Chapter 177

Chapter 177
Freya's POV

Lyra's words hit me like a physical blow. "Your son didn't die. We brought him here."

Time seemed to freeze in that quiet room. My lungs forgot how to draw breath. My heart stuttered to a stop, then lurched painfully forward again. A powerful electrical current seemed to rush through my entire body, leaving me trembling where I stood.

Inside me, Ember surged forward with such force that I nearly staggered. Her howl of recognition echoed through my mind with absolute certainty.

"Mine. Ours. Pup. ALIVE."

My fingers started shaking uncontrollably. Through our soul mark, I felt Ethan's shock transform into something more complex—a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and a strange, hesitant hope that mirrored my own. He felt my emotional storm: the impossible joy warring with terror that this might be some cruel trick.

"I... I don't..." The words died in my throat as I took an unsteady step forward.

Every movement felt dreamlike, as if I were walking underwater. I was terrified this would all dissolve if I moved too quickly or breathed too deeply. The bundle in Lyra's arms shifted slightly, and I heard a soft coo that sent another jolt through my system.

Lyra stood there, her body curved protectively around the bundle, her eyes showing both fierce guardianship and—surprisingly—a flicker of reluctance. The others in the room—Noah, James, Lydia—remained silent, seeming to understand the gravity of this moment.

As I approached, the bundle turned slightly, and I caught a glimpse of dark hair. My steps faltered. What if he rejected me? What if this was all a mistake?

"I can..." My voice cracked. I swallowed hard and tried again. "Can I hold him? Please?"

Lyra's arms tightened instinctively around the bundle. For one heartbreaking moment, I thought she would refuse. Then something in her expression softened as she looked at my face, perhaps seeing the raw need there.

"Of course," she said quietly. "Just... support his head, like this."

Her instructions revealed how long she had been caring for my child. The realization brought a fresh wave of pain and gratitude. With practiced movements, she showed me how to hold him before carefully transferring the warm weight into my arms.

The moment I touched him, a wave of recognition washed over me. This was my son—my flesh and blood. His scent carried hints of Ethan and me, along with something uniquely his own. He was heavier than I'd imagined, more solid and real.

Then his little face scrunched up, and he began to cry.

The sound cut through me like a silver blade. His small body tensed in my arms, his face turning red as he wailed louder. I looked up in panic, my eyes finding Ethan's across the room.

"I don't... he doesn't..." I tried to rock him gently, but the crying intensified.

"He doesn't recognize your scent," Ethan said, moving to my side. His voice was gentle, his hand warm on my shoulder. "It's not your fault."

The pain of that truth nearly buckled my knees. My own child didn't know me. The rejection cut deeper than any wound I'd ever suffered, slicing through my heart with cruel precision.

Three months of his precious life—gone. His first smile, his earliest coos, the midnight feedings that should have been mine to give—all moments I would never reclaim. Ember howled in anguish inside me, the maternal wolf instinct recognizing our pup but helpless against his fear of our unfamiliar scent.

I thought I'd experienced the worst pain possible when I believed he was dead, but this—standing here as a stranger to my own flesh and blood—was a different kind of torment. Each tear that slid down my face carried the weight of lullabies unsung, of cuddles never shared.

The emptiness in my arms all these months had become a part of me, and now, having held him for those brief seconds only to be rejected, that void seemed to expand until it threatened to swallow me whole.

Lyra stepped forward, her hands already reaching out. "May I?"

I nodded, tears streaming silently down my face as I returned my son to the woman who had been his mother in my absence. The moment he settled against her chest, his cries began to subside. She swayed slightly, murmuring soft words I couldn't hear, and he quieted completely.

Ethan's arm came around me, his strength the only thing keeping me upright as I watched another woman comfort my child.

"What's his name?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Theo," Lyra answered, her eyes still on the baby. After a hesitant pause, she looked up at me. "I... I know you're his mother. If you want to give him a different name, I would understand."

Despite everything, a small smile touched my lips. Something about this name felt right—as if it had been waiting for him all along. "Theo is perfect," I said softly. "It means 'gift from God,' and that's exactly what he is. A miracle returned to us when we thought all hope was lost." I looked at the peaceful child in her arms. "No, I wouldn't change it. You chose well."

A flicker of relief crossed Lyra's face, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Her eyes softened, and she glanced down at Theo with unmistakable tenderness.

I looked more closely at the child—at Theo. His cheeks were round and healthy, his skin a warm, vibrant color. His eyes, when they briefly opened, were already showing hints of silver, like Ethan's. Despite all he'd been through, he seemed to be thriving.

Then I noticed Lyra more carefully. The dark circles under her eyes, the way her clothes hung loosely on her frame. She had sacrificed her own health to keep my son safe. I remembered what she had said about Kassak and Riley, about the conditions in Bloodclaw territory. This woman had protected my child at great personal risk.

I turned to Ethan, whose emotions I could feel wrestling through our bond—caution, wonder, suspicion, and a fierce protectiveness that matched my own.

"They need to stay," I said quietly but firmly. "Here, with us."

It was both a request from a wife and a command from an Alpha's mate. The room fell silent, waiting for Ethan's response.

"We can arrange temporary quarters," he finally said. "Under guard, until we're certain of their intentions."

Rovak nodded from his chair, his expression a mixture of relief and wariness. "We understand. We'd do the same in your position."

"Thank you," Lyra added, her voice soft but her eyes still alert, like a mother wolf ready to defend her pup at any moment.