The Day He Forgot He Hated Me by Evangeline Marrow 82

The Day He Forgot He Hated Me by Evangeline Marrow 82 Summary

The story begins with Trinity waking up to the sound of rain and the comforting presence of Asher beside her. They share a quiet, intimate moment before acknowledging the significance of the day ahead, marked by a mysterious silver glow on Trinity’s chest. The atmosphere is tense as they prepare to face an uncertain future, joined by their allies Gage and Arlo, while others like Dennis and Petra remain hidden for safety.

Together, the group sets out to investigate ancient pack records missing crucial information about the “Blood of the First Moon.” Their search leads them to a forbidden, eerie section of the pack’s library, where they discover an old tapestry bearing Trinity’s symbol and a hidden stone door etched with the same mark. The door seems ancient and mysterious, with no visible lock or handle, suggesting it is a seal of some kind, waiting for something or someone.

As Trinity approaches the door, her mark pulses with intense heat and light, signaling a deep connection between her and whatever lies behind the door. The atmosphere grows charged with anticipation and fear as the door begins to react, glowing and cracking, despite Trinity not touching it. A haunting voice whispers and screams in her mind, demanding to be released, revealing that the door is not just an entrance but a prison containing something ancient and powerful.

The tension escalates as the door slowly opens on its own, and a pale, clawed hand begins to emerge from the gap. The group is frozen in shock and fear, with Asher urging immediate retreat. The chapter ends on a cliffhanger, with the mysterious entity pushing further through the opening door, leaving the characters—and readers—in suspense about what will happen next.

CHAPTER 82

The gentle patter of rain stirred me awake before the morning light could creep through the window. Asher’s room was slightly ajar, allowing the crisp aroma of damp pine to drift softly inside. His arm lay heavy and warm around my waist, his steady breath brushing against my skin. For a long moment, I remained still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, savoring the comforting heat of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. It was a feeling of safety—almost too comforting.

“Asher,” I murmured softly.

His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep but instantly alert when they met mine. “Morning,” he said, his voice husky and warm.

“Morning,” I replied, inching closer to him, my fingers tracing along his jawline. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”

He sighed quietly and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “I know.” Pushing up on one elbow, the muscles in his arm flexed as he stretched. “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” I asked, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter around me.

“That hum in the air,” he said, glancing down at my chest where the faint silver glow of my mark had reappeared, as if sensing the significance of the day. “It’s stronger today.”

I nodded slowly, the sensation stirring unease inside me. “Like the mark is waking up.”

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Asher stood. “Then we need to move. Gage and Arlo are already waiting downstairs. Dennis and Petra agreed to stay hidden for now until we know what’s really happening.”

Hearing their names tightened something in my chest. They had risked everything to help us, and now, because of me—because of the blood I carried—they were forced into hiding.

But my feelings toward Dennis were complicated. I knew he was trying to accept what had happened to me, yet he had known all along and never said a word. That silence stung more than I cared to admit.

As I stood, Asher brushed his thumb gently over my knuckles. “You’re not alone in this, Trinity.”

“I know,” I whispered, but the weight of it pressed heavily on my heart, heavier than words could express.

We showered and dressed quickly. Asher chose a dark shirt and black jeans, his hair tousled from sleep. I pulled on a hoodie and boots, trying not to dwell on the chill that had crept over my skin when I woke, as if something had been draining me in my dreams.

Downstairs, the living room was filled with the rich scent of strong coffee and the faint musk of wet fur. Gage leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. Arlo sat at the table, an ancient book spread before him.

“You’re late,” Gage said, though his tone lacked any real edge.

“We’re here now,” Asher replied smoothly, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee. “What have you found?”

Arlo closed the book with a soft thud. “Nothing concrete yet. The old pack records are missing—someone removed the pages about the Blood of the First Moon decades ago. All we have are fragments.”

I stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “Fragments of what?”

Arlo met my gaze, his expression tight. “Stories. Songs. Warnings. Nothing clear.”

Gage pushed off the wall. “We can start at the library. There’s a restricted section in the old wing—the one the Elders forbid anyone to enter. We might find something there.”

I nodded resolutely. “Then let’s go.”

The four of us exited the packhouse through the side door. The rain had softened into a mist that curled over the grass like wisps of smoke. My boots crunched on the gravel path, every sound sharp and amplified in the quiet morning.

Asher stayed close, his hand finding mine as a silent reassurance. Gage walked ahead, eyes scanning the surrounding trees, while Arlo frequently glanced down at the small notebook where he had meticulously copied all our findings so far.

The old wing of the library stood at the edge of the pack’s land, nestled into a low hill covered in stone and moss. It resembled more a crypt than a place of knowledge. The air inside was cold and damp, heavy with the musty scent of aged paper the moment we stepped through the door.

