CHAPTER 155 Again
CHAPTER 155 Again
Evie
Snow fell in thick, unhurried spirals outside the tall windows of Blood Moon Manor, blanketing the grounds in silver and silence. It softened the sharp edges of the world, muffled old echoes of war and screams, until everything felt gentler—like the night itself had finally decided to exhale.
Inside, warmth reigned.
The long dining table glowed beneath crystal chandeliers and flickering candles, crowded with friends, family, laughter, and far too much food. Someone—definitely Leon—had gone wildly overboard with the roast. Pine boughs and crimson ribbons wound around the banisters, their sharp green scent mingling with spice and wine. Firelight danced across polished wood and faces no longer haunted by fear.
Christmas eve.
I still couldn’t quite believe we were here.
He, the Alpha Lord. And I, a descendant of a High Witch.
Mated. Married. Alive.
The mating ceremony had taken place just hours earlier, beneath the open sky. No throne. No bloodshed. Just the Moon above us—full and radiant—as Maverick and I stood in a simple gazebo, surrounded by the pack, hands bound together with crimson cord as the Alpha’s oath was spoken. He had cut his palm without hesitation, pressing it to mine, our blood mingling as the Moon flared brighter overhead.
When he whispered the vow, the bond tightened—warm, fierce and unmistakably right. The pack had howled as one, the sound echoing into the mountains, sealing us not as rulers—but as equals.
I had never felt more seen.
Now, I adjusted Aurelia in my arms, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of my sleeve, while Sybil slept against Maverick’s chest, her dark hair a soft contrast against his broad hand. One white-blonde, one dark. Two heartbeats that had rewritten my entire world.
We had survived blood and prophecy and madness.
We had survived Draven.
The memories came less often now. When they did, they no longer cut. They hovered like old scars—proof of what we’d endured. I remembered the crack of power when my lightning rebounded, the way my body folded inward as labor seized me without warning. Maverick shouting. Morgana laughing. Draven’s roar as he commanded every wolf to slaughter the dark witches once and for all.
And Agatha—brilliant, terrifying Agatha—ripping open the air itself in a cloak of blinding light, dragging me through a portal straight into the infirmary where everything had already been waiting.
As if fate itself had finally decided I’d suffered enough.
Now, the aftermath looked like this: full plates, warm wine, and wolves cheerfully arguing over baby-holding privileges—while negotiating wolf bites.
“I didn’t have Sybil all morning,” Zuri protested from across the table. “It was twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes awake,” Bear shot back. “You fell asleep with her beside you the rest of the time.”
“I’m bonding,” Zuri retorted. Then she added casually, “By the way, Aurora—were you able to pick up Smith’s gift?”
“Pick up my gift?” Smith said, bristling. “I specifically put on my wishlist that I wanted a bite. You know—to turn me into a wolf.”
“Oops. My bad,” Zuri said with a shrug. “I thought you wrote down kite.”
“There’s always next year, Smith,” Agatha said, patting his arm in a valiant attempt to cheer him up. “How about I teach you how to make truth serums as a Christmas gift?”
“Oh, I want in,” Aurora chimed immediately.
“I’ll trade you,” Smith said, negotiating. “A bite for my lesson. What d’you say?”
“I’ll bite you, Smith,” Leon offered. “But you’ll have to wash my smelly socks and dirty underwear forever.”
Smith paused, carefully weighing the pros and cons. Then he extended a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Zuri swatted his hand away. “I’m telling you—don’t do it. Have you smelled his socks? It’ll make you gag. Literally.”
Choking back his laughter, Maverick smiled down at our daughter, gentle and unguarded in a way that still unraveled me. Alpha Lord or not, he never missed a feeding, never passed on a chance to rock one of them to sleep. He learned their cries faster than I had. Every spare moment, he was there—steady, present, endlessly patient.
The man who had once been all sharp edges and command now made animal-shaped pancakes and sang off-key lullabies.
I loved him so fiercely it scared me.
Aurelia stirred, pale lashes fluttering. I kissed her forehead, breathing her in—milk, warmth, and something quietly magical. She was proof that even the bloodiest stories could end in something soft.
Maverick cleared his throat and stood, lifting his glass.
The room quieted.
“I won’t make this long,” he said, earning groans and snorts. “First—thank you. All of you. For standing with us. For protecting what matters. For rebuilding after… everything.”
Glasses lifted. Murmurs followed.
“Blood Moon Spirits has done more than survive,” he continued. “Profits have soared. We’re expanding—new facilities, new territories. Carefully. Responsibly.”
Leon whooped. Zuri clapped. Smith looked suspiciously proud.
“And,” Maverick added, turning toward me, his voice softening, “now that peace has settled… Evie can go back to school if she wants. Or continue her training with Agatha. Whatever she chