Drake POV:
After Leila finally drifted into a restless nap, I found myself drawn to, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit—where my son lay. There he was, eyes wide open, gazing at the ceiling as if there was magic in every shadow, every tiny shift of light. He broke into a quiet smile, a smile with no teeth, just that soft, bare gum. Sothing so small, so fragile, yet he found joy in nothing at all. My heart twisted, torn between swelling with pride for this tiny miracle and shattering at the thought of him... alone.
How could he grow up without her? He needed her. We needed her. But there was this... thing. This monster lurking beneath her skin with a na that felt like sothing out of a nightmare. Lupine Decay Syndro. I could hardly even say it without feeling the air catch in my chest. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, each syllable like a fresh cut, each clinical term another nail hamring in this unknown horror. Why Leila? What on earth had I done to deserve this twisted fate, a happy son in one hand and a ticking clock in the other?
How could he grow up without her? He was so small, blissfully unaware of the battle raging just to keep her alive. My stomach clenched. How could he need so much and know so little? What on earth had I done to deserve this? The thought felt like betrayal, that flicker of happiness for my son’s growth, overshadowed by the relentless ache for his mother.
I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t lose her. The thought was a dark, raw fury blazing up inside . Sure, we had our share of rough tis, but none of that mattered now. I loved her fiercely, stupidly, desperately, and I’d be damned if I’d let a faceless disease steal her from and our son. Yes, she and I had faced our share of storms, but I loved her, every part of her—even the broken, guarded parts. I couldn’t lose her, wouldn’t let it happen. And with every beat of my heart, I knew: I was willing to do whatever it took, willing to walk into hell and drag her back if I had to.
When he finally closed his eyes, his breathing soft and steady, I slipped out. I needed answers. Sowhere, Dr. Harry had the answers I needed—what exactly was it that wanted to rip her from us, and what in hell’s na we could do to stop it. Last stage, first stage, whatever it was, I didn’t care. I was going to find a way to keep her here.
I found Dr. Harry in his office, hunched over a stack of charts, flipping through them with that sa frown doctors seem to wear as if it’s part of their uniform. He looked up as I entered, his expression shifting from concentration to polite recognition. My throat tightened. For a mont, I could only stand there, taking in the sterile scent of antiseptics and paperwork, knowing he held answers that could either shatter or salvage what was left of my world.
"Dr. Harry," I greeted, my voice rougher than I’d ant. I had no idea where to start, no idea how to untangle the storm of fear and desperation raging inside . But I knew one thing—I needed answers.
"Alpha," Dr. Harry called out as he rose from his chair, his gaze steady, respectful. "What may I be of service?"
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Doc... I need to know. Leila’s condition. Is there any hope? Any chance of recovery?"
He hesitated, his eyes softening with sothing that looked like pity—a look I hated. "I’m very sorry, Alpha," he said quietly. "But the Luna... she’s in the last stage. At this point, only her will to live will determine how long she has left."
The words hung in the air, each one colder and heavier than the last. Only her will to live. It felt like the ground had just dropped out from under , leaving suspended in a terrifying freefall.
I sank into the chair behind , legs too weak to hold up, my mind numb as the reality settled over like a thick, suffocating fog. Dr. Harry’s voice cut through it, soft and filled with a regret that made the hollow ache in my chest throb even harder.
"Alpha, please forgive ," he murmured, pausing as though choosing each word carefully, as though each one added weight to a truth I wasn’t ready to bear. "Just know... I’m doing everything in my power for you, for Leila, and for the little Alpha who’s growing stronger every day."
With that, he gave a brief, solemn nod, then turned, excusing himself to continue his rounds. I barely noticed him leave, his footsteps fading into the sterile quiet of the hospital. I was alone with nothing but the silence—and the growing dread that even hope might be slipping through my fingers.
Leila POV:
When Dr. Harry entered, I stirred, the thin fog of sleep quickly giving way to the tension I carried like armor. I greeted him with a nod, and he stepped closer, his expression a mix of urgency and caution.
"Luna," he began quietly, "the Alpha ca to see . I just left him in my office." He hesitated, glancing at the door, then continued, "I told him you were at your worst, the second phase is now in motion. Now, it’s up to you to finish this. I advise you, whatever you’re doing—do it quickly. I don’t like lying to my Alpha, and my own life is on the line for covering this up."
"Thank you, Dr. Harry," I murmured, my heart pounding with a mix of dread and determination. "I’ll try to end this soon, to finally expose Lily. I know the risk you’re taking—believe , I’ll speak to Drake on your behalf, if he spares for what I’m putting him through." My voice wavered, but I forced myself to go on. "But I had no choice. No one would believe if I told them Lily was the one who poisoned . This is the only way."
Dr. Harry nodded, a fleeting look of sympathy crossing his face. "Then, Luna... may the Moon give you strength." And with that, he slipped back out, leaving alone to carry the weight of my final chance to reveal the truth.
This is going to be harder than I thought. How am I supposed to make Drake believe I’m dead while the mate bond still pulses between us, strong and alive? He’ll feel it, I know he will. The bond isn’t supposed to linger after death—it should go cold, silent. How am I going to fool him when everything in still reaches for him, calls out to him?
I took a shaky breath, steeling myself. All right, then. I have to trust that Lily’s own pride will be her downfall, that it’ll drive her to gloat, to reveal her hand before I slip away—well, pretend to slip away. And if she does, if she shows Drake her true face, then maybe all this pain will be worth it.
Just a little longer, I told myself, gripping the sheets as the weight of my plan settled over . Just long enough to end this, even if it ans risking the one thing that still keeps alive: him and my child.
Oh God, I hope this works. If it doesn’t, everyone will think I not only poisoned myself to escape my responsibilities, to try and abort my child but also, a liar. A coward. They won’t just see as weak; they’ll brand as soone who deceived them all, manipulating their sympathy for my own gain.
And poor Dr. Harry... What will happen to him? He’s taken such a risk for , and if I fail, he’ll be dragged into this ss, incriminated for trying to help . I can’t let that happen.
This has to work. It must work. I can’t bear the thought of dragging anyone else down with , of watching the fallout of my failure ripple through our lives. There’s too much at stake—my son, my mate, the truth. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. I have to find a way to make this believable, to ensure Lily’s pride blinds her to the danger of her own sches.
I won’t let this be in vain.
I can already feel the pain Drake is enduring through the mate bond, a throbbing ache that mirrors my own turmoil. He must be suffering, believing I’m on the brink of death because of my deceit. God, it hurts to know I’m the cause of his pain, but I’m doing this for him, for our child. If only he had trusted , believed that I wouldn’t go through with an abortion. If he had only seen the truth in my heart, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic asures.
But here we are. Now I have to show him I’m innocent, that I’m not the villain in this story. I need to prove that I’m fighting for our family, and that Lily is the true threat lurking in the shadows.
This is my only chance, and I’ll make it count. I can’t let him drown in doubt and despair, thinking I chose to leave him and our child behind. He needs to know the truth, even if it ans tearing apart the fragile fabric of trust we’ve woven. I just pray he can forgive when it’s all over.
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