Chapter 515
515
Third Person’s POV
Paisley hurried back to the Blackthorn Pack and, upon hearing the door to the study open, rushed in with her crimson flame pheromones brimming with eager warmth.
She had just wrapped up Caldwell’s matter and was planning to have Craig assist her – her wolf claws lightly itched with anticipation.
Upon entering the study, she found it filled with paintings. Lance and Adelaide were already there.
The air was a blend of cedar and fir pheromones, calm and steady.
Adelaide stood motionless before a painting. Her fir pheromones were as cold as ice, her eyes locked onto the image without a blink, her pupils narrowed with intense focus.
Paisley approached, her crimson flame pheromones rippling with each step.
Following Adelaide’s gaze, she froze the moment she noticed the red mole above the lip of the person in the painting. Her pheromones halted instantly, as if frozen.
She scanned the other paintings one by one, her wolf ears pricking up in disbelief.
The individuals depicted varied in build and eyebrow shapes, yet there was an uncanny familiarity beneath their eyes.
Finally, her gaze landed on a painting near the desk, and she was stunned.
Her pheromones exploded with scorching shock–the person in the painting mirrored the image in her memory.
It was an exact match!
From face shape and eyebrows to eyes, nose, and the mole on the lip–everything matched Asa, whom she had met today.
Paisley felt breathless, her pheromones chaotic like wildfire in a storm.
This was too absurd.
She had seen Asa today, and here she was in the painting, vividly depicted by someone who had never met her.
She turned to Craig and Caldwell, who were discussing a painting.
Craig’s oak pheromones radiated/steady focus as he said, “If she’s lived a good life, well–fed and comfortable, she’d be plumper.“,
“This one’s the same person, but I altered the eyebrows and hairstyle. And this neighboring painting shows
her in hardship, undernourished and poorly clothed, hence the gaunt appearance…”
Craig gestured as he explained, his cold camphor pheromones carrying an air of obsession .
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He waved Paisley away with a hint of impatience in his oak pheromones. “Move aside and don’t get in the way.”
Paisley pointed at the painting, her crimson flame pheromones trembling.
She struggled to speak, “I saw this person today.”
All eyes turned to her and the painting she indicated.
Lance’s expression tightened. Adelaide’s fir pheromones sent out sharp ripples, while Caldwell’s cold camphor pheromones solidified into ice.
Paisley swallowed hard, her eyes wide with shock as she addressed Craig. “Did you go to the Spectrehow ! Pack with me today? Did you see her? Otherwise, how could you paint her so accurately, down to the color of her clothes?”
Caldwell had never been so impulsive in his life.
Known for his politeness, he now grabbed Paisley’s shoulders with both hands. His cold camphor pheromones quivered with barely contained excitement.
He shook her slightly, his voice hoarse with a uniquely wolf rasp, “What did you say? You saw someone in the Spectrehowl Pack who looks exactly like the person in this painting?”
His pupils dilated with shock, and his wolf ears stood erect.
Paisley, startled, released a burst of crimson flame pheromones.
Seeing Caldwell’s bulging eyes, she instinctively cried out in a quivering voice, “Adelaide.”
Lance swiftly stepped in, his cedar pheromones forming a steady barrier between them.
He pulled Caldwell back, his tone brooking no argument, “Caldwell, you’re being rude.”
Adelaide took Paisley’s hand. Her fir pheromones sharpened instantly as she locked onto Paisley with narrowed pupils. “You went to the Spectrehowl Pack today? Who did you see? Who there resembles the person in this painting?”
“Asa!” Paisley said blankly.
Her pheromones still rippled with shock. “She’s the spitting image of the painting, down to the clothes, eyebrows, eyes, and that mole on her lip. If you saw her, you’d think they were the same person.”
Her wolf claws curled unconsciously in her palm, her fingertips turning white.
“Asa? The one Madison rescued and is set to mate with Eugene?”
Adelaide’s expression changed too. Her fir pheromones dropped like ice forming on a surface.
“Yes!” Paisley rubbed her goosebump–covered arm. A chill of disbelief mixed into her pheromones. “Could Asa be Caldwell’s sister?”
Lance guided Caldwell to the side, wrapping him in gentle cedar pheromones.
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He forced a glass of water down Caldwell’s throat to calm him before asking questions.
The water nearly caused Caldwell to choke.
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After coughing for a while, his cold camphor pheromones were in disarray, his breathing uneven. Yet, with bloodshot eyes, he fixed his gaze on Paisley.
His pupils blazed with urgent fire. “Paisley… please, tell us the details.”