Chapter 10 Margaret's Collapse
1048 Words
Freya sat cross-legged on Fiona's couch, sketching idly in her notebook. Fiona handed her a cup of coffee.
A sudden sharp pain lanced through her head, making her gasp.
Luna Freya! Please come quickly! Margaret has collapsed! The doctors are with her but she's asking for you!
The mind-link was so urgent and frantic that it cut through all her mental barriers.
"What's wrong?" Fiona asked, alarmed by Freya's sudden reaction.
"It's Margaret," Freya said, already on her feet. "She's collapsed."
Vicki whined anxiously inside her. "You need to go. Whatever happened between you and Niklaus, Margaret has always been kind to you."
"I know," Freya whispered back.
"Margaret? Your mother-in-law?" Fiona asked. "Is she sick?"
"I don't know. I need to go." Freya grabbed her purse, her mind racing. "Can I borrow your car?"
Fiona nodded, tossing her the keys. "Call me if you need anything."
Freya burst through the front door of the Whitecrown Pack House, her heart pounding wildly. Several pack members looked up in surprise as she rushed past.
"Where is she?" she asked the first person she recognized.
"In the living room," the woman replied, pointing.
Freya ran down the hallway, bracing herself for the worst. She pushed open the double doors and froze.
Margaret Lockwood sat comfortably on the sofa, a teacup in her perfectly steady hands. Her complexion was rosy and healthy.
"Freya, darling!" Margaret exclaimed, setting down her cup with a delighted smile. "You came!"
Freya stood frozen, confusion and anger flickering across her face. "You're not sick?"
"Sick? Of course not," Margaret replied cheerfully. "Why would you think that?"
"I got a mind-link saying you'd collapsed," Freya said through gritted teeth. "That doctors were with you."
Margaret's face cleared. "Oh! That must have been Olivia being dramatic. I just mentioned feeling a bit faint earlier because I was worried about you."
Freya's shoulders slumped with relief, then tensed with irritation. "Was this Niklaus's idea? Getting me back here like this?"
"Niklaus?" Margaret looked genuinely confused. "He's been at work all day." She patted the sofa. "Come sit, dear. I've missed you."
Reluctantly, Freya sat. "I can't stay long."
"Where have you been?" Margaret asked, worry in her eyes. "I was so concerned. Niklaus said you needed space. What's happened?"
The genuine concern made Freya's resolve waver. Margaret had always been kind, had welcomed her into the pack when others looked down on her for being an outsider.
"Things between Niklaus and me are... complicated," Freya said carefully.
"How so? You're mates. What's complicated about that?" Margaret asked.
Freya sighed, knowing she couldn't tell the whole truth without revealing the contract marriage. "I don't think Niklaus wants to be with me. Not really. I think he's just... stuck with me because of our mate bond."
Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "That's nonsense!"
"Is it?" Freya countered. "For three years, he's barely acknowledged me except when he needed something. He's never once told me he loves me. Never once made me feel like I was anything more than an obligation."
"Oh, Freya." Margaret reached for her hand. "My son isn't expressive. He takes after his father that way. Mikael hardly said ten romantic words to me in our entire marriage, but I never doubted he loved me."
"It's more than that," Freya insisted. "I'm not what he wanted. I've always known that."
Margaret's face softened. "The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes, Freya. If she made you two mates, it's because you're perfect for each other."
Freya bit back a bitter laugh. If only Margaret knew how their mating had really started--with one night and a contract drawn up by lawyers.
"Sometimes I think even the Moon Goddess gets it wrong," she said, standing up. "I should go."
"No, please," Margaret said quickly, grabbing her wrist. "I haven't been entirely honest with you. The doctors were here yesterday. My heart... it's not as strong as it used to be."
Freya froze. "What?"
"They've advised me to avoid stress," Margaret continued, her voice trembling slightly. "And knowing my son and his mate are separating... that would be very stressful indeed."
Freya couldn't tell Margaret about the divorce, about severing their mate bond.
Guilt crashed over Freya.
"I'll stay for dinner," she conceded reluctantly. "But then I need to go back to my friend's place."
Relief washed over Margaret's face. "Thank you, dear. That's all I ask."
Hours later, Freya sat at the dining table, pushing food around her plate. Margaret had kept up a steady stream of conversation about pack business. Niklaus hadn't come home for dinner. Freya wondered if the company was keeping him busy, and if he was working too hard.
She immediately chastised herself for worrying about him. He was unreasonable and controlling. He didn't deserve her concern.
After dinner, Freya went upstairs to rest. Opening the door to the master bedroom, she was struck by how unchanged it was. Her small trinkets still sat on the vanity. Her books remained stacked on the nightstand. It was as if she'd never left.
The door opened behind her, and Niklaus walked in. He froze when he saw her, surprise flashing across his handsome face before it settled into a composed mask. His tall frame filled the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled.
Deep inside, he felt a surge of satisfaction. She had come back. His strategy of freezing her assets had worked after all. Still, anger simmered at her rebellion.
"Good evening," Freya said politely, keeping her distance. "I'm only here because Margaret asked me to stay. I'll be leaving tomorrow."
Niklaus frowned, moving closer to her. "Leaving? Where do you think you're going?"
He towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the hallway. His scent mixed with another flowery scent that didn't belong to him.
Freya felt a burning, twisting knot in her stomach. Rebekah's perfume. He'd been with her.
Was that why he came home so late? Had he been at the hospital taking care of Rebekah all this time?
Ignoring Freya's silence, Niklaus reached for his shirt buttons and loosened his tie. He spread his arms, waiting--expecting her to help him undress just as she had done countless times before.
Freya stepped back, her face twisting with disgust. "Your smell makes me sick. Stay away from me."
- Writer
