Chapter 23: Poisoned Shadows

Chapter 23 : Poisoned Shadows

Her POV

I felt it immediately.

The warmth of the tea slid down my throat, but it wasn’t comforting. My stomach churned violently. My chest tightened. My legs wobbled beneath me. I grabbed the edge of the table, trying to steady myself, but the world spun around me.

“No… no…” I whispered, panic creeping into every corner of my mind. My hands shook as I pressed them against my stomach. The baby… oh oh, my baby!

A sharp pain ripped through me, and I doubled over. My vision blurred. I wanted to scream, but my voice felt trapped in my throat. I staggered backward, my back hitting the wall. My knees buckled. I couldn’t breathe.

“Help! Somebody help me!” I yelled, my voice raw and desperate. The sound echoed in the empty room, bouncing off the walls, but no one came. No one could see me.

And then I heard her.

Calyra. Her calm, almost musical voice cut through the chaos in my mind. “Don’t blame me, Maltida,” she said, each word like a knife slicing into my heart. “I warned you. I told you to leave. To run. To escape safely with your child. But you didn’t. You stayed.”

I blinked, barely able to lift my eyes. She was standing at the doorway, her posture perfect, her expression cruel but calm, as if she was enjoying every second of my suffering. “Isn’t it because of the child he cherishes you?” she whispered, stepping closer, though careful not to get too near. “Now… that child will be gone. He will no longer cherish you. He will trash you… like you were never here.”

My chest heaved. I couldn’t breathe. My tears burned my cheeks. I wanted to run, to scream, to fight, but my body refused to obey. The spinning in my head, the weakness in my legs, the stabbing pain in my stomach—it was all too much.

“I… I…” I tried to speak, but no words came out. My throat felt tight, locked, as if my voice had been stolen from me.

Calyra smiled, a cruel, satisfied curl of her lips. “I will make sure you scream here… and no one will come for you,” she said softly, stepping back into the shadows. “You had your chance, Maltida. You should have listened.”

Before I could even think to respond, she was gone. The door closed with a faint click, and the sound of silence was almost louder than her voice. My mind raced. The world tilted. My body felt like it was falling apart, but I forced myself to move. I had to survive. I had to protect my baby.

I stumbled toward the cupboard where I kept the pills. My hands shook violently as I opened the small box. My fingers found the pill I needed, the one the doctor had told me to use if anything felt wrong with me or the baby. I pressed it to my lips, my hands trembling so much that I almost dropped it.

I swallowed.

Immediately, a wave of relief started, faint but real. My breathing became slightly easier. My head was still spinning, but I could feel the strength slowly creeping back. My knees were still weak, my body trembling, but I could think. Just barely.

I sank to the floor, clutching my stomach, tears streaming down my face. My chest heaved with sobs I couldn’t stop. “I… I have to survive,” I whispered to myself. “I… I will survive. I must…”

And then—

The door slammed open.

“Matilda!” His voice cut through the haze like a sword. Sharp, urgent, commanding. I froze. I could feel my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Ronan.

He rushed to me, his eyes wide, full of concern. His presence filled the room instantly, grounding me somehow even as my panic surged. “What happened?!” he shouted, lifting me gently into his arms. I trembled violently, clutching my stomach, too weak to explain.

He looked at me with disbelief, fear, and… something else I couldn’t name. His jaw was tight, and his eyes scanned me frantically. “What… who did this? Are you hurt? Are you—”

“I… I…” I couldn’t form the words. My body shook uncontrollably, my tears flowing freely. The room spun around me.

Ronan’s hands were everywhere—on my back, supporting me, holding me close. “Stay with me! Stay with me! I’m not leaving you!” he commanded, his voice steady, strong, and unwavering. He carried me toward the bed, laying me down carefully as if I were the most fragile thing in the world.

Then he shouted, loud and full of authority, “Call the pack doctor! Now!”

A warrior ran immediately, his face pale but attentive. Ronan stayed by my side, holding my hand, stroking my hair, whispering my name. His eyes never left me. He didn’t scold me. He didn’t question me. He didn’t judge me. He just stayed, grounding me in a way no one else could.

I wanted to tell him about Calyra, about the tea, about the poison. I wanted to scream it all, to beg him to protect me and my baby. But my voice was gone, stolen by fear. All I could do was cling to him, feel the heat of his hands on mine, the strength of his presence, and pray. Pray that the pill would work. Pray that I would survive.

My vision blurred with tears, my chest heaving with sobs, but somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark ignited. I wouldn’t die. Not here. Not like this. Not without fighting.

And even though I was weak, even though I was terrified, even though Calyra’s shadow loomed over me like a curse—I knew one thing: I was not alone.

Ronan was here.

And as the warrior ran to bring the doctor, I squeezed my eyes shut, whispered a prayer for my child, and let myself feel, for the first time in days, the raw, shaky hope that maybe… just maybe… we could survive this.