Cecilia’s pov
To make things easier, the four of us gathered around a small round table in the corner of the waiting room.
The air was thick with incense and quiet murmurs from the consultation booths nearby, but our corner felt oddly tense—like we were planning a heist instead of a rescue.
I’d written: Harper seems safe based on what that girl said, but she’s acting strangely. I can’t figure out why.
Alpha Sebastian had responded simply: Find her first. Ensure safety.
That was it. No overthinking, no second-guessing—just action.
I gave a small nod, already feeling steadier with him beside me.
Tang had scribbled back in barely legible handwriting: Leave it to me, Alpha Sebastian. I’ll bring her back complete!
He added a dramatic winky face next to it, which somehow made the whole thing both ridiculous and endearing.
Yvonne rolled her eyes but smirked, clearly used to his flair for the dramatic.
She sat back gracefully in her seat, emerald nails tapping against the glass surface in a soft rhythm, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
It didn’t take long for Tang to disappear into the maze of corridors—and even less time for him to return, slightly out of breath but grinning like he’d just won a game.
He slid another note across the table: Harper is with the psychic, pretending to be one of the staff.
Attached to the note was a rough but surprisingly detailed map, complete with arrows, room labels, and a small star marking a hidden room tucked beside the main consultation area.
He’d even added a few stick figures, one of which was labeled Harper? with a tiny question mark over the head.
I stared at the map, heart picking up speed. So she was hiding.
But why?
Without exchanging a word, Alpha Sebastian and I stood at the same time. We quietly slipped away, leaving Yvonne and Tang in the waiting room.
Following the map, we ended up in what looked like the psychic’s private space—complete with a huge bed that felt way too personal.
Alpha Sebastian caught me glancing at it, then at him.
"Really? Look at the bed, then look at me? What are you trying to say?" he murmured.
I nearly choked. "Relax—I just thought maybe she takes naps like you do."
Things got awkward real fast, so I walked straight to the far wall and noticed a scroll hanging over it.
Behind it, we found a few small holes—perfect for looking into the next room.
When we peeked through, everything made sense.
Mrs. White was here?!
Now we knew why Harper had come—she was investigating, trying to find the hidden secret about Cici.
Inside the room, Mrs. White was sitting across from an older woman .
The older woman had her eyes closed the whole time, like she was pretending to meditate.
Next to her sat another woman in white with part of her face covered by a scarf.
Even with the disguise, I could tell it was Harper. She was writing on a notepad, completely focused.
"Madam Amber," Mrs. White said softly, "I’ve done everything you told me to. Will my daughter be okay?"
The old woman gave a long, dramatic hum. "Let me check the energy again," she said, keeping her eyes shut.
What followed looked like a mix of bad acting and deep breathing. She swayed a little, made a few weird sounds, and even gave a fake-looking shiver.
I had to stop myself from laughing.
Was this where Cici got her habit of faking seizures?
Meanwhile, Harper kept cool, taking notes and staying in character like nothing was wrong.
Out of nowhere, Madam Amber dropped the act and snapped.
She knocked over the incense burner with a loud clang, sending ash and smoke flying.
"I told you—don’t lie to me!" she shouted, her voice sharp and intense. "Your daughter is carrying something dark, and you’ve been hiding it. Deception like that? It has consequences."
Before anyone could react, she doubled over, coughing hard—then spit something dark red into a handkerchief.
Fake blood, most likely.
A few wooden plaques on the wall came loose and crashed to the floor with a bang.
Whether it was planned or just cheap glue, it worked. The tension in the room shot through the roof.
Harper was right on cue. She grabbed a stack of papers and started throwing them at Mrs. White like some kind of ritual.
Mrs. White screamed, shielding herself with her arms.
"Ahh! No! Stay away from me! Stay away from my daughter!"
I stared, stunned. A Luna—losing composure like this?
But her reaction wasn’t to the theatrics. She wasn’t scared of the show.
She was reacting to something real. Something she thought was buried.
Next to me, Alpha Sebastian’s mouth curled into a slow, cold smile.
"Guilt speaks volumes," he murmured. "And sometimes, it screams."
I caught Sebastian’s whispered words, his breath warm against my ear.
His tone... did he know something about all this that I didn’t?
I tilted my head up to look at him, searching his face for clues.
"Don’t look at me like that," he murmured, his large hand gently pressing against my head to turn it back toward the peephole. "You’re distracting me."
Distracting? How was I looking at him?
Feeling slightly flustered but deciding to ignore his comment, I refocused my attention on the scene unfolding in the next room.