Chapter 5 Gold Eyes at Dawn
Freda did not cry.
Not when she reached her cottage.
Not when she closed the door.
Not when she slid down against it and pressed both hands to her stomach, as if she could hold herself together.
The tears would come later.
For now, she moved.
She lit a small lamp. Soft light filled the room. It touched the narrow bed, the small table by the window, and the plain wooden walls. Everything she owned fit inside this space. She stood still for a moment and listened to the silence.
Then she bent and pulled her travel bag from under the cot.
Her hands shook as she opened the drawers.
She packed clothes first. Only what she needed. Two sweaters. One pair of worn jeans. Her boots. She left behind anything that held memories. Anything that might slow her down.
She froze when she found one of Lucian’s old shirts.
She had taken it years ago after helping with laundry. She used to sleep in it when the nights felt too lonely.
Her throat tightened.
She folded it once. Then again.
And placed it back on the bed.
She thought of James Reed.
James, who never looked at her like she was less than anyone else. For a moment, she thought about going to his door. She could tell him she was leaving. She could ask him to look after Marina.
But that would put him in danger.
And James would ask questions.
She had no answers.
So she sat on the edge of the cot and tore a page from her notebook.
She wrote slowly.
James,
Family emergency. I had to leave suddenly. I am sorry I could not explain in person. Please take care of yourself.
That was all.
She folded the note and placed it on her pillow.
Then she lifted her bag onto her shoulder and stepped out into the night.
The air was cold. The moon hung low in the sky. The pack grounds were quiet. Most of the wolves were asleep. The celebrations were over.
She kept to the darker paths.
No one stopped her.
At the edge of the trees, she turned around.
The lights of the main compound glowed through the branches. Somewhere inside those walls, Lucian was awake. Living. Breathing. Moving forward in a world that no longer had space for her.
Her chest hurt.
She waited for the bond to pull at her.
It did not.
It rested inside her, silent and distant. Not broken. Just quiet. Like something waiting.
She pressed her hand to her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She did not know who she was speaking to.
Then she walked away.
She kept walking until her feet ached. Until the pack lands disappeared behind her. Until she reached the main road, long and empty under the stars.
The bus station was small. Just a concrete shelter and a flickering light.
She bought a ticket with shaking hands.
She did not care where the bus was going. Only that it was far.
She took the last seat at the back and rested her forehead against the cool window. She watched Silverpine fade into the dark.
Her reflection stared back at her. Pale. Tired. Older than she had been that morning.
When the engine started, she pulled her knees close and wrapped her arms around herself.
Her other hand stayed on her stomach.
Alone in the dark, she made two promises.
The first was to herself.
She would never be invisible again.
She would never beg for protection again.
She would become someone they could not ignore or throw away.
The second promise was for the small life inside her.
No matter the cost, she would give her child a future.
She would become strong enough to be their mother.
The road carried her away.
Five Years Later
Morning light filled a small apartment in Millbrook.
The floors were clean. The windows were wide. Plants sat along the sill in neat rows. The space was simple but warm.
In the back bedroom, a five year old boy slept curled around a stuffed wolf. His dark hair fell over his eyes. Crayon drawings of moons covered one wall. Stuffed animals sat in a neat line on a shelf above his bed.
Liam Langford slept peacefully.
In the next room, his mother read through a case file.
Freda Anders sat at her desk. Glasses rested on her nose. Her dark hair was tied back. Her posture was straight. Notes covered the legal pad beside her laptop.
She had learned to stay calm in tense rooms.
She had learned to negotiate contracts and settle disputes. She had learned to look men in the eye when they tried to scare her. She had learned to walk into meetings and leave with signed agreements.
People listened to her now.
They respected her.
She closed the file and saved her work.
She had kept her promises.
She was someone.
And she was not going back.
She stood and stretched. Then she moved through the apartment, checking the doors and windows as she always did. Old habits stayed with her.
She looked into Liam’s room.
He was still asleep.
Her chest softened.
She turned away.
A scream cut through the silence.
Freda ran before she could think.
She rushed down the hall, heart racing. She pushed open Liam’s door and reached him in seconds.
He was sitting upright in bed.
His small hands were held out in front of him, trembling. His breathing came in quick, uneven pulls. His eyes lifted to her…
and for a split second, they flashed gold.
Bright.
Wild.
Like a struck match.
“Mom.”
Her name came out broken.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed and reached for him.
“Hey,” she whispered. “I’m here.”
Her fingers closed around his.
Heat surged through her palms.
Not warmth.
Power.
It shot up her arms and slammed into her chest, sharp and alive, stealing the breath from her lungs. The air in the room thickened, pressing against her skin. Behind her, the bedside lamp flickered once.
Her ears rang.
Instinct flared inside her, ancient, startled, dangerous.
Liam stared at her like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
Her heart began to race.
This wasn’t possible.
Children didn’t manifest like this.
Not at five.
Not with this kind of force.
Fear rose fast and bitter in her throat, not for herself.
For him.
For what he was becoming.
For what would happen if anyone else felt this.
She tightened her grip on his small hands, willing her voice to stay steady even as her pulse thundered.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “I’m right here.”
His fingers curled weakly around hers.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Mom,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
“What’s happening to me?”