Chapter 284

Chapter 284
Drea stared at him, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something less terrible.
They did not.
Logan stood across the room with his face drained of color, his eyes fixed on her stomach as if he could already see death moving beneath her skin. The fire behind him burned steadily, throwing light across the hard lines of his body, but nothing in the room reached the cold gathering in Drea’s chest.
“What do you mean the baby is going to die?” she asked.
Her voice sounded too calm. She heard that and hated it. She wanted to scream at him, to force him to take the sentence back, but fear had tightened every part of her body until even breathing required care.
Logan dragged a hand over his mouth. “Project X did more than alter my father. Robert continued the experiments after Damien died. Years later, when I went after the people who remained, they caught me.”
Drea’s stomach turned. “Caught you?”
“For three days.” He looked away, and something in his expression told her that whatever happened during those three days had never been spoken aloud. “They infused my blood with a magical strain designed to corrupt anything that inherited my power. Robert called it a safeguard. If I ever produced an heir, the child would begin drawing from my cold before its body could survive it.”
Drea pressed both hands to her stomach. “You are saying the baby is poisoned.”
“Not poisoned in the usual sense.” Logan’s jaw flexed. He seemed to be choosing each word because the wrong one might break her. “The strain binds itself to the child’s developing blood. The stronger the child becomes, the more aggressively it reacts. It feeds on the same energy that should help the baby grow.”
The memories came at once. Frost spreading under her fingers. Ice clinging to her palm when she woke from the dream. The sudden drops in temperature, the cold answering emotions she could barely control.
Drea’s throat tightened. “The ice.”
Logan’s eyes snapped to her face. “What ice?”
She should have told him sooner. That truth sat plainly between them now, heavy with consequence. “My hands have been freezing things. It happened on the blanket. It happened when I was with Noel. Sometimes the temperature changes around me when I get angry or frightened.”
Logan went completely still.
Drea watched the fear in his face deepen.
“How long?” he asked.
“A few days.”
“How many times?”
“I do not know. Four, maybe five.”
He turned away sharply and walked toward the window. His hands closed around the stone ledge so hard that frost spread beneath his fingers.
Drea’s heartbeat pounded harder. “Have I been hurting the baby?”
Logan did not answer quickly enough.
She crossed the room, forcing herself to stand even though her knees felt weak. “Logan, look at me. Have these powers been killing my child?”
He turned. “The cold is probably coming from the baby.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“It means the strain is active.”
Her breath caught.
Logan came toward her, stopping just before he touched her. His hands lifted, hovering near her arms, then lowered again. “It does not mean the baby is dying this second. It means we have less time than I thought.”
“You just said the baby was going to die.”
“If we do nothing.”
The words cut through the panic enough for Drea to hold on to them. “Then we do something.”
“There is a treatment.”
Her body loosened by one fraction. “What treatment?”
“A root called Chaplin root. It contains a compound that can suppress the strain long enough for the baby’s blood to stabilize.”
Drea stared at him. “What in God’s name is Chaplin root?”
“Robert referred to it by its chemical name. Three-four dihydroxybenzoic acid. Protocatechuic acid.”
She blinked. “That did not answer my question.”
“It is a rare medicinal root treated with alchemical salts. The compound by itself will not be enough. The root has to be prepared by someone who understands how it interacts with altered blood.”
“Where can we get it?”
Logan looked toward the door.
Something in his face closed.
Drea’s fear sharpened into anger. “Do not do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look as if you are about to leave and decide everything without me.”
“I need to speak to my mother.”
“Why?”
“She knows more about the remaining Project X stores than anyone here.”
Drea remembered Brianna standing on the terrace, watching her vomit into the snow with satisfaction in her eyes. “You expect me to trust her with this?”
“I did not ask you to trust her.”
“You expect me to trust you while you speak to her without me.”
Logan’s expression tightened. “I need a minute.”
“You have had years to tell me this.”
The accusation landed. He looked as if she had struck him, but Drea could not stop now.
“You knew you wanted a breeder,” she said. “You chose me for that purpose. You brought me here, told everyone what I was meant to give you, and never once thought to mention that any child you made might die.”
