Chapter 6
1358 Words
"What son, Romona?"
Renner’s voice was a low, terrifying growl that vibrated through the floorboards. He stepped closer to the bed, his broad frame blocking the light, his piercing green eyes locked onto mine with a suffocating, lethal intensity.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The blood-transfusion exhaustion was still pulling at my limbs, making my head swim, but the sheer cold panic cleared the brain fog instantly. I had almost exposed Noah.
Before I could force my dry throat to form a lie, Gideon stepped directly into Renner’s space, shoving a broad hand against his brother’s chest.
"Back off, Renner," Gideon snarled, his voice dropping an octave into a protective, razor-sharp warning. "She just bled herself dry to save your unborn child and your Luna. You don't get to stand over her like an interrogator."
"She said she has a son, Gideon!" Renner roared, his Alpha aura flaring so hard the glass lamp on the bedside table rattled. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching.
"It's a war orphan!" Gideon barked back without missing a single beat, his tone filled with raw, unshakeable conviction.
I held my breath, staring at the back of Gideon’s leather jacket. Gideon knew. He was the only person in this entire territory who knew about Noah—he’d held him, played sword fights with him in my cottage yard during his secret visits over the last three years.
"She took in a boy from the eastern border raids two years ago while serving the Royal Elite," Gideon lied smoothly, throwing his shoulder back to lock eyes with his brother. "A three-year-old child whose parents were slaughtered by rogue packs. She took him in, gave him a home, and raised him as her own. So lower your damn voice before you start jumping to pathetic, desperate conclusions, Alpha."
Renner’s eyes flicked over Gideon’s shoulder, searching my face for any sign of a crack. My warrior training kicked in; I hardened my expression, forcing a cold, bitter glare onto my features despite the panic clawing at my throat.
"Gideon speaks the truth," I said, my voice steady and icy. "I adopted a child who had no one. He is my son. And I am currently stuck in your territory while he is miles away waiting for me."
Renner stared at me, his chest heaving, the conflict in his green eyes swirling between dark suspicion and a painful, lingering regret. He let out a harsh exhale, stepping back half a pace, though the tension in his shoulders didn't relax.
"You're weak," Renner said quietly, his voice raspy. "You need rest. The packhouse quarters—"
"I am not staying in this packhouse," I cut him off sharply, struggling into a sitting position despite the dizziness that threatened to pull me back down. "I won't sleep under the same roof as you and Cassandra. I came here to do a job, and now I'm bound by a magic curse. Give me a place near the border."
Renner’s brow furrowed. "Romona, the border is—"
"Give her the guard cottage near the western treeline," Gideon interjected smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's secluded, close enough for her to get to Cassandra if the baby’s bond destabilizes, and far away from your suffocating pack politics."
Renner looked between us, his jaw tightening at how seamlessly Gideon defended me. "Fine," Renner growled softly, his eyes lingering on mine for a heavy, agonizing moment. "The western cottage. But guards will be stationed at the perimeter. For your safety, Romona."
"I don't need your guards," I muttered, but he was already turning, pulling open the heavy door and disappearing down the corridor.
An hour later, Gideon helped me navigate the winding forest path to the western border cottage. The air was cool, smelling of damp pine and autumn leaves.
The moment we stepped inside the small, stone-walled cottage and shut the door, the cold mask slipped from my face. I sank into a wooden chair by the hearth, dropping my face into my hands.
"He almost had us, Mona," Gideon murmured, pulling up a chair opposite me. His usual teasing smile was completely gone, replaced by the grave, protective look of a man who would tear down walls for the people he cared about. "You need to be careful. Renner is looking at you like a starving man looking at a feast. He's searching for any excuse, any connection."
"Thank you," I breathed out, looking up at him. "If you hadn't jumped in with the war orphan story..."
"I've got your back. Always have," Gideon said gently, reaching across the small table to briefly squeeze my hand. "Noah is safe. You built a good life for him at the royal border."
I closed my eyes, trying to focus. But as I sat in the quiet room, my mind drifted back to the transfusion—to the blinding flash-vision I had experienced right before I collapsed.
The dark, shrouded figure in the lower Archives. The silver chalice. The whispering of ancient, dark incantations.
Someone inside Ash River was intentionally feeding dark magic into Cassandra to trigger the rejection. It wasn't just a natural tragedy—it was an active inside job.
Before I could voice the thought to Gideon, a sharp, rhythmic tapping sounded against the high glass window near the roof.
Gideon was on his feet in a second, his hand instantly going to the hilt of his blade. He walked silently to the window, unlatching the shutter. A small, dark raven flew inside, landing heavily on the wooden table in front of me. Wrapped tightly around its leg was a tiny leather scroll sealed with a unique, encrypted Royal Elite stamp.
My blood ran cold. That was the emergency seal from my personal guard back at my home cottage.
With trembling fingers, I snapped the seal and unrolled the parchment. The handwriting was jagged, written in desperate haste:
Commander,
An hour ago, our perimeter was breached. Armed men—wearing unmarked gear but carrying Ash River pack signatures—attacked the cottage. Two of our guards were killed in the skirmish. They didn't steal anything. They were searching the rooms—specifically looking for you or a child.
I managed to flee with Noah into the woods. We are currently hidden in the eastern caves, but we cannot stay long. They are hunting.
The parchment shook violently in my hands. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as sheer, unadulterated terror flooded my veins.
They attacked my home. They knew about Noah, or at least suspected enough to send killers to verify it.
"Mona? What is it?" Gideon asked, stepping closer, his eyes scanning my pale face.
"Ash River... or someone operating inside this pack... attacked my cottage," I whispered, my voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and fear. "Two guards are dead. They were hunting for Noah."
Gideon swore under his breath, his knuckles turning white around his sword hilt. "Dammit."
"I have to move him," I panicked, standing up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. "He's hiding in the eastern caves, but he's three years old, Gideon! He's scared, he's cold, and mercenaries are tracking him. I need to bring him somewhere safe—somewhere close—"
I stopped, the horror of my situation slamming into me like a brick wall.
I was magically bound to Ash River territory for the next six months. I couldn't leave to go get him myself without dying and killing Cassandra's baby. But if I brought Noah anywhere near this territory, or if Renner caught wind of a three-year-old boy being brought to the border, his suspicions would explode.
Where could I hide my son that was close enough for me to protect him, but completely invisible to Renner and the traitor hunting us?
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