stared at the pages spread out before me, trying to process it all. Alessandro Scava. A name lost to time. A man who had stood in a room filled with werewolves, vampires, and humans as they debated the future. And somehow, his words had survived.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against the ink. “What does it say?”

Cassius flipped through the pages, eyes scanning the text. “Alessandro documented everything. The witches’ prophecy. The council’s reaction. The fear. The arguments.” He looked up. “He knew they were making a mistake.”

My chest tightened. “Then why didn’t he stop them?”

“He couldn’t,” Leila said softly. “But he didn’t let it die, either. He preserved it. For us.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I had spent my whole life believing that I was just… me. A university student who had stumbled into a world of werewolves and vampires by accident. But it had never been an accident.

My bloodline had been part of this from the beginning.

I swallowed hard, staring down at the documents before me.

“What do we do now?”

Adam’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “We read.”

***

Rosalie arrived in a whirlwind of excitement, nearly knocking over a lamp as she burst into the living room. “Tell me everything! No, wait—don’t tell me. Let me guess! You found something huge. Something forbidden. Something that will rewrite history as we know it!”

Cassius raised an eyebrow. “Subtle as always, Rosalie.”

She waved him off, already making a beeline for the documents spread across the table. “You cannot blame me for being excited! Do you have any idea what this means? Ancient secrets? A lost prophecy? Forbidden knowledge?” She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “This is a historian’s dream! This is—”

“—a mess,” I finished, shaking my head with a grin. “And we’re trying to make sense of it.”

Adam, ever composed, leaned back in his chair, watching her amusement with a small, knowing smirk. “Would you like to take a moment to breathe before you combust?”

“Not a chance.” She dropped into a seat, snatching a parchment and scanning the text. Her eyes widened. “This is in Italian. Oh, my gods, I love Italian.”

“You love anything that sounds old and mystical,” Leila muttered.

Rosalie shot her a look. “Excuse you, some of us have a deep appreciation for cultural heritage.”

Ignoring her, Leila leaned forward. “Did you see anything important?”

“Oh, please, everything here is important.” Rosalie flipped through another parchment before gasping. “Oh my gods! Did you see this?”

“What?” Cassius leaned in.

Rosalie tapped the page excitedly. “It’s a reference to the witches’ vision! Multiple covens—American and European—saw the same thing! That’s unheard of. You know how stubborn witches are! We never agree on anything.”

Cassius snorted. “We’ve noticed.”

Rosalie ignored him. “The fact that different covens saw the same vision means it wasn’t just a warning—it was fate. This was meant to happen.” She turned to me, her voice quieter but no less intense. “You were meant to happen.”

A hush fell over the room.

For once, Rosalie wasn’t being dramatic.

I swallowed hard, looking at the family tree, at the ancient words scribbled across the pages.

I had spent my life believing I was ordinary.

Now, it seemed, I was anything but.

And for the first time since this all began, that thought didn’t terrify me.