Chapter 87

ELENA

The world had been reduced to a series of small rituals.

Wake up. Tiptoe down the Moonstone hallways. Open the door to Aiden’s room. Sit by his side. Watch the rise and fall of his chest. Whisper prayers to the Moon Goddess I’d neglected to properly worship since I was a teenager.

Repeat.

He’d been stabilized for days now, the worst of it behind us—or so they said. The silver poisoning was under control. The transfusions had taken. The wounds were healing.

But he still hadn’t woken up.

I crossed the room quietly, just as I’d done every morning since we brought him home. The nurse had changed his bandages overnight, and the scent of wolfsbane salve lingered faintly in the air. Aiden’s little body—so warm, so strong, so still—lay tucked beneath soft sheets and too many machines.

I sat down and gently wrapped my fingers around his hand. His skin was warm. That was good.

I let my thumb trace the back of his palm, a grounding motion I’d done since he was small. His tiny hand used to disappear inside mine. Now it filled it.

“Aiden,” I whispered, resting my head on the edge of the bed. “It’s morning, baby. You can open your eyes if you want.”

And then—

A small shift.

Barely perceptible, but enough to still my breath.

His fingers twitched.

I froze.

“Aiden?” I sat up, heartbeat hammering in my chest. “Sweetheart?”

This time his eyes fluttered. Once. Twice. And then they opened—glazed and slow, but unmistakably awake.

Relief crashed through me so hard I nearly collapsed.

“Mama?” His voice was hoarse, a broken whisper from disuse.

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” I choked. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Tears sprang to my eyes as I hit the call button, summoning the nurse and pediatrician before turning back to my son. “You’ve been asleep for a little while. You were hurt, Aiden. Very badly. But you’re safe now. You’re safe.”

His brow furrowed. “Is this Moonstone?”

“Yes,” I said softly. “We brought you home.”

The nurse rushed in a second later, followed by Dr. Hallen, our longtime pediatrician. The older wolf smiled warmly at Aiden and stepped to the bed, checking vitals, asking gentle questions, assessing reflexes and responsiveness.

Aiden winced when he tried to sit up, and I was at his side in an instant, pressing him back gently. “Easy. You need to rest, okay? We’re going to take things slow.”

After a few minutes of evaluation, Dr. Hallen gave a satisfied nod. “This is a good sign,” he told me. “A very good sign. We’ll adjust his care plan and start introducing some clear fluids and soft foods later today. The important thing now is rest and gradual reintroduction.”

The nurse adjusted his IV drip and they left us alone again, promising to return shortly.

The moment the door shut, Aiden turned his head toward me.

“I called him,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“In Pierce’s villa,” he said. “Before the attack. I went into the office and called Derek. Is that how he found us?”

My throat tightened. “Yes. That’s how.”

Aiden nodded, eyelids already starting to droop again. “I knew he would come.”

I swallowed. “You remember?”

“Sort of. It’s fuzzy. I don’t remember how we got home.” He frowned. “Did Derek save us?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “He did.”

A sleepy smile tugged at his lips. “I knew he would,” he murmured again. His eyes drifted shut.

I reached out and smoothed the hair back from his forehead, my heart aching.

There were so many things I needed to tell him.

And I didn’t know how to start.

DEREK

The phone call ended like they all had. Short. Terse. Clinical.

“He’s still stable, Alpha Derek.”

That was it.

Nothing about whether he was awake. Nothing about whether I could visit. Just the same walls, the same vague updates.

Each time I had to hear it from a Moonstone staffer, not even a member of the family.

And From Elena? The same unbearable silence.

I set the receiver down on the kitchen counter of the Silverclaw estate and stared at my reflection in the darkened window. My eyes looked like a stranger’s—haunted and rimmed in red.

The silence was driving me insane.

He was my son.

My son.

And I wasn’t even allowed to see him.

I’d left Barbados because I had no choice. Moonstone had taken over his care, and they’d made it clear I wasn’t welcome. Logan hadn’t said a word to me during that entire final hour at the hospital. Mason barely acknowledged me. Elena…

Elena didn’t fight them.

And that stung more than I wanted to admit.

I leaned my hands on the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself. But the pressure was building again—grief, rage, helplessness—all of it boiling beneath the surface like magma.

The sound of heels clicking on marble echoed down the hall.

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want company. Not even Joe. Not even my Beta.

“Derek?” a soft, female voice said.

I tensed. Cassandra.

She stepped into the kitchen, dressed flawlessly, her dark hair swept into a twist at the nape of her neck. She held a small tray with a cup of coffee and a pastry, but I didn’t touch it.

“I heard you were home,” she said. “Caroline was worried. She thought maybe I could cheer you up.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Not really in the mood for cheering.”

She came closer. “I know. Everyone’s talking about it. About… the boy.”

I didn’t respond.

Cassandra set the tray down on the counter with careful grace, as though even the clink of the ceramic cup might shatter what was left of me. She glanced around the kitchen before turning her attention back to me, a practiced softness in her gaze.

“You haven’t been eating,” she said quietly. “Joe told Caroline, and she told me. I thought maybe I could bring you something. Just... sit with you.”

I didn’t answer. My hands were still braced against the edge of the counter, like I needed the support just to stay upright.

“I know you probably don’t want to see anyone right now,” she continued, her voice gentle. “But I couldn’t stay away. Not when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” I muttered.

She took a careful step closer. “Hurting.”

That word sank into the room like a stone dropped in water. She was right. I was hurting. Badly.

I’d spent every second since that hospital room choking on the fear that I might never get to see my son again. That I'd found him just to lose him.

“I see how much this is tearing you apart,” she said. “And I hate it. I hate seeing you like this.”

I exhaled slowly, jaw clenched. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“No,” she admitted, reaching out to touch my arm. “I don’t. Not exactly. But I know what it’s like to want something—someone—so badly, and feel like they’re being kept from you. I know what it’s like to feel powerless.”

That got my attention. I glanced at her, unsure what game she was playing.

She looked down at the floor, then back up at me with something almost shy in her eyes. “I just... I want you to know that I would never do that to you. What Elena’s doing—cutting you off from your own child—it’s cruel, Derek. And unfair. But I would never make you feel that kind of pain.”

I pulled my arm back, gently but firmly. “Cassandra—”

But she stepped forward, catching my hand before I could retreat further.

Her fingers were warm, trembling just slightly as she brought my hand between us.

And then… she laid it against her stomach.

The breath caught in my throat.

“What are you—”

“I’m pregnant,” she said, her voice hushed, like she was telling me a secret meant for just the two of us. “You’re going to be a father again.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. They floated in the air like smoke—visible, but impossible to hold.

“What did you just say?” My voice came out hoarse, foreign.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated. And this time, the corners of her mouth lifted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. There were tears in her eyes—real ones, maybe. Or maybe not. But behind them…

Behind them was something else.

Something sharp.

A flicker of triumph.