The Haunted Legacy

Chapter 27

Lucia Lorenzo's POV

I'm in front of the west wing's entrance. Blaine, Jessica, and Clara were waiting for me to open the door behind me.

"Please proceed," Clara says.

I reach for the handle, prepared to open the door and perhaps reveal something I'm not ready for. I have a gut feeling that whatever we are going to discover will be extremely significant. I force the dull notion from my mind and concentrate. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

As soon as I walked in, I got the same emotion I did the last time I was here. It feels like a familiar location, but mostly it's depressing. There's a heavy sense of despondency in the air like the last people who lived here were in mourning.

"Oh, goddess," says Jessica.

"What is it?" I query her.

"This place is haunted."

"Who are they?"

"Unless they want us to know, there's no way to find out. It's probably a member of an alpha family."

"What absurdity! Clara remarks, "There hasn't been an alpha family here in ages.

"What is it you wanted to show us, Lucia?" Blaine queries.

"Follow me," I say to them.

They trail behind me as I enter the lavish chamber I had previously found. This room is the only one in the west wing that hasn't been tarnished by the melancholy that permeates the walls of every other space. Love once filled this space, a love that is still very much present.

"It's a gorgeous room, dear, but what does this have to do with anything?" Clara queries me.

"There," I say, gesturing to the painting covered in a sheet. I did my best to cover the slightly inclined sheet while I was slinking out of there.

Blaine approaches the artwork. Half of the image is visible as he pulls the sheet down with his hands gripping it.

"How absurd is that? Who among the creeps has a portrait of Lucia hanging in their bedroom? Blaine queries. Though it's obvious he hasn't thought things through, his rage is visible in his eyes.

"Blaine, please pull the sheet down," I say. He complies with my command and recoils in dismay.

With fear, Jessica and Clara study the painting.

"Is that correct? Is that who I am?

I gave a nod.

He gives a shake of his head and retreats further.

"It seems like me."

"Dangerous evil?" I inquire.

"I was going to say so."

Jessica remarks, "The artist must have done it incorrectly."

"What do you mean?" Blaine queries.

"You never looked evil when you were with her." Jessica's eyes sparkle with tears as she speaks. She approaches the artwork and gives the woman's face a gentle pat.

Clara mumbles, "It's unbelievable we didn't notice earlier."

"What? What topic are you two discussing?" Blaine queries.

"That painting was a portrait painted by Elvis De Romano himself," says Clara.

"It doesn't matter who the artist is! Why do they resemble us so much?" Blaine yells.

Jessica explains, "This painting is of Ronaldo and Dorothy Matteo."

"I am aware of them. Before the De Lombardi family, they were the dominant family, according to Blaine.

This had to be an alpha's room, I realized.

Before they went, they lived on the west wing. This must be their room, I suppose," Clara remarks.

"Ok, but why do we look like them?"

"I'm not sure. I've never seen anything like this before," remarks Jessica.

"We are aware that the goddess is engaged, though. She is responsible for the blood moon," Clara remarks.

Jessica responds, "Yes, which means that she wants you two together."

"Well, is there anything you know about them?" With a gesture toward the painting, Blaine asks.

Ah, I do enjoy a good love story. However, it was a little tragic," Clara remarks.

"Matteo Ronaldo was a vicious alpha. He made no allowances for mistakes. As his father had done, he wanted to make sure that nobody would destroy the Luna Ruby Pack," Jessica adds.

"He worked harder than any previous alpha because of this. He's been considered one of the greatest alphas the world has ever seen," Clara adds.

Jessica responds, "Yes, some even rank him higher than the Alpha King."

"How about Dorothy? "Who was she?" I inquire.

"Dorothy Matteo was a compassionate individual and a strong Luna. When she passed away, I think, I was sixteen. However, I had already met her, and I had a great impression of her," Jessica adds.

"Well, how did she die?" I inquire.

Clara and Jessica's eyes darken with grief.

"Luna Dorothy was attacked by the very own wolves she ruled," recalls Clara.

"People were angry about Ronaldo's father and all the things he had done wrong as an alpha," Jessica explains.

"And others were growing worried about the blind devotion people were showing the Matteo’s," Clara recounts.

"So they plotted their deaths," Jessica murmurs.

"And what's the best way to take out the king?" Says Clara.

"Take out the queen first," I reply.

"Exactly. They acted in that manner. It was a full moon when Dorothy visited the Temple of Elena. Jessica claims, "She was a follower of the deity.

"She was about to begin her prayers when she was attacked," Clara recounts.

"They attacked her to the point where it was certain she wouldn't survive," Jessica recounts.