“Creepy place,” Gage muttered, flicking on his flashlight.

“No one’s been here in years,” Arlo added softly. “It’s not even on the map anymore.”

We moved past rows of cracked shelves and piles of forgotten boxes. Dust swirled in the flashlight’s beam like tiny, restless spirits.

A strange tingling stirred in my chest. The mark pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

“Asher,” I whispered.

His eyes flicked to my chest, then to the far wall where an ancient tapestry hung. The fabric was darkened with age, but a faint silver symbol shimmered at its center—my symbol.

“That’s it,” I said, stepping closer. My fingertips brushed the edge of the tapestry, its texture delicate and fine, like spider silk against my skin.

Arlo joined me, squinting at the faded runes embroidered along the bottom. “I can’t read all of it. It’s… old. Older than the pack itself.”

“What does it say?” I asked.

He traced the symbols slowly with his fingertip. “Blood. Moon. First. Door.”

“Door?” Gage echoed, puzzled.

Arlo nodded. “That’s the closest word I can make out. Door or gate.”

Suddenly, the mark on my chest flared with a searing heat, a strange blend of ice and fire. I gasped and stepped back.

Asher’s arm shot out, steadying me. “Trinity?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, though my voice trembled. “It just—burned.”

Gage peeled back part of the tapestry, revealing a stone door carved into the wall. The same silver symbol was etched into its center.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

“Holy hell,” Gage muttered. “There’s an actual door.”

Arlo’s eyes widened. “No one knew this was here. Not even the Elders.”

The mark on my chest throbbed again, syncing with something deep behind the stone.

Asher squeezed my hand gently. “This is connected to you.”

Swallowing hard, I whispered, “The Blood of the First Moon…”

Gage crouched, running his fingers along the door’s edge. “No handle. No lock.”

“It doesn’t need one,” Arlo said quietly. “It’s waiting for something. Or someone.”

All eyes turned to me.

I shook my head. “I’m not touching it. Not until we know more.”

“We don’t have time,” Asher said softly. “If the mark is waking, whatever’s behind that door could already be stirring.”

The mark pulsed again, stronger this time. I could feel it deep in my bones, a whisper crawling through my mind—a voice unfamiliar yet hauntingly recognizable. Come closer.

A shiver ran down my spine. “There’s something behind it. Calling me.”

Arlo flipped open his notebook, scribbling furiously. “If you’re the heir to this bloodline, that symbol might be a seal. It could be holding something in—or keeping something out.”

“Which is it?” Gage asked sharply.

Arlo remained silent.

Asher turned to me, his voice low and steady. “Trinity, what do you feel?”

I closed my eyes, images flooding my mind: darkness, a red moon, blood dripping from silver chains, my own face reflected in black water. The voice whispered again, softer now. You’re mine.

I opened my eyes, heart pounding. “It’s not just a door. It’s a prison.”

Gage straightened, jaw clenched. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it’s ancient. Older than this pack. Older than the first Alpha.”

Arlo’s pencil snapped between his fingers. “If that’s true, then you’re not just the heir to a bloodline—you’re the heir to whatever’s trapped behind that wall.”

The air in the library shifted. Mist from outside had crept in through the cracks, curling around our ankles. My mark glowed brighter, silver light spilling from beneath my hoodie.

Asher stepped closer, voice calm but eyes dark. “We’re not opening it today. We’ll learn more first.”

Before anyone could move, the symbol on the stone door suddenly flared to life. Silver light raced across the carvings like lightning. The ground trembled beneath our feet.

“What did you do?” Gage barked.

“Nothing!” I shouted, hands raised. I hadn’t touched it.

The whisper in my mind turned into a scream. Let me out.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone door, glowing like molten metal. The mark on my chest burned so fiercely I thought it would tear me apart.

“Asher—” I gasped.

He grabbed me, pulling me back, but the air between me and the door pulsed like a heartbeat, pushing against him, against all of us.

“Get her out!” Gage shouted urgently.

Arlo grabbed his bag, eyes locked on the door. “It’s waking up—”

The stone door shuddered one last time, then a single line of silver light split down the middle. A voice, neither mine nor human, whispered through the room:

“The heir has come. The seal is breaking.”

The door began to open.

We all froze.

“Asher,” I whispered, voice trembling. “It’s opening on its own.”

He tightened his grip on my arm, eyes fixed on the widening crack of light. “Then we run—now.”

But before we could move, something pressed against the gap from the other side. A shape—a hand, if it could be called that—pale and elongated, with claws like gleaming silver knives.

And then it pushed further.

Sara Lili

Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.