Chapter 43 Chapter 43
The phone felt heavier than it should have in Zarlia’s hand.
She stood near the window, curtains half-drawn, the night bleeding into the glass like ink. The house was quiet in the way only late hours could make it—not peaceful, but watchful. Every sound felt amplified. The distant hum of electricity. The faint creak of wood settling. Her own breathing.
“Are you okay?” Caroline asked again, softer this time. Zarlia wasn’t particularly close to her but Caroline could tell she needed someone in times like this—times she knew nothing about but only felt they were hard.
Zarlia pressed her lips together. The word okay felt like a lie too fragile to survive being spoken aloud.
“Yes,” she said finally, her voice steady by force alone. “I’m okay.”
On the other end, Caroline exhaled slowly. “You don’t sound like it.”
Zarlia rested her forehead against the cool glass. The reflection staring back at her looked tired, older somehow. Like someone who had seen too much too quickly.
“A lot’s been happening,” she admitted, that was the limit to which she could confess.
“I figured,” Caroline said. “Just… don’t disappear on me again, alright? I’m always here. Whenever you need me.” Something tight loosened in Zarlia’s chest.
“I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She ended the call before the silence could pull more truths out of her.
Behind her, the hallway light glowed faintly. Mimi’s door was still open. Stetson hadn’t moved from that spot since the doctor left. She walked toward the room quietly, like the floor might protest her presence.
Stetson sat by the bed, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees. Mimi looked small beneath the blankets, her face pale, lashes dark against her skin. The steady beep of the monitor was the only proof that she was still here. She had never seen Mimi so quiet, usually by now she would be engaged in an argument with Luke.
“It’s late,” Zarlia said gently. “You should sleep.”
He didn’t turn. “I will.” Zaelia sighed, “You’ve been saying that for hours.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. It was tense, rigid, like stone beneath her fingers. “She’s stable,” Zarlia said. “The doctor said—”
“I heard him.”
Silence stretched.
“You don’t have to stay here all night,” she added. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.” This was the one thing she didn’t like about his -apart from the part he was a total control freak- he always wants to bear the burden alone like it was a weight only him had to carry even though he’s clearly breaking.
Her heart ached at the certainty in his voice. “Then I’ll stay with you.”
That got his attention. He looked up at her, eyes dark and tired. “No.”
“Stetson—”
“You need rest.” His tone softened, but the resolve stayed. “Please.” She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him she was scared too. That watching him break like this was unbearable.
Instead, she nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “But I’m right down the hall.”
He stood, guiding her gently toward the door, hands warm, careful—like if he wasn’t gentle, everything might shatter. “I’ll be here,” he said again.
She hesitated at the doorway, looking back at Mimi. Then at him.
“I love you,” she said quietly. He closed his eyes for half a second. “I know.”
Sleep came in fragments and when she woke, the room felt wrong. The other side of the bed was empty. Cold. Untouched. She sat up—and pain ripped through her abdomen like a blade.
Her breath hitched. “Ah—”
Her legs gave out as she tried to stand. She slid to the floor, palms scraping against wood as she landed hard on her knees. The pain intensified, sharp and deep, curling her inward. She coughed—
And blood splattered across the floor.
Her mind went blank. Her hand shook as she touched her lips. Red smeared across her fingers.
“No,” she breathed, panic crashing over her in waves. “No, no, no…”
She forced herself up, legs trembling, and stumbled into the bathroom. She turned on the sink and leaned over it, rinsing her mouth again and again until the water ran clear. Her reflection stared back at her—eyes wide, face ashen, fear carved deep.
Stetson can’t know. Not now.
She wiped the sink and floorboard clean. Washed her hands. Changed her clothes.
When she entered Mimi’s room, she found Stetson asleep at the edge of the bed, head tilted forward slightly, fingers still wrapped around his sister’s hand.
Her chest tightened. She moved closer and brushed his hair back gently. He looked younger like this. Vulnerable. Human.
“I’ll handle this,” she whispered, though she didn’t know who she was saying it to.
She left quietly.
Luke was gone. The house felt hollow without him.
She dressed, ate slowly, forcing food down past the nausea, and stepped outside. The morning air was cool, biting. It grounded her.
She texted Caroline and headed to the hospital.
The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and old coffee. Caroline arrived quickly; her face filled with concern.
They ran tests. Took blood. Asked questions.
“Come back next week,” the doctor said at last. “We’ll have results.”
Next week felt like a lifetime.
Over lunch, Zarlia told Caroline everything—about Mimi, the attack, the fear, the exhaustion. She left out the impossible parts like werewolves and secrets. Even if she did tell her, Caroline wouldn’t believe her, in fact no one would.
Caroline listened, eyes steady.
“If something feels wrong,” she said firmly, “you tell me. Promise.”
“I promise.” They hugged tightly before parting.
When Zarlia returned home, tension hit her immediately. Stetson was pacing Mimi’s room, hands clenched, jaw tight. The moment he saw her, relief flickered across his face—quickly replaced by worry.
“Where did you go?” he asked. “I met a friend,” she said easily.
His eyes searched hers. “You should tell me next time.” There was concern in his voice, like she could go missing if he so much as let her out of his sight.
She laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, alpha.”
But his voice dropped. “I thought you left.” Her smile faded. “Why would you think that?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, like he needed the reassurance as much as she did. His lips found hers—slow, deep, aching. “I missed you,” he murmured.
Her heart clenched.
She kissed him back, knowing the secret she carried was growing heavier by the hour.
And as he held her, Zarlia wondered how long she could keep pretending everything was fine—before the truth demanded to be seen.
He kissed her throat while his hand wrapped around her waist, trailing down her inner thighs, “S—Stetson?” she tried to fight him off but her body arched into his touch. “We are in Mimi’s room”, she scolded and he let her go with a sad expression like a dejected puppy.
She could only laugh.