"She stumbled out of the temple, a trail of blood behind her, and collapsed to the ground right outside the temple," Clara recounts.

Jessica explains, "That's where she lay until Ronaldo found her."

According to some, she held onto her last scrap of life for her child in the hopes that it would survive once his father discovered him. Clara says, "She already knew it was too late for her."

"Perhaps she was anticipating Ronaldo's arrival to bid him farewell for the last time," Jessica remarks, her expression turning sorrowful.

"How did it go? I ask, "The baby, I mean."

"Not at all. Dorothy was not correct. Clara says, "It was too late for her and the baby.

The thought breaks my heart. What kind of a barbarian would attack a woman who was expecting?

That's how she passed away after being viciously attacked by some jealous people, in the arms of her partner," Jessica says.

"This is not logical. Would Ronaldo not be able to sense an attack on her? Blaine queries.

"He would've if he had marked her. The attackers used this knowledge to their advantage. They knew the alpha wouldn't find out about the murder until it was too late," Clara says.

"Don't worry, he got his revenge," Jessica says.

"How?" I inquire.

"I'm sure you've all heard of the Blood Moon Massacre," she says.

"That was him? He killed hundreds of wolves because his mate was murdered." I inquire.

"First, he killed everyone involved in the death of Dorothy. Then he continued to kill wolves until the Temple of Elena overflowed with bodies."

Everyone knew about the Blood Moon Massacre, but I never knew the reason was about love.

"Why? They didn't do anything," Blaine says.

"They didn't, but Elena did. Dorothy was at her temple when she was attacked. She didn't help her even though Dorothy was such a devotee of the goddess," Jessica says.

"All wolves are children of the goddess. What better way to hurt her than killing all of them?" Clara adds.

"What made him stop?" I inquire.

"No one knows. All that we know is that he died mysteriously, and Monica De Lombardi took over as the alpha of Luna Ruby," Clara says.

"Gaius de Lombardi was also an Alpha. But Monica was the main ruler. Lunas are essentially female alphas," Jessica explains.

"I don't understand. Why would he die and end Matteo's long lineage? He just gave the pack over to De Lombardi," Blaine states.

"Yes, he did. But Monica was a De Lombardi by name. By blood, she was a Matteo," Jessica says.

"Everyone hated the Matteo’s by this point. After all, Ronaldo Matteo had slaughtered nearly half of the pack!"

"So he gave his pack to his sister, who was a De Lombardi. But technically, the Matteo lineage never ended," I added.

"Exactly! It was a political move. He wasn't going to let the Matteo lineage end, but he did it in a way where people thought so," Jessica says.

"That's true. Everyone calls Ronaldo the last Matteo," Blaine says.

I guess I could see why he was such a great alpha.

"Where do you think your family got their power from Blaine? Alphas aren't made; they are born. It's a position that only a wolf with lycan blood can have," Clara says.

"And Matteos were some of the first Lycans," I added.

"And this whole time everyone gives credit to Gaius De Lombardi, but it was Monica with the alpha genes," Blaine says.

"This still doesn't explain why we look like them and why Blaine and I were practically forced to mark each other," I said.

"Well, I guess this is something your wolves might have the answer to. It seemed like they were Dorothy and Ronaldo's wolves too when they took over your bodies," Clara says.

"I wouldn't suggest doing it now, though. The environment might trigger something in your wolf, and if they have full control, it might be hazardous," she warns.

"Let's give them some space, Clara," Jessica suggests. She gives me a knowing glance.

Honestly, that simply screams: use condoms!

They both left the room, leaving me and Blaine alone for the first time in three years. My eyes dart across the room and land on his. They are already fixated on me. I'm surprised to see the darkness that sits in his eyes. They look darker and haunting.

I think Blaine has changed too. Being separated from the person who is supposed to love you for eternity does that to a person. It doesn't matter if I trained harder than I ever have before or the connections I've had while I was here. At the end of every night, before my mind drifted off into deep slumber, it was his face that stuck in my mind. It was his scent that I longed to smell again, and his eyes that I wanted to see again.

However, behind it all was the tight feeling in my heart. No, it wasn't love; it wasn't even lust; it was hate. I loathed him for choosing Mirabel over me. I despised him for the relentless misery he put me through as a child. My wolf just wanted to see me, and I hated that she would hardly talk to me. He made me appear foolish, and I detested him for it.

For an instant—perhaps a split second—at least, I thought I was good enough where I thought I might finally get a look from someone on this planet.

Someone who would show me love without asking.

His optimism has made me detest him.

I despise myself because I ought to have known better.