Chapter 46 Chapter 46
Zarlia tried to be happy about the baby. She truly did.
She woke each morning telling herself that joy was something you learned, not something that simply arrived. That fear didn’t mean failure. That once the shock faded, she would smile without forcing it, breathe without counting, touch her stomach without feeling dread coil beneath her skin.
Stetson would be happy. She repeated that thought like a prayer. He deserved happiness—after all the guilt eating him alive, after Mimi’s broken body and the blood on his hands that hadn’t washed away no matter how hard he scrubbed.
So she tried.
Caroline made it impossible not to try.
She celebrated loudly, brightly, unapologetically. She laughed in public places, hugged Zarlia without warning, spoke of futures like they were promises already signed and sealed. She dragged Zarlia through boutiques and baby stores, fingers grazing impossibly small fabrics.
“These are onesies,” Caroline said, holding up a tiny outfit barely larger than her palm. “For new-born.”
Zarlia smiled at her support and generosity. Her lips curved. Her eyes softened. Her heart… stayed tight. She imagined the fabric-stained red. Imagined claws instead of fingers. Imagined eyes glowing gold under a moon that demanded obedience.
She bought nothing.
When she finally returned home, dusk had begun to settle, bleeding orange and violet across the sky. The house loomed ahead, large and quiet, too quiet. A chill crept up her spine as she stepped into the courtyard.
Then she heard it.
A scream.
Raw. Wet. Pain-filled.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
She followed the sound instinctively, her steps slow, cautious, each one heavier than the last. She stopped just before the open space fully revealed itself.
And froze.
Stetson stood at the centre of the courtyard like a storm given flesh.
Opposite him was a man dressed in black—unfamiliar, rigid, eyes sharp with defiance despite the tension in his posture. Around them, three bodies lay bound on the ground, ropes digging into torn skin. Blood leaked freely from deep gashes, soaking into the stone beneath them in dark, uneven pools.
Zarlia’s stomach dropped as bile slowly rose up her throat.
She recognized them instantly. The wolves from the driveway.The ones who had chased them and had clawed Mimi’s back, who had also nearly killed her.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
Stetson moved.
He grabbed one of them by the throat and lifted him off the ground with horrifying ease. The wolf’s feet dangled uselessly, nails scraping weakly against stone as he choked.
“Say my sister’s name again,” Stetson growled, voice low and vibrating with barely contained fury, “and I’ll rip your tongue out before you can finish it.”
The wolf gasped, eyes bulging, hands clawing uselessly at Stetson’s wrist.
“You broke the rules,” another wolf spat from the ground, coughing blood. “She exposed us. And we didn’t know a human would be there—”
That was it. Zarlia felt it before she saw it—the shift in the air, the way something ancient woke inside Stetson.
His body convulsed.
Bones cracked loudly, the sound sharp and sickening. Skin rippled violently as fur tore through flesh. His scream wasn’t human—it was guttural, feral, raw with centuries of rage.
Zarlia clamped a hand over her mouth.
The wolf that emerged was massive. Towering.
Dark fur bristled along a broad frame, muscles rolling beneath thick hide. His eyes burned molten gold, pupils blown wide, reflecting nothing but violence. This wasn’t the man who kissed her forehead in the mornings.
This was the truth he had never shown her. She realized why he had never shown her, she’d have run away and never come back like how she wanted to right now but she had already dug too deep; wondered too far.
Her knees trembled.
The wolves screamed as Stetson lunged.
Teeth sank into flesh with a wet crunch. Bone snapped like brittle wood. One man’s hand was bitten clean off, torn away in a spray of blood as his scream split the night.
Zarlia staggered backward, bile rising violently but she held it in.
The sounds were unbearable—snarls, tearing flesh, the sickening thud of bodies hitting stone. She smelled it then: iron and heat and death. She wanted to look away but couldn’t, somehow, she felt like that was her future. A nervous shiver ran down her spine.
When it ended, silence crashed down hard and sudden.
Stetson stood among them, chest heaving, fur slick with blood. Slowly—painfully—his body shifted again. Fur receded. Bones realigned. Skin tore and healed.
He fell to one knee, breathing heavily. When he stood again, he was human.
Covered in red—blood. He looked like what she feared.
Zarlia turned and ran.
She didn’t remember crossing the threshold. She barely remembered slamming the door behind her. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she reached the sink and vomited violently, her body rejecting everything—food, air, reality.
She slid down the cabinet and pressed shaking hands against her stomach.
“This is your world,” she whispered. “This is what you’re bringing a child into.” The thought struck her with terrifying clarity.
Suddenly pain jolt though her abdomen and she puke again—thick red liquid draining into the sink hole—she was dying. She winced, wrapping her hands around her stomach like a vice, like if she held on tight enough, she’d wake up from the nightmare she found herself in.
She decided she would abort the baby.
The guilt followed instantly, sharp and crushing, but fear was louder. Fear of claws. Fear of blood. Fear of raising something she couldn’t understand—something that might one day look at her the way Stetson had looked at those men.
She wiped her face, breathing hard, then forced herself upright.
Mimi. She needed to see Mimi.
She reached for the door—but it opened before she could knock.
Mimi stood there, pale but upright, eyes brighter than before, a strange calm settled over her features. Zarlia’s breath caught painfully. “Mimi,” she whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re awake. Are you okay?”
Mimi hugged her back, then leaned away, studying her face with unnerving focus.
“You’re pregnant,” Mimi said simply.
The world tilted. Zarlia froze. She laughed too quickly. “What? No.”
Zarlia tried not to panic and believed it was the after effect of sleeping to long but it was clear that was not possible, though she desperately wanted it to be that way.
Luke appeared behind Mimi, silent as a shadow, eyes sharp and knowing. Mimi blinked, confusion flickering. “I… felt it. Maybe I’m wrong.” Her dream wasn’t quite clear but she was sure the moon goddess revealed that Zarlia was pregnant—the light that had shun in her stomach, the talk about a new path.
Zarlia nodded eagerly. “Yeah. You are.” Mimi frowned. “You should check again.”
“I will,” Zarlia said softly. “If I start seeing signs.”
Luke placed a hand on Mimi’s shoulder. “Time to change your bandages.”
The door closed behind them. Zarlia ran to her room and collapsed onto the floor, sobbing as panic finally broke loose.
They were going to find out. Luke already knew, she could see it in his eyes. And Stetson—
Leaving was the only option. When Stetson entered later, she forced herself to stand, wiping her face.
“How was your day—”
She threw herself into his arms and he caught her while she wrapped her legs around his waist. He stiffened, then hugged her back, burying his face in her neck.
To him, it was affection. To her, it was goodbye.
“I love you,” he murmured. Her throat burned. “I know.”
When he pulled back, he smiled. “Mimi’s awake.” Relief broke through her fear. “I know.”
“Come to dinner after you freshen up.” He set her down, brushing strands of hair from her face and she nodded with a smile.
As he left, Zarlia stood alone, hands trembling over her stomach, love and terror tearing her apart. Love, she realized, was not always enough to survive the truth.