Chapter 135 Chapter 124

Chapter 135 Chapter 124
Rosemary
After leaving Grace, Ethan and I made our way to the west wing, where Julie had been sheltering Aurora. The hallway was eerily quiet now, the hum of the battle already fading from the walls of the pack house like a distant memory. It was strange, the silence - after so much chaos, it almost felt wrong.
Ethan pushed open the door gently, the soft creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the golden wash of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. Julie sat in a rocking chair near the window, her posture relaxed but alert. Draped protectively across her lap, like the most delicate treasure, was Aurora.
Aurora stirred, her small, gray eyes blinking up at us with quiet uncertainty. She looked at me, her tiny face framed by a cascade of unruly black curls, and for a moment, everything else, the battle, the grief, the exhaustion, melted away. All I could see was her, whole and safe.
Julie offered me a tired but warm smile as I crossed the room. I knelt beside her and reached for Aurora, my hands trembling as I lifted her into my arms. She was soft and warm, the gentle weight of her pressing against me like an anchor to reality. I held her close, pressing my cheek to her curls, and exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
“Thank you, Julie,” Ethan said softly, stepping up beside me. His voice was steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of emotion there. “For protecting her. We will never forget what you’ve done for our family.”
Julie nodded, her expression full of respect and quiet pride. “It was my honor, Alpha,” she replied, dipping her head in a small bow.
“Go be with your family,” Ethan added, his tone softening.
“Thank you,” she murmured. With a last glance at Aurora, she slipped out of the room, leaving the three of us alone.
The silence that followed was different - heavier, but peaceful. I sank onto the edge of the rocking chair Julie had vacated, cradling Aurora close as Ethan moved to stand behind me.
I felt him before I saw him, his warmth, his presence, enveloping me like a shield as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around both of us. His chin rested gently on my shoulder, and I let myself lean into him, the weight of the moment finally settling.
“Everything we did,” Ethan whispered, his voice low but fierce, “we did for her. Don’t ever forget that.”
I nodded faintly, staring down at Aurora’s peaceful face. Her tiny hand had curled instinctively around the edge of my robe, her soft breaths steady and untroubled. She did not know what had been sacrificed to keep her safe, no idea of the dark forces we had faced, the lives that had been lost.
“She’s everything,” I whispered, my throat tight. “And I almost lost her.”
Ethan’s hold on us tightened, his forehead pressing gently to the side of my head. “But you didn’t,” he said softly. “She’s here. And so are we.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting his words settle into my chest. He was right. We were here. Somehow, against all odds, we had made it. And Aurora, my little girl, was safe in my arms.
I shifted slightly, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. Her small features were so serene, her mouth curled faintly as though she were dreaming of something sweet. I would fight for it every day for the rest of my life.
I adjusted Aurora slightly, holding her even closer as I leaned back into Ethan’s chest. Together, we sat there in silence - our little family, stitched back together after being torn apart. The world outside still felt bruised, the scars of the battle lingering in the air, but here, in this room, there was nothing but peace.
Minutes passed, though I couldn’t say how many. It didn’t matter.
Finally, Ethan broke the silence, his voice so soft it barely reached me. “She’s going to grow up strong. She’ll never have to face what we did.”
I tilted my head to look at him, my heart swelling at the fierce promise in his eyes. “She’ll have us,” I said. “And she’ll know how much she was loved.”
Ethan smiled faintly, his gaze falling to Aurora. “Always.”
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me, the events of the last day crashing down on me all at once. My body ached, my mind spun, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes again, breathing in the soft scent of Aurora’s curls, Ethan’s steady warmth against my back.
But even with the comfort of their warmth surrounding me, Andromeda’s last words echoed in my mind like a shadow, refusing to fade. She was gone, and yet, her voice lingered, threading doubt and unease into the edges of my thoughts. I knew the truth. I had seen it with my own eyes. She was dead, and with her, the child she had created to wreak havoc on this world. There was nothing left to fear.
So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that her reach extended further than her grave?
I tightened my grip on Ethan’s arm, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground me. This was real - the heat of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and Aurora’s warmth in my arms. They were real. My family.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension in my chest loosen just a fraction. Right now, at this moment, all I could do was hold on to the people I loved. The people who I would fight for again if it ever came to that.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to silence her voice.