Chapter 23 Fight For Home
Chapter 23 Fight For Home
Serena
The Reaper Pack didn’t feel like home. Not at first.
It was too quiet. Too sharp. Too cold in the mornings and too still at night.
But something was changing in me… slowly.
I found myself wanting to be useful. To give back. To do more than just breathe and survive.
So, I asked Mira if I could help in the medics.
She didn’t hesitate.
She handed me a clipboard and pointed to the small modern garden built into the back of the medical wing. Unlike the wild herbs I once saw in old healer dens, this one was organized, scientific—rows of labeled planters with small glowing lights above each one. Lavender. Calendula. Valerian. Even wolf’s balm.
"This one helps with anxiety during shifting,” Mira said, pointing to a purple-leafed plant. “We extract the oil and add it to the injections.”
I blinked. “You give injections for that?”
She nodded. “It’s safer than forcing a shift. Some Reapers lose control mid-battle. This helps steady their pain before it starts.”
As I organized the vials on the steel shelves, reading each label twice, I felt something unusual.
Peace.
There were no screaming betas. No cruel jokes. No whiplash orders from Alphas who never cared. Just the sound of the air purifier humming and Mira humming softly as she typed into the medical logs.
It felt normal.
I missed normal.
Until a loud thud echoed from the hallway outside.
Mira and I both froze.
Then she bolted.
I ran behind her, heart pounding. We reached the training room. A small group of young wolves was being led out. One of them—a girl no older than ten—was clutching her arm, blood trickling down her sleeve.
“Ivory!” Mira rushed forward. “What happened?”
“Fell,” the girl mumbled, blinking through tears.
“Let me see,” Mira said gently.
I crouched beside her too.
Her forearm was scraped badly, already bruising. I grabbed the gauze from Mira’s med kit and started dabbing at the cut carefully.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You’re okay. You’re strong.”
Ivory sniffled but didn’t pull away. Then she looked up at me with big, silver-blue eyes and said something that nearly stopped my heart.
“Thank you, Miss Luna.”
I froze. “What… what did you call me?”
“Miss Luna,” she said again, a little smile poking through her pain. “You’re the Luna, right? Because Alpha Xavier is always with you.”
I opened my mouth… but nothing came out.
Luna?
The word sank into my skin like heat. My cheeks burned instantly.
Xavier.
He was always nearby. Always watching.
And somehow, I knew—he was watching now.
I glanced up and spotted one of the black buzzing drones hovering near the ceiling, almost blending in with the shadows.
My face flushed even harder.
Ivory looked down at my bump and tilted her head.
“Are you having his baby?” she asked so innocently it made my stomach flip.
Before I could answer, Mira stepped in smoothly.
“Alright, Ivory,” she said with a smile. “Let’s get that bandage wrapped and let you rest. No more questions today.”
Mira gently guided her away.
But the questions remained.
\---
Later, when things calmed down, I sat beside Mira in the garden again. I couldn’t shake what the little girl had said.
“I’m not… his Luna,” I said quietly. “Not really.”
Mira didn’t look up from her tablet. “Not officially.”
I exhaled. “She said it like it was obvious. Like it’s some title I’ve already earned.”
“It’s because you’re here,” Mira said. “Because you stayed.”
I frowned. “That’s all it takes?”
“No.” She looked at me now, eyes calm. “But it’s the start. You’re not a Luna here. Not yet. But you’re something else.”
“What?”
“You’re staying.”
The words hit me like truth I hadn’t spoken out loud yet.
Was I?
\---
That night, I cooked.
Not because I was asked to. Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
The kitchen was quiet, and the rice stew was simple. Just enough herbs, a dash of salt, and boiled chicken for flavor. My hands moved on their own—measuring, stirring, tasting.
The smell filled the halls slowly.
And then… one by one… they came.
A Reaper leaned against the doorframe, silent.
Another stepped inside, sniffed once.
A third pointed at the pot.
“Smells like peace,” he muttered. “Can I have some?”
I blinked. Then smiled. “Yes. Of course.”
I handed him a bowl. Then another. Then another.
No one said much. But they stayed.
One even said, “Tastes like something my mom used to make.”
And somehow… that was the best compliment I’d ever gotten.
I sat down with my own bowl, watching them eat.
Their faces didn’t show much. But their silence didn’t feel heavy tonight. It felt full. Like maybe, just maybe, I was part of it.
And then… the baby kicked.
I gasped softly and placed my hand over the bump.
“Hey,” I whispered. “You felt that too, huh?”
They were growing strong. Braver than me, maybe. Born into a world that never gave us a choice, but still fighting.
And for the first time since everything went wrong—I didn’t want to run.
\---
Later, after everyone left, I sat in my room with a notebook Mira gave me.
I opened to the first page and began to write.
> Dear Little One,
I didn’t know what home felt like until I found a place without a throne, without a crown, without lies.
Just people.
Just warmth.
Just quiet that doesn’t hurt.
This pack may not smile… but I think they’re the safest place on earth.
I don’t know what kind of mother I’ll be.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to forgive the past.
But I know this:
I’ll fight for you.
Every day.
Every moment.
And I’ll protect whatever we build—no matter what it takes.
Love,
Mama
I closed the notebook and placed it gently on the nightstand.
And that’s when I heard the knock.
I turned.
Xavier stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, his expression unreadable as always.
But something about the way he looked at me… softer, slower… made my heart skip.
“Looks like you’re staying,” he said.
I nodded. “I am.”
He stepped in, his gaze briefly landing on my stomach before returning to my eyes.
“You sure?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll protect my child,” I said firmly. “And this… this place… it’s starting to feel like a fight worth having.”
For a long second, he didn’t say a word.
Then he nodded once, slow and steady.
“I’ll help you,” he said quietly. “Whatever it takes.”
I didn’t cry. But I felt something melt inside me.
Like a wall… finally falling.