My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 403

Chapter 403: Chapter 403 MARCUS AND CATHERINE

SERAPHINA’S POV

By the time everyone gathered, the sun had shifted higher, pale light filtering through the tall windows of the main conference hall and stretching across the long table in muted bands.

The brightness did nothing to soften the tension in the room. If anything, it made everything feel too exposed, too clear, as if there was nowhere to hide from what we were facing.

Kieran stood at the head of the table, one hand braced against its surface, the other resting loosely at his side.

He looked composed, controlled, but I knew him well enough to recognize the strain beneath his facade—the white-knuckled grip of his hand, the jaw tight with barely checked tension, the stillness that wasn’t calm so much as contained force.

I took a seat to his right, aware—acutely, this time—of where I was placing myself.

Not at the edge. Not in the background.

By his side.

Ethan, Maya, Corin, Maris, and Brett arrived together.

No one lingered on greetings. No one wasted time.

The moment the doors closed, the discussion began.

It unfolded in pieces, each of us adding something until the gaps between them began to close, until the scattered fragments aligned into something that felt far too deliberate to be a coincidence.

“The psychic residue I found in Frostbane,” Corin began, his voice steady and sharp, “matches what Sera described here. It’s structured, intentional—and it was left behind on purpose.”

“And the rogues?” Kieran asked, his tone even, but there was an edge beneath it. “The ones wearing faces of dead pack members at Nightfang?”

Maya exchanged a glance with Maris before answering, her expression tightening. “I bet they were similar to the rogues we faced while you were with Catherine. They were coordinated. Too coordinated for rogues acting independently.”

Maris nodded, leaning forward. “We’ve fought rogues our entire lives. They don’t move like that. They don’t hold formation, they don’t anticipate like that. These ones did.”

Brett’s jaw set. “Which means they were Marcus’.”

Ethan exhaled, the sound heavy with implication. “So Marcus and Catherine are working together.”

Maris nodded. “They’re definitely aligned.”

The knowledge sank within me, giving rise to a host of questions.

What was their endgame?

How did they even know each other?

How did I fit into all of it?

Kieran’s attention turned to Alois. “You’ve been quiet.”

Alois had taken a position slightly removed from the table, his posture composed, hands loosely clasped behind his back.

He didn’t rush to speak, and when he did, his voice cut cleanly through the layered tension.

“The first thing you all need to know is that we’re dealing with more than a powerful psychic. There’s powerful magic involved, too.”

Kieran scoffed bitterly. "And here I thought I was lying when I chalked it up to dark magic."

“Catherine,” I whispered. “I heard rumors when I was little that her mother was a witch.”

Alois nodded. “That is likely true, and it will explain how she’s able to do what she does.”

“And what exactly is that?” Kieran asked.

“What we are observing with the dead pack members,” Alois said evenly, “is not resurrection in the natural sense. It is reconstruction.”

The word settled into the room, and we waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“A portion of the original subject’s essence—what you would recognize as the soul—is revived and extracted using powerful dark magic,” he continued. “Not enough to sustain the original, but sufficient to preserve identity markers.”

My stomach tightened, the memory of Aaron’s mind flashing through me unbidden—the hollow spaces, the absence that shouldn’t have existed.

“Those fragments are then implanted into a separate vessel,” Alois went on, his tone remaining calm, almost clinical. “The result is a being that carries the original’s appearance, partial memory, and basal instincts.”

Alois’s gaze moved across the table, ensuring we were following.

“However,” he added, “such a construct is inherently unstable.”

Corin shifted, his attention sharpening. “Because the original still exists.”

Alois inclined his head. “Precisely. As long as the revived original soul remains intact, the transplanted fragment cannot fully anchor.”

Each word landed heavier than the last, slotting into place with everything we had already seen.

Aaron’s confusion.

The way his thoughts slipped.

The emptiness where something vital should have been.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “So what’s the end goal?”

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