Chapter 58

Esther’s POV

Three months sounds like a lifetime when you’re bargaining with an Alpha King. Living it was something else entirely.

I marked the days in the back of my journal with a simple black slash, each one a tally toward freedom or failure. Now the last square on the page had a circle around it: today. Three months exactly since I’d stood in the courtyard and promised Kevin I’d return, three months since Nicholas’s eyes had glimmered gold in the moonlight and Sharon had flickered awake in my chest.

And still my wolf was only a faint pulse under my ribs, more a phantom heartbeat than a living thing.

I pressed my fingers against the spot above my sternum where Sharon slept.

Wake up, I whispered silently. Please.

Nothing.

Outside the healer’s wing window, the early-autumn sky glowed pewter. The pack yard was busy with guards doing drills, banners snapping in the wind. Somewhere across the compound Nicholas was barking orders at his captains, already resetting his power base after Amanda’s exile. It should have felt like a victory. Instead it felt like a countdown.

Carl’s latest test results lay in a neat stack on the table beside me. Numbers circled in red, a scribbled note from the doctor: “Not responding. Consider more aggressive treatment.”

I stared at the sheet until the numbers blurred. Three months. Three months and still no miracle.

I folded the lab reports back into their folder and opened my journal instead. The blank page waited, soft and cream-colored, smelling faintly of leather. This was the part I’d been putting off all week.

Dear Nicholas, I wrote.

The pen hovered. My throat closed.

No.

I started again.

To whomever finds this—

Too impersonal.

My hand shook. Ink spattered the page like small black tears. Finally I scrawled the words I’d been afraid of:

Kevin, by the time you read this, I will already be gone.

I paused, breathing hard.

I’m sorry I broke my promise. I tried. I stayed. I endured everything I had to in order to wake Sharon, but it wasn’t enough. Carl’s condition worsens each day. I can’t risk him anymore. I can’t risk the twins growing up without me. Please take them back to Blue Lake and keep them safe.

I pressed the pen harder, carving the next lines:

Tell them I love them. Tell them I tried.

My vision swam. I forced myself to keep going.

If Nicholas ever asks about me, tell him I don’t hate him. Tell him…

I stopped. The pen tip trembled over the page. Tell him what? That I forgave him? That I’d started to see the man beneath the Alpha’s armor? That part of me still wanted him even after every humiliation?

The truth was a snarl of contradictions too big to fit into ink.

I scratched a line through the unfinished sentence, then closed the journal with a snap and pressed it to my chest. Tears leaked hotly down my face before I even knew they were there.

A soft knock startled me. I swiped at my cheeks, tucking the journal under a stack of medical papers.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened a crack. Two small faces peeked through: Sofia first, all wide hazel eyes and dimples, then Carl, pale and serious.

“Mom?” Sofia’s voice was tentative.

I forced a smile. “Come here, you two.”

They slipped inside, closing the door carefully behind them. Carl moved more slowly, one hand gripping the edge of the table as though to steady himself. I jumped up, heart in my throat.

“Carl, sit down. You shouldn’t be up.”

“I’m fine.” But he let me guide him to the chair.

Sofia climbed straight into my lap. She’d grown a little taller in three months; her legs dangled longer over my knees. She clutched the front of my shirt. “Why are you crying?”

I kissed her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair, wildflowers and crayons. “Just tired.”

Carl watched me with the piercing stare that always reminded me of Nicholas. “You’ve been sad all week,” he said quietly.

I opened my mouth to deny it but the words stuck.

Sofia wriggled.

“We heard you talking last night,” she whispered. “You said we have to go home.”

My stomach dropped. “You… what?”

She ducked her head. “We were at the door. We didn’t mean to listen. But…” Her voice went small. “Are you leaving?”

Carl’s hands fisted on his knees. “You promised.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you,” I whispered. “For both of you.”

Sofia’s lower lip trembled. “But we like it here now. We like…” She trailed off, glancing at Carl.

“Go on,” I urged gently.

She shrugged, twisting her fingers in my shirt. “We like the big library. And the training yard. And…” She dropped her voice. “And Nicholas.”

Carl stiffened but didn’t contradict her.

I brushed her hair back. “I know you do. He can be very kind.”

Carl muttered, “Not to you.”

The words sliced me.

“Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes,” I said softly. “Sometimes we hurt each other without meaning to.”

The three of us sat in silence for a while, Sofia curled in my lap, Carl slouched in the chair like a miniature sentinel. I memorized their faces, the sweep of Carl’s lashes against his pale cheeks, the way Sofia’s thumb brushed circles over my collarbone. If I left tonight, these might be my last quiet minutes with them inside this pack.

Finally I eased Sofia off my lap and stood. “Let’s get you back to your caretaker before lunch.”

Sofia’s brow furrowed. “You’re coming too?”

“Soon.” I forced another smile. “I have to finish some work first.”

Carl slid off the chair. “Promise?”

I touched his shoulder. “Promise.”

When they left, holding hands like twin moons orbiting each other, the silence they left behind felt like the end of the world.

That night I went to the small chapel tucked behind the healer’s wing. It smelled of beeswax and old wood, the only place in the palace where no one bothered me. I knelt before the carved wolf totem at the altar and let my forehead rest against the cool stone.

Moon above, I prayed silently. If you’re listening, I’m running out of time. Carl’s running out of time. I’ve done everything you asked. I stayed. I endured. Please—wake Sharon. Please.

Nothing answered but the faint drip of water from the eaves.

I gritted my teeth.

“Then at least keep them safe,” I whispered aloud. “If I have to leave, keep them safe.”

Sharon stirred faintly under my ribs, like a heartbeat in a dream. But she did not wake.

When I returned to my room, the journal still lay on the table, the farewell letter open to the ink-blotted page. I sat and read it again, then folded it carefully and slid it into an envelope.

I couldn’t bring myself to address it.

I stared out the window at the pack yard below. The banners flapped under the moonlight, guards changing shifts like clockwork. Somewhere in the Alpha’s wing Nicholas’s silhouette passed behind a curtain, tall and restless.

For a moment our eyes almost met across the distance, though I knew he couldn’t see me. A tremor ran through the mate bond, faint but undeniable.

I looked away first.

The next morning, it dawned gray and brittle. I packed quietly, just enough to slip away with the twins after breakfast. My hands shook as I folded their clothes into a small travel bag, tucking their favorite toys between the shirts. Sofia’s ragged bunny. Carl’s chess set missing a pawn.

At the bottom of the bag I laid the envelope.

“Ready?” I whispered to no one.

Sharon gave no answer.

Carl and Sofia were still with their caretaker; at least I had that much time. I wiped my hands on my skirt, trying to steady my heartbeat.

This was it, the last morning, the last line on the page.