Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 289

Chapter 289

Third Person’s POV

“Caldwell-”

“If you’re not leaving, neither am I,” Caldwell cut in.

“Toasty, I’m not going to try to change your mind, so don’t try to change mine. All right?”

He reached out, gently wiping the dirt from her cheek. “Come on. I’ll walk with you.”.

Seraphina decided not to fight him on it. She nodded, whispered a quiet “thank you,” and hurried toward the protection zone without stopping to catch her breath.

By the time they arrived, several hours had passed.

The whole area was reduced to rubble. Volunteer teams were already picking their way through the wreckage.

A sudden, crushing heaviness settled into Seraphina’s legs, rooting her to the spot.

The tears she’d managed to hold back the entire walk finally spilled over.

Her chest ached, and a wave of dizziness washed through her. Even with her sharp werewolf vision, the devastation in front of her blurred in and out of focus.

She felt so weak that taking a breath took everything she had.

After what felt like an eternity, the worst of the panic started to fade.

Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to keep moving.

Then, she spotted a familiar figure in the distance.

He was wearing simple work clothes, covered in dirt and debris, and his normally spotless glasses were caked in a thick layer of dust.

He gripped a shovel, frantically digging through the rocks and soil, pushing his werewolf strength to the limit.

Whenever the shovel or machinery couldn’t reach a spot, he fell back on brute strength, tearing through the

rubble with his bare hands.

His face grew desperate as workers carried out one body after another.

“Mortimer?”

Seraphina’s voice trembled. It was barely a whisper.

Yet he seemed to hear her. He stopped in his tracks and looked her way.

The second Mortimer saw Seraphina, he froze, crouching still on the ground.

Blood dripped from his dirt-caked fingers, the skin torn raw by the jagged debris.

He reached up and yanked off his glasses. His red eyes stared at her, unblinking,

His face was twisted in grief, and as his werewolf instincts began to slip out of his control, he let out a series of low, guttural sounds of distress.

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Seraphina never expected to run into Mortimer here, of all places, at a time like this.

He looked ragged and exhausted, weighed down by grief.

His clothes were filthy and torn, like he hadn’t changed in days.

What was he doing here?

Before she could wrap her head around it, he grabbed her, pulling her into a tight, cold hug.

“Sera, you’re safe… I’m sorry,” Mortimer stammered into her ear, his voice shaking. “I looked everywhere for you. I couldn’t find you.”

He held her tightly; she could barely move.

“Why are you here?”

Seraphina asked, her voice hoarse as she looked up at him.

Mortimer stiffened. After a long pause, he murmured, “I came to find you. I wasn’t going to leave you here alone again.”

Seraphina opened her mouth, but the rush of thoughts was too much. The words wouldn’t come.

She thought of her friends still buried under the rubble, their fates unknown, and a sharp, physical ache gripped

her chest.

She wanted to ask if they had found Trista, but she couldn’t find the courage to say her name.

Suddenly, someone yanked Mortimer backward with force, ripping him away from her.

Wilmot glared at Seraphina, his bloodshot, animalistic eyes locked onto hers.

He looked as wrecked as Mortimer did.

His fingernails were torn back, bleeding from digging barehanded through the jagged rubble.

He looked at her with raw hatred.

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