“I did not know the strain remained active.”
“You knew there was a chance.”
“I believed Robert had lied.”
“You believed what was convenient.”
His eyes hardened. “That is not fair.”
“Neither is this.”
They stood facing each other, both breathing too quickly. Drea’s hands began to shake, and she tucked them against her sides before the cold could appear again.
Logan saw the movement. “Sit down.”
“I am not sitting down.”
“You are frightened, and the strain reacts when you lose control.”
“Then stop giving me reasons to lose it.”
His face shifted. Anger disappeared, leaving guilt behind. “I am sorry.”
The words were quiet enough that Drea almost missed them.
Logan took one step back. “I need to speak with Brianna. I will come back as soon as I know where the root is.”
Drea stared at him. “And if she refuses to help?”
“She will not.”
“You sound very sure.”
“She wants my heir more than she hates you.”
The answer made Drea feel sick for an entirely different reason.
Logan opened the door, then paused. “Stay here. Try to remain calm. Do not use the cold if you can stop it.”
“I do not know how to stop it.”
“I know.”
That was the last thing he said before leaving.
The door shut, and Drea stood alone in the middle of the room with both hands covering her stomach.
She waited for movement beneath her palms. It was too early for that, she knew, but reason had little power against fear. The child existed as an idea, a secret, a faint change in her scent and body. Now it existed as something threatened.
She sat on the bed because her legs finally refused to hold her.
Had every burst of ice taken something from the baby? Had every cold dream, every flash of anger, every moment of fear fed the strain Logan described? She remembered waking with frost across her palm after dreaming that she stabbed him. She remembered the blanket freezing beneath her fists. She remembered the air changing in Noel’s room.
Her baby had been trying to speak through her body, and she had hidden it.
The thought made breathing difficult.
Rita came first.
She entered with a tray and a cautious smile that disappeared when she saw Drea sitting with both hands locked over her stomach.
“I brought soup,” Rita said. “Alice said you should eat.”
Drea kept her gaze on the floor. “Leave it there.”
Rita set the tray down and lingered. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
The lie felt useless now.
Rita stepped closer. “You look frightened.”
“I said I am fine.”
Rita stopped. Hurt crossed her face, and Drea regretted the sharpness immediately, but she could not gather enough strength to apologize.
“Should I find Logan?” Rita asked.
“No.”
“Alice?”
“No.”
Rita waited another moment, then nodded. “I will be outside if you need me.”
Drea did not answer.
Cole came later, still wearing his patrol coat. He stood near the door with his hands clasped behind his back, watching her in the severe way he always did.
“Alpha Logan ordered additional guards outside this room,” he said.
Drea looked up. “Of course he did.”
“There is a border threat.”
“From Kael?”
Cole’s expression barely shifted, which confirmed it.
“What does Kael want?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
“You know something.”
“I know the Snow Pack is preparing.”
Drea laughed bitterly. “Everyone knows something except me.”
Cole’s gaze moved to her stomach and away so quickly that she almost missed it. Noel had not told him. At least, she hoped he had not.
“You should rest,” Cole said.
“Please leave.”
He remained where he was. “Do you need the doctor?”
“No.”
“You are pale.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
Cole hesitated. “If there is danger, stay close to this room. The inner corridor can be sealed.”
Drea looked at him. “Am I being protected or contained?”
His face stayed unreadable. “At the Snow Palace, those things often look the same.”
Then he left.
The day faded slowly. Drea remained on the bed, staring at the ceiling until the firelight replaced the pale daylight on the carved beams. Logan did not return. Neither did Alice. Brianna stayed absent, which meant whatever conversation was happening between mother and son had lasted far longer than Drea could tolerate.
By nightfall, fear had burned itself into anger.
She was tired of waiting in rooms while other people discussed her body, her child, and her future. She was tired of being told to rest whenever the truth became difficult. She was carrying the endangered baby. She was the one freezing blankets, vomiting in snow, and dreaming of Logan’s death. Yet everyone else seemed to believe she should sit quietly until decisions arrived.
