Chapter 4: Disaster at the Door

I wondered why I’d let a storybook get under my skin—until, three months later, Lillian Hart showed up, and I finally understood. The truth always comes for you in the end.

My mentor always said I had a knack for seeing things before they happened. But my gift wasn’t strong enough; I’d catch a hint, and before I could grab it, it was gone. Only when things happened did I realize I’d already seen it coming—story of my life.

I used to joke that I could see the future, but only in the rearview mirror.

Lillian Hart was Julian Frost’s fabled romantic disaster.

The name alone was enough to make people whisper. Everyone loves a good tragedy.

She was beautiful, poised—even when seeking help from the Frost Pack, she was calm and unyielding. When her eyes reddened, she looked like a frightened deer, making people want to protect her. I almost rolled my eyes.

She had that thing some girls have—a way of making you want to save her, even if you know you shouldn’t. Still, I felt a twinge of something sharp—envy, maybe.

Because we knew she was coming, she wasn’t turned away but brought into the guest house with a whole show. They wanted everyone to see.

The Frost Pack didn’t do anything by accident. If they made a show of it, there was a reason.

At the Frost Pack, besides money, everything depended on fate. Or so they said.

Fate, luck, or just good timing—take your pick.

Standing in the shadows, I couldn’t help but laugh—fate? This was just pulling strings. I knew better than to believe in luck.

I’d seen enough behind the curtain to know how the magic worked.

Cameron, who kept records of all visitors, rubbed his hands and asked, "Miss Autumn, what should we do next?" His nerves showed in every word.

He looked nervous, eyes darting like a rabbit’s. Poor guy never did well under pressure.

"You’re asking me?" I raised an eyebrow.

He froze, sweating, but nodded, "Yes?" His voice was barely a whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He was too nervous. I gave him a strange look, then glanced at my reflection in the pond. No wonder he was scared—my face looked terrible. I looked like a ghost.

I looked like I’d lost a fight with a bear and come out second best.

Few people at the Frost Pack knew about my other identity; Cameron was one of them. He kept secrets, but he was always on edge.

He was trustworthy, if a little jumpy. I wondered how he made it this far.

"Don’t be scared; I’m not going to hurt you."

I tried to smile, but it probably came out wrong. My face wasn’t made for soft expressions.

I leaned on the railing, openly sizing up the woman not far away. My gaze was sharp, measuring.

She was standing by the window, sunlight catching in her hair. For a second, she looked almost innocent.

"Tell me, why is she here?" My tone was all business.

Cameron spilled everything. He always did. Secrets were heavy; he couldn’t carry them for long.

Lillian came to ask the Frost Pack to help her get medicine from Willow Hollow—a hidden place, full of miraculous cures rumored to heal the dying. But it was dangerous, full of traps. Most never made it out, let alone got the medicine. The story had teeth.

Everyone had heard stories about Willow Hollow. Most of them ended badly.

Coming to the Frost Pack was the right move. Desperate times, desperate measures.

If you’re desperate enough, you’ll try anything.

"Medicine to save someone?" I asked, suspicion edging my words.

Cameron nodded.

"And it’s for a man." I couldn’t help the cynicism in my voice.

Figures. It’s always for love, or revenge. That’s the way of things.

I let out a long breath and shot him a look. "Does she have a tragic background—lost her mom young, her dad remarried, and now she’s bullied by a stepmom and a rough family?" My sarcasm was thick.

I was half-joking, but Cameron took me seriously. I almost laughed.

Cameron blinked, not understanding why I asked. He handed me a file: "It’s all in here, Miss Autumn." Bureaucracy never takes a day off.

He always had a file. The Frost Pack kept records on everyone. Nobody slipped through the cracks.

I skimmed it, and my mood soured. Some people get all the luck—and all the pain.

Just like a storybook heroine, Lillian had a rough life. Orphaned at eight, sold off as a child bride—basically trafficked into marriage—but with a stubborn spirit, she planned her escape for half a year and finally joined the Silver Lake Lodge, where she met her childhood friend, Caleb Monroe. It was almost too much to believe.

Her story read like a soap opera. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

Now, Caleb was poisoned, with only five months to live. The clock was ticking.

Silver Lake Lodge was the most straight-laced group in the region. My mentor had a grudge against their leader and often called them hypocrites… They’d never stoop to dealing with a shadowy group like the Frost Pack. Old grudges never die.

Old rivalries die hard. My mentor never missed a chance to badmouth Silver Lake.

Was Lillian truly desperate, or had she broken with Silver Lake? The question nagged at me.

Or was it fate, sending her to be Julian’s disaster? Sometimes it felt like the universe had a sense of humor.

Clutching my chest, I felt a vague unease. The kind that creeps up on you and won’t let go.

That unease proved true the next evening.

It always does.