Chapter 52 Chapter 52
Three weeks had passed since Zarlia arrived in Vancouver, and Caroline had learned to read the signs. The way her friend would grip the edge of the counter when she thought no one was looking. The subtle wince when she laughed too hard. The increasingly frequent trips to the bathroom where Caroline would hear muffled retching through the door.
And the abortion appointment that kept getting rescheduled.
"So," Caroline said carefully, pushing her scrambled eggs around her plate, "I rebooked the appointment for Thursday. Two o'clock. Dr. Chen said she could fit you in—"
"Actually," Zarlia interrupted, not meeting her eyes, "I was thinking maybe next week would be better. I've been feeling a bit off, and I want to make sure I'm—"
"Zarlia." Caroline set down her fork. "That's what you said last week. And the week before that."
Zarlia stared at her coffee—decaf, which she'd barely touched—and said nothing.
Caroline felt something warm bloom in her chest despite the worry. "You want to keep it, don't you?"
"I don't know," Zarlia whispered. "I don't know what I want."
But Caroline could see it in her friend's eyes, in the way her hand would unconsciously drift to her still-flat stomach when she thought no one was watching. Zarlia wanted this baby. Whatever complicated situation she was running from, whatever reason she had for leaving, she wanted—
Zarlia's fork clattered against her plate.
"Zarlia?" Caroline's voice pitched higher as her friend's face went white, then gray. "Hey, are you—"
Zarlia doubled over, her hands clutching her stomach as a gasp of pain tore from her throat. She slid from her chair, knees hitting the hardwood floor with a sickening thud.
"Oh my God!" Caroline was around the table in an instant, dropping beside her. "Zarlia, what's—"
Blood. Dark red blood trickling from the corner of Zarlia's mouth, dripping onto her pale blue shirt.
Caroline's world tilted. "No, no, no—" She was already reaching for her phone, hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. "I'm calling 911, we need to get you to a hospital—"
"No!" Zarlia's hand shot out, gripping Caroline's wrist with surprising strength despite the pain clearly wracking her body. "No hospital. It's... it's normal."
"Normal?" Caroline's voice broke on the word, tears already streaming down her face. "You're coughing up blood! That's not normal, that's not—Zarlia, please, you're scaring me—"
"The pup," Zarlia managed through gritted teeth, breathing hard. "It's growing fast. It's just... the pup..."
"Pup?" Caroline's brain stuttered over the word, confusion cutting through her panic. "What do you mean pup? Zarlia, you're not making sense—"
"It's nothing," Zarlia insisted, though her face was still twisted in pain. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her skin. "It'll pass. It always passes."
"Always?" The word came out sharp, almost angry. "This has happened before? How many times? How long have you been—"
Something inside Caroline snapped.
"Stop." Her voice was cold now, controlled in a way it hadn't been moments before. She pulled back, putting distance between them as Zarlia slowly pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily against the kitchen island. "Just stop."
Zarlia looked up, surprised by the tone.
"I let you stay here," Caroline said, and there was a tremor in her voice now, the careful control starting to fracture. "No questions asked. You showed up terrified and pregnant and clearly running from something, and I didn't push. I didn't ask about the father, or why you left, or what you're so scared of. I've been helping you with everything—appointments, groceries, holding your hair back when you're sick—and I haven't asked for a single explanation."
"Caroline—"
"I was okay being in the dark at first," Caroline continued, her voice rising. "I thought you just needed time, that you'd tell me when you were ready. But I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you suffer and not know why. I can't watch you bleed and have you tell me it's normal when we both know that's a lie. I can't—"
Her voice broke completely then, tears flowing freely now. "I'm scared, Zarlia. I'm so scared for you and I don't even know what I'm supposed to be scared of."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Zarlia stared at her best friend—this person who had opened her home and her heart without hesitation—and felt something crack inside her chest.
Caroline looked hurt. Really, truly hurt in a way that made Zarlia realize how selfish she'd been, expecting unconditional support while giving nothing in return.
"Okay," Zarlia said softly. "Okay. I'll tell you everything."
They moved to the living room, Zarlia still shaky as she sank onto the couch. Caroline sat across from her, arms wrapped around herself like armor, eyes red but determined.
And Zarlia told her.
Everything.
She started with Stetson—not just that he was the father, but what he was. An Alpha werewolf. The leader of a pack, bound by ancient laws and hierarchies that humans couldn't begin to understand. She told Caroline about how they'd met, how impossible it had seemed, a human falling for a creature from stories and nightmares.
She explained the pack system, the rigid structure, the violence that simmered beneath the surface of their world. How challenges were settled with teeth and claws, how bloodlines mattered, the letters, how humans were seen as weak, temporary, disposable.
Caroline listened, her expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and dawning horror.
Zarlia told her about the pregnancy, about discovering she was carrying a werewolf's child and what that meant. How the baby—the pup—was growing too fast, its supernatural nature warring with her human body. How every day brought new pain, new blood, new proof that her body wasn't meant to carry this life.
"It's killing me," Zarlia whispered, the admission tearing out of her like a confession. "Slowly. The pup is too strong, growing too fast. My body can't handle it."