Drea left the room without asking permission.
Cole was no longer outside. Two younger guards stood in his place, and both shifted when she opened the door.
“I need to see Logan.”
“The Alpha is occupied.”
“I did not ask.”
One guard tried to step in front of her. Drea looked at him until he moved aside.
She walked through the palace with her anger holding her upright. She knew where Logan’s room was, though she had never entered it alone. The corridors were quieter at this hour. Guards stood at the stairwells, and servants kept their eyes lowered as she passed.
When she reached his door, she did not knock.
She pushed it open and walked in.
Steam drifted from the adjoining bathroom. Logan stepped through the doorway at the same moment, naked except for water running down his body. His dark hair was wet, droplets clinging to his shoulders and sliding over his chest. He stopped when he saw her.
Drea’s prepared words vanished.
Her gaze dropped before she could stop it, following the line of water over his abdomen. Heat rushed into her face. Logan watched her openly for one long second, then reached for a towel with infuriating calm.
“You could knock,” he said.
“You could come back when you say you will.”
He wrapped the towel around his waist. “I was speaking with Brianna.”
“For half the day?”
“It became complicated.”
Drea folded her arms. “Everything becomes complicated when you do not want to explain it.”
Logan crossed to a chair and sat, his wet skin still glistening in the firelight. He looked tired, but Drea was far beyond caring.
“Isn’t this what you wanted from the start?” she demanded. “You wanted a breeder. You made sure everyone in this place knew that was why I was here. You wanted an heir, and now you are telling me I cannot have my baby?”
Logan’s face tightened. “That is not what I said.”
“You told me the baby would die.”
“I told you there is a treatment.”
“Then tell me where it is.”
“I am trying to confirm that.”
“What has happened until now, then?” Drea continued, her voice rising. “What was the point of taking me from Westside, keeping me here, making an arrangement, sleeping with me, and letting this happen if you knew your blood carried something that could kill a child?”
“I told you I believed the strain was inactive.”
“And you were wrong.”
“Yes.”
The immediate admission stopped her for half a breath.
Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I was wrong, Drea. I should have told you there was a possibility. I should have warned you before I touched you. You can hate me for that later. Right now, I need you focused on staying alive long enough for us to fix it.”
“My baby,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Not just me.”
His gaze softened, though fear remained beneath it. “Both of you.”
Drea took a step closer. “Tell me where to find Chaplin root.”
“I already said I am working on it.”
“What, there is nothing in that greenhouse your mother is always in?”
Logan exhaled and looked away.
That small reaction told her everything.
“There is only one place in the world that has a viable supply,” he said.
Drea waited.
“A hospital in South Carolina.”
She stared at him. “South Carolina?”
“Yes.”
“That is thousands of miles away.”
“I know.”
“How long do we have?”
“I do not know exactly.”
The room went cold around her.
Logan stood. The towel stayed secured at his waist, but Drea barely noticed his body now. The fear in his face had returned, controlled but present.
“Brianna confirmed that the hospital received the last stored Chaplin root from one of Robert’s abandoned research sites,” he said. “It is kept in a sealed medical vault. They use fragments of it for rare cases involving blood-magic contamination.”
“Then send someone.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because the root starts degrading once it leaves its containment vessel. The treatment must be prepared with blood from both parents.”
Drea’s hand tightened against her stomach.
Logan came closer. “To protect the baby, we both need to go out for it.”
The reality of that settled slowly. Leaving the palace meant crossing Snow territory, border lines, and whatever threat Kael had sent. It meant stepping outside the walls while Brianna watched, Noel knew, Kathryn suspected, and someone in the south wanted something Logan possessed.
Drea searched his face. “When?”
“As soon as I can secure a route.”
“And if Kael is waiting?”
“He will regret it.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
Logan stopped directly in front of her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat still coming from his damp skin. His eyes held hers, steady and grave.
“We cannot treat this here,” he said. “We cannot trust anyone else to carry the root back. We cannot wait for the strain to grow stronger.”
Drea swallowed.
Logan stepped closer.
“We need to leave the Snow Palace”