Chapter 250 The End Of The Beginning
Chapter 250 The End Of The Beginning
•CASSANDRA•
Six months. It felt impossible that so much time had passed since Dante and I stood in front of our pack and promised ourselves to each other. Yet, here we were, gathered in the living room with candles lit and a small cake Mandy had insisted on baking despite Alena's protests that she should be resting more.
"You didn't have to go through all this trouble," I answered, watching Mandy set the cake down on the table with far more pride than the lopsided frosting deserved.
"Of course I did," she replied. "Six months married to the Lycan King and you're about to give birth any day now. This family needs something to celebrate that isn't a funeral or a war."
Alena laughed from the couch, one hand resting on my shoulder as she passed behind me. "We haven't had cake for a long time, Mom."
Dante sat beside me, his arm draped along the back of the couch, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, nothing was chasing us. No warriors at the border, no council plotting against us, no Damon lurking somewhere waiting to strike. Just the three of us, together, and safe.
"To six months," Dante announced, lifting his glass toward me.
"To six months," I repeated, clinking mine against his.
The evening moved slowly after that. Mason and Amelia called partway through to check in, Amelia's voice bright with the kind of excitement only a first pregnancy could bring, and I found myself smiling at the thought of our children growing up close in age, cousins who would probably cause just as much trouble together as we had.
I was halfway through a story about the wedding cake disaster when the pain hit.
One moment I was laughing, and the next my whole body seized around a pressure so sharp it stole the breath from my lungs. I gripped the edge of the couch, and Dante was on his feet before I even managed to say his name.
"Cassandra?" His voice had gone tight.
"I think—" I started, then stopped as another wave rolled through me, and I felt the warmth spreading beneath me before I even understood what was happening. "My water just broke."
The room shifted into motion immediately. Mandy was calling for the midwife before I finished the sentence. Dante knelt in front of me, his hands framing my face, forcing me to focus on him instead of the pain building low in my spine.
"You're going to be fine," he answered, though I could hear the effort it took to keep his voice even. "I'm right here."
The midwife arrived faster than I expected, a calm, steady woman named Greta who Gareth, Dante's father, had trusted with pack births for years. She took one look at me and immediately began issuing directions, and within minutes I was moved to the bedroom, propped against a mountain of pillows while Mandy took position beside me.
"Dante needs to wait outside," Greta announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Lycan tradition. Fathers don't witness the birth itself."
"I'm not leaving her," Dante replied, his jaw tightening.
"You'll be right outside that door," I answered, squeezing his hand despite the pain twisting through me. "It's fine. Go."
He didn't look convinced, but he pressed a kiss to my forehead and let Mandy guide him out, casting one last look at me before the door closed between us.
What followed blurred together into something I could barely track. Greta's voice, steady and instructive. Mandy's hand gripping mine hard enough to hurt.
The pain building and cresting in waves that stole every coherent thought from my head until there was nothing left except the need to push, over and over, my whole body screaming with the effort.
"Almost there, Cassandra," Greta answered somewhere through the haze. "One more. Just one more."
I pushed with everything I had left, and then, all at once, the pressure broke.
A cry filled the room. Small and sharp and unmistakably alive.
For one perfect second, relief crashed through me so completely that I started crying along with him, my son, finally here after everything it had taken to reach this moment.
Then Greta went silent.
I lifted my head, my body still shaking from exhaustion, and found Greta staring down at the baby in her arms, her face drained of all color.
"What is it?" I asked, panic climbing up my throat. "What's wrong?"
Greta didn't answer. She just stared, her hands trembling around him, and then she screamed so loud that I felt as if she would burst the baby's eardrums.
"Give him to me," I demanded, reaching forward despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle in my body. "Give me my son."
Mandy's face had gone pale beside me, though she said nothing, and Greta didn't move at first, her arms still curled protectively around the baby as if she couldn't decide what to do with him.
"Now," I answered, my voice cracking. "He's my child. Give him to me."
Whatever hesitation had held her still finally broke, and she stepped forward, placing my son carefully into my arms.
I looked down at him and screamed.
The bedroom door slammed open before the sound had even finished leaving my throat, and Dante was there instantly, crossing the room in two strides, his eyes wide with a fear I'd never seen on him, not once, not even in the worst moments we had survived together.
"Cassandra," he answered, dropping to his knees beside the bed, his hands reaching for me. "What happened? What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer him. I couldn't do anything except stare down at the child in my arms, my whole body frozen, while Dante's gaze finally dropped to follow mine.
When he finally looked at the baby, his face froze, and he fell to his bottom on the floor, speechless.
All I could think about was how this was all my fault.
My beautiful little boy had been born with the curse that I should've done everything I could to prevent it.
The marks covering his tiny face weren't natural. They looked monstrous, and as I held him against my chest, I knew our nightmare had only just begun.