Chapter 94 A Second Life

Fiona’s POV.

Please, Micah, come back home.

I am wide awake, looking at the clock, my heart in my throat.

It's the dead of night, and Micah still isn't home.

He has completely shielded himself from me, so I can't sense him through the mate bond either. I sit on the couch with my arms wrapped around my knees, refusing to budge.

Amelia is fast asleep in her room, and Havier sits in a chair at the front door, his big frame enveloping the chair, and his eyes darting around alertly.

Our apartment is quite far from the palace and where Jason must have attacked. Initially, we had decided to reside here, because Micah couldn't bear to be near the palace where Alara had taken over his mother's place.

Now, it's a haven for us, away from the center of war, hidden to the side. A part of me knows that this is the safest place I could be with Amelia.

We are hidden with only a few bodyguards around, so as not to attract attention. Still, my heart yearns to be with Micah. I am desperate to know how he is doing and if he is well. Anxiety grips me and I am rocking back and forth, constantly tapping my fingernails on the armrest of the couch.

"You know, you could go to sleep. Time won't go any faster like this," Havier says, breaking me out of my trance and I find his kind eyes locked on me.

"I am awake, and I'll tell you when Prince Micah is here."

I give him a soft smile. He has quickly grown on me. Throughout the day, he spent time with Amelia, giving her rides on his shoulder and cracking jokes that managed to put a smile on my face despite the tension that seemed to pull me under every time I thought about Micah. I just know he is going to be a great father to his child.

I slightly shake my head.

"I won't be able to sleep," I tell him, "not when he is out there."

He nods in understanding, and then, as if struck by an idea, he gets up and starts moving around my apartment. Havier begins to inspect the decor and picture frames I brought back from Riviera, pointing at each one and asking me questions.

I know what he is trying to do. He is attempting to divert my thoughts from the ongoing battle, and my heart warms at his consideration.

He stumbles over a painting of a lady warrior, a gift from Antonia, and smiles.

"This one reminds me of my wife, Isabella. She's a force of nature, that one." He chuckles, a warmth in his eyes as he talks about her.

"Tell me more about her," I urge, eager for the distraction.

Havier grins, clearly delighted to share. "She's got a laugh that can brighten the darkest days but God, is she a mama bear due to her pregnancy. She insists on having the strangest cravings at the oddest hours," he says with a bemused expression. "Just the other night, I found myself searching for pickles and ice cream at midnight because that's what she wanted."

We share a laugh at the absurdity of it, and for a moment, the weight of worry about Micah lifts.

Then he turns to me and with a serious expression, he says, “I know you are worried about Prince Micah but I can’t tell you how grateful I am that he is out there protecting our home, creating a safe place for my wife and my unborn baby to be. Nobody is saying it but everybody in Alastair already thinks of him as king. They will protect him with their lives.”

Tears come to my eyes as I listen to his words. They are a balm to my soul and they give me comfort.

Just like that, Havier hops over to the next picture, smiling widely and lightening the mood. It’s crazy how for such a big person he is so light on his feet.

Now, he stands before the picture of the white wolf and pauses, exclaiming.

"A white wolf! Oh, how my wife would love to see this painting. If you don’t mind, I would love to bring her here when this is all over. We live just across from here. She's a huge nerd when it comes to werewolf legends. She goes on and on about the white wolves and the myths that surround them. She said that white wolves can burst into pure energy and sacrifice themselves for their packs as protectors!"

I let out a small chuckle, amused by his excitement.

"That's quite the tale," I say, my tone light. I don't mention that I know these myths all too well, that the picture is of my ancestor, and that I am a white wolf myself.

Havier continues on excitedly, "However, there is more to the legend. Isabella told me that white wolves are actually wolves blessed by the Moon Goddess so they are granted two lives. When they choose to sacrifice themselves they seem to die but in reality, they just fall into a deep slumber. If, at this point, their true mates are willing to sacrifice their lives to awaken them, they can wake up and have a second life!"

I laugh at the fantastical twist, dismissing it as pure fiction. I have never heard about this part of the legend. No one had ever told me, and my own ancestor never woke up after sacrificing herself either. It seems like Havier's wife had been indulging in a lot of imaginative literature.

However, the light conversation has successfully distracted me and before I know it, my eyes droop down and I fall asleep listening to Havier’s chatter.

____________________

I wake up to the sound of guttural screams.

My eyes snap open, and I shoot up from the couch. Havier, already on his feet, meets my gaze, his eyes etched with worry. A sense of foreboding tightens my chest.

With brisk steps, I pull the curtain aside, peering down over the street. A gasp escapes my lips, and my heart hammers against my ribs. The sentinels who guarded the apartment lay lifeless, their bodies sprawled on the pavement.

My breath catches as I take in the chilling details. Their bodies are discarded like broken toys in a child's tantrum. The ruthlessness of their murder paints a vivid horror into my memory.

Anguish washes over me, a potent cocktail of grief and anger. I turn to Havier, my voice barely above a whisper, "They're gone."

These people were brothers, fathers, sons and they died to protect me.

But, how could this happen? This apartment was far from the main battlefield. How could the Warpaw soldiers be here?

“Come out, come out, little Fiona. Come out wherever you are.”

A chilling voice breaks through and when I look back outside, I see Jason. There is an unhinged grin on his face and Jeremy stands next to him. He has his arm around a young girl who looks to be about nineteen. Her belly is rounded and it is clear that she is with child.

With horror, I see other Warpaw soldiers dragging innocent civilians from the nearby houses out on the streets.

I watch terrified as a soldier drags an old woman to where Jason is standing.

“Your husband destroyed my army. He made all my plans go to dirt but he missed one thing. He forgot he has a weakness. Too bad, his brother Jeremy knew exactly where you would be and now, one by one, I will kill these people until you and your daughter come out and hand yourselves to me.”

His voice booms through the street and before I can stop him, he takes his claw and rips apart the old woman’s throat.

I hear a strangled scream and for a moment I think it's me. It’s so full of pain and fear and I wonder if I have lost all composure in the face of this brutality.

But, then I look to the side and I see Havier pressed against the window. His shoulders are rigid and he is breathing frantically. An expression of pure horror has made his face turn ghostly pale. I follow his gaze and they lead me to the young girl in the hands of Jeremy.

There are tears falling from her eyes as she looks up at Havier.

I know who she is even before Havier says a word.

But when he does, it breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Isabella.” He whispers and almost as if hearing him from all the way down, the girl breaks into sobs, her frail shoulders shaking.

With heart-wrenching clarity, I know Jeremy has Havier’s pregnant wife in his hands and I know I cannot let her die.

Absolutely not. My decision is made.