Chapter 69

Lauren

I stood in an empty, dark field, the silence thick, suffocating. In the distance, I saw Owen and Abigail, their voices fading the further I ran. The ground seemed to swallow my every step, and no matter how fast I moved, they slipped further away.

Then, Alexander appeared, but his face was cold, distant. He walked with the kids, vanishing into the mist, leaving me behind.

I screamed for him, but no sound came. Only a voice, quiet and sharp, echoed from the edge of the field: "You can’t keep them forever, Lauren. You’ve lost them once. You’ll lose them again."

I fell into darkness, the weight of his words dragging me down. Just before I hit the ground, I heard Alexander’s voice, colder than ice: “You can’t stop this.”

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding, the remnants of fear clinging to me. My skin was slick with sweat, the nightmare’s weight pressing down. The room was unnervingly still.

I glanced at Alexander on the couch near me. His steady breathing was the only thing that grounded me, a sharp contrast to the panic clawing at my chest.

Without thinking, I was out of bed, legs shaky beneath me as I grabbed my robe. The lodge was eerily quiet, too still. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My heart raced in my ears, and all I could think about were the kids—Owen. Abigail.

I rushed down the hallway, my legs trembling, panic seizing my chest. They were fine, I knew that, but I had to be sure.

I pushed open the door to their room slowly, trying to avoid the creak. The lower bunk was perfectly made, the comforter smooth, untouched. The nightlight cast a dim, unsettling glow over the room.

My eyes snapped to the top bunk. The blankets were tossed aside, like someone had hurriedly gotten up.

“Kids?” I called out, my voice trembling, as if calling their names would make them appear in the silence.

Ice-cold panic gripped my chest. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating me. My breath came in sharp, desperate gasps. My legs trembled, but I couldn’t move fast enough. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight.

“Alexander!” My voice broke, cracking on the edge of hysteria. The desperation clawed at me, twisting in my gut. “Alexander, please!”

Within seconds, he was there, his strong arms finding there way to me. As soon as he saw me—shaking, wide-eyed, my hands trembling in front of me—his expression shifted. Gone was the grogginess. His eyes sharpened. He knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” His voice was low, commanding. “What happened?”

I couldn’t even speak at first, the words caught in my throat, thick with fear. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. “It’s the kids—they’re gone! They’re gone!”

I barely noticed him dressing, his movements swift as he tugged on a jacket, his jaw set in that familiar hard line. His calmness helped steady me, but my heart was still racing, my mind racing faster than I could keep up with.

“They’re gone,” I managed, my voice trembling as I stepped toward him. “Owen and Abigail. They’re not in their rooms—!”

Without another word, he was already pulling me toward the door, his hand on the small of my back as we rushed into the cold night air.

“Relax,” his voice was low, eyes sharp. “I have there scent.”

I could barely feel the chill against my skin, my focus entirely consumed by the thought of them. I didn’t know where they were, but I knew one thing for sure: they weren’t where they were supposed to be.

“Any blood,” I asked, yanking my jacket over my arms, following his large steps in the snow. He always had the gift of scent.

“No,” he reported. “But I have a feeling I know where they went.”

I could hear the crunch of gravel under our feet as we moved toward the tree line, the shadows of the forest looming ahead like sentinels in the dark.

We met eahother’s eyes, instantly understanding, taking off full sprint in the snow.

The door creaked, a blast of wind following as we rushed inside the small cabin. My heart raced, still reeling, when the warmth of the room hit us. We stumbled into the Doctor’s living room, everyone inside frozen in shock. And then I saw him. My breath caught in my throat.

The old doctor was sitting on the couch with Gingi, Abigail and Owen sitting infront of them like he was reading some story book, only he had his hand out, the children mirroring him.

Owen’s claws were out, only… now Abigail’s were too.

There eyes flicked up at the sound of our footsteps, and the pitying look he gave me made my stomach turn.

Abigail’s claws instantly retracted, “Mommy?”

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice tight with both confusion and fury. “Get over here now!”

My tone didn’t leave any room to argue as the kids were quick to my side, heads dutched low.

The doctor didn’t flinch. He set the cup down slowly, meeting my gaze with an unsettling calm. Gingi’s voice cut through, smooth and cold. “I was wondering when you’d come back. You’re late.”

“What are you talking about?” Alexander growled, stepping forward, but I held him back.

“What were you doing with my children?” I demanded, panic creeping into my voice.

The doctor’s expression softened, but Gingi’s sigh made my blood run cold. “They’re safe. Just drinking cocoa.”

I couldn’t hold back. “What? Meeting with kids in the middle of the night? Teaching them that? We were worried sick!”

Gingi stood, brushing her skirt. “Lauren, your children came to us—”

“I don’t care!” I snapped, closing the space between us. “Kids should be with their parents! Not… whatever this is.”

“They’re learning,” the doctor said softly, almost patronizing, like it was no big deal. “Learning to control their powers.”

My chest tightened. “It’s not time yet,” I whispered.

Belsing and Gingi exchanged a pitying look, their eyes almost sad. “The bloodline’s powers. The sooner they control them, the better.”

I turned to Owen and Abigail, my heart racing. “What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice cracking.

Abigail stood, stepping in front of Owen. “It’s okay, Mom. We’re fine. We’re learning. The doctor’s helping us. You two were acting weird, so we—”

“No,” I scoffed, my voice shaking with anger and fear. “You don’t understand. You don’t need to learn this. You don’t need him. He’s not your teacher. Worst of all, you can’t just disappear. Ever!”

Gingi’s voice was calm but firm. “The cat’s out of the bag, Lauren. You can’t run from this. You can’t hide from who you are, who your children are. They have these gifts. They are part of something greater. You’ve already lost your wolf form. What’s next? You want to curse them with that inability by hiding? Like you?”

The words slammed into me like a physical blow, the shock reverberating through my chest. I slowly turned to face her, my lip curling in disgust. A low growl rumbled in my throat, barely controlled.

“Excuse me?” I hissed, my voice thick with menace, each syllable dripping with venom.

I took a step closer, closing the distance between us, my eyes burning with fury. “Stay away from my children. Whatever this is—good, bad, or anything in between—you need my permission. You don’t come near them. Not now, not ever. I swear to God, if you do, I will tear you apart. I’ll rip your throat out without a second thought.”

But Gingi didn’t flinch. She simply raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my fury. Her composure only fueled my rage. “You can’t protect them forever,” she said, her voice cold and unbothered. “They need to embrace what they are. You all do. Besides,” she smirked, “I don’t fear a werewolf without a wolf form.”

The words stung, but before I could snap back, Alexander stepped forward, his eyes burning with a predatory intensity. They glowed with a primal light, and I could feel the power in his every movement. His voice dropped, low and guttural, dripping with menace.

“I am her fangs,” he growled, his tone dark and final, each word wrapped in promise. “She doesn’t need a wolf form to keep her promise.”

There was no fear in his voice, only unwavering conviction, and for the first time, I felt a chill crawl down my spine—not from Gingi, but from him.

For the frist time, Gingi took a step back, clearing her throat, her eyes glued to the floor. “Right, apologies, Alpha Alexander.” She muttered.

I turned to Alexander, my heart racing, my mind made up. “We’re leaving. Now.”

He looked at me, then at the doctor, and nodded. “We’re done here.”

The children protested, trying to explain, but I was already walking out the door, dragging them behind me.

We were going home.