"Then why—" Caroline's voice was strangled. "Why haven't you—"
"Because it's mine," Zarlia said simply, hands pressed to her stomach. "It's part of me. Part of him. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to let it go, even if keeping it means..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
Zarlia was scared about the baby and scared about not having the baby too. Everything was scary, she couldn’t believe the mess she put herself in but yet, like Stetson—she couldn’t bring herself to regret any of it.
Zarlia continued, telling Caroline about Mimi, Stetson's sister who had broken the sacred laws by creating a blog, by documenting their world for anyone to see. She described the attack, the pack members sent by Mimi's own father to silence her permanently. The claws, the blood, the terror of watching Mimi fight for her life.
"That's when I knew," Zarlia said. "That's when I understood what this world really was. They would have killed her. Stetson's father would have killed his own daughter to protect their secrets. And I thought... what would they do to me? A human carrying an Alpha's child? What would they do to my baby?"
She looked up at Caroline, eyes bright with unshed tears. "So I ran. I left in the middle of the night because I was terrified that if I stayed, they'd either kill me or take my baby and raise it in that world of violence and hierarchy and rules I could never understand. I thought... I thought running was the only way to keep us both safe."
When she finally finished, the apartment was silent except for the distant sound of traffic outside. Caroline sat frozen, her face pale, her hands gripping the edge of the couch cushion so hard her knuckles were white.
Then she laughed.
It was a short, sharp sound, almost hysterical. "Okay," she said, shaking her head. "Okay, that's... that's quite a story. Werewolves. Ancient packs. Supernatural pregnancies. I mean, I'm not a fool, Zarlia. I know when someone's—"
She stopped abruptly, her eyes meeting Zarlia's.
Zarlia wasn't smiling. Wasn't showing any sign that this was some elaborate joke or breakdown or cry for attention. Her expression was serious, sad, and utterly genuine.
"Oh my God," Caroline breathed. "You're serious. You're actually... this is real? Shit!"
"Check Mimi's blog," Zarlia said quietly. "She documented everything before the attack. It's still up. Her username is MidnightMimi."
Caroline's hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone, typing with fumbling fingers. The blog loaded slowly, and Caroline scrolled through it with increasing disbelief.
There were newspaper clippings of unexplained animal attacks that fit too-specific patterns. Photographs taken in darkness showing shapes that were neither fully human nor fully wolf. Detailed posts about pack hierarchy, territorial disputes, the laws that governed their hidden society. Personal stories from Mimi's own life, growing up in a world where transformation was as natural as breathing.
Location data. Names. Evidence that would have exposed their entire world if anyone had taken it seriously instead of dismissing it as an elaborate roleplay or fiction blog.
Caroline scrolled and scrolled, her face cycling through shock, horror, and something like grief as her entire understanding of reality rearranged itself.
"I need..." She set the phone down with trembling hands. "I need a minute."
Zarlia nodded, giving her space.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Caroline sat with her head in her hands, breathing carefully like she was trying not to hyperventilate. When she finally looked up, her eyes were red but clear.
"Show me," she said.
"What?"
"Show me something. Proof. Not the blog, not stories—something real."
Zarlia hesitated, then pulled down her shirt slightly, revealing the bite mark on her nape. And then her stomach,there, just visible beneath the skin, were marks—not quite bruises, not quite scars. They moved as Caroline watched, subtle shifts beneath the surface like something pressing from the inside out.
"The pup," Zarlia said softly. "Sometimes you can see it moving. It's stronger than a human baby would be at this stage. So much stronger."
Caroline stared, her hand halfway reaching out before she pulled back. "Jesus Christ," she whispered. "This is real. This is actually real."
Then, without warning, she launched herself forward and wrapped Zarlia in a fierce hug.
"I'm so sorry," Caroline said into her hair, holding her tight. "God, Zarlia, I'm so sorry. Everything you've been through, everything you're still going through—and you've been dealing with it alone."
Zarlia felt tears sliding down her cheeks as she hugged back, finally allowing herself to fully break down. "I was so scared," she admitted. "I'm still scared. I don't know if I made the right choice leaving. I don't know if keeping this baby will kill me. I don't know anything anymore."
"You're not alone," Caroline said firmly, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "Not anymore. We'll figure this out. Together."
Her phone started buzzing on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with "Mom" for what had to be the twentieth time that day.
Caroline glanced at it, her jaw tightening, but she didn't move to answer. Instead, she silenced it and turned back to Zarlia.
"She can wait," Caroline said, and there was steel in her voice now. "My friend needs me. Everything else can wait."
Zarlia felt fresh tears spring to her eyes. "Your stepmom—"
"Can wait," Caroline repeated firmly. "You matter more. This matters more." She took Zarlia's hands in hers, squeezing gently. "We're going to figure this out. I don't know how yet, but we will. And whatever happens, you won't face it alone."
The phone buzzed again, another ignored call joining the dozens before it.
But Caroline didn't even look. She just held her friend's hands and let her cry, two women with impossible secrets trying to survive in a world that wanted to destroy them for daring to exist outside its rules.