A Warrior's Second Chance (Faye and Alexander) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122

FAYE

The letter wouldn’t leave me alone.

Even after Alexander folded it neatly and tucked it away like it was nothing more than a routine message, I couldn’t get the words out of my head. Brother. That one word had felt heavier than the rest of the page, pressing into my chest with a weight I couldn’t shake off.

Marcus. The name rolled like thunder in the silence of my thoughts. I had seen Alexander’s face when he read it–he hid it well, but I knew him too much by now. That flicker of unease, the shadow of something he didn’t want us to notice. He had dismissed my questions quickly, maybe too quickly, shutting down any possibility that his bloodline wasn’t as straightforward as he claimed.

But that letter was too precise. Too deliberate. Whoever wrote it knew exactly how to wound him, how to strike at the foundation of who he was. That wasn’t coincidence.

Alexander had turned the conversation into orders, telling Cole to find out who dropped the letter. The way he always did when he wanted to bury feelings beneath command. He was good at that. But the questions lingered in me long after. If he wasn’t ready to face them,

someone had to.

That was how I found myself standing at Irene’s door later that evening, my knuckles hovering above the wood, hesitating.

I knocked softly.

“Come in,” her voice called from inside.

I slipped into her room, closing the door behind me. She was sitting by the window, a book in her hands, though from the way her eyes lifted to me instantly, I doubted she had been reading much.

“Faye,” she said, smiling faintly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I didn’t sit at first. My hands tightened at my sides, the folded weight of the letter still fresh in my memory. “Irene, I need to ask you something. Something important.”

Her smile faded at the tone in my voice. She set the book down carefully and gestured for me to come sit by her. “What is it?”

I sat across from her. “This letter Alexander received today… it wasn’t just a threat. It was personal. Whoever sent it called him brother. And not in some casual mocking way–he

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branded the word, as if it meant something.”

She raised an eyebrow, and smirked at first. “Brother?”

I nodded. “Alexander dismissed it immediately, said it wasn’t possible. But the way he reacted. I don’t know. It felt too quick, like he didn’t want to even consider the possibility. I thought maybe…maybe you’d know if there’s truth buried in there somewhere. Anything that might explain this.”

For a moment, Irene said nothing. She just sat there, her expression blank, her hands laced tightly in her lap. Then she exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair.

“You shouldn’t ask me things like this, Faye,” she said softly. “You know how Alexander is. He doesn’t want to dig up ghosts. He wants the ground to stay firm under his feet.”

“I know,” I admitted. “But this isn’t about what he wants. This is about what’s coming for him -and for the pack. That letter wasn’t idle. Whoever wrote it, Marcus or whoever he is, he’s not bluffing. We can’t afford to ignore it just because Alexander doesn’t want to look too closely.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a long while, weighing. And then, almost reluctantly, she said, ” There was something once. Something I heard when I was younger. I’m not sure how serious it is.”

I leaned forward. “What was it?”

She hesitated again, biting her lip as though even speaking it aloud might open old wounds. ” One night, our parents fought. Loud enough that I could hear them down the hall. I was still a very much younger, but I remember the words because they were sharp enough to leave marks. My mother accused father of infidelity.”

I inhaled deeply, but I said nothing.

“She was crying…really crying…and she said something about a woman, and a child. I thought…I thought she was being dramatic, you know? Throwing accusations in anger. I never told Alexander. Their relationship was already strained; Father was harder on him than he was on me, always demanding more, always criticizing. I didn’t want to add more fire to it.

My pulse kicked harder. “You think it could be true?”

She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know. I buried it, convinced myself it was nothing. But now… hearing what you’ve told me, seeing the look on your face… maybe it wasn’t nothing after all…but only my father would know for sure. And he isn’t here anymore.”

The room seemed to shrink around us. A cold dread prickled at the back of my neck. This

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wasn’t just speculation anymore, it was the echo of a real possibility, one frene had been carrying for years in silence.

“Alexander needs to know,” I said firmly, even as her eyes flicked to mine, wide with alarm.

“No.” she said quickly, leaning forward. “You can’t tell him this came from me. If he finds out I kept it from him all these years…Faye, you know how he is. He’ll see it as betrayal. He’ll never forgive me for staying silent.”

“But he has to hear it,” I pressed. “Even if it’s not true, even if it was just a fight between your parents, he has to know. Otherwise, he’ll walk into this blind, and that’s exactly what whoever this person is wants. Alexander needs to know where to begin, Irene. He can’t do that if we pretend there’s no chance at all.”

Her hands trembled as she twisted them in her lap. I saw the conflict written across her face, love for her brother warring with fear of his judgment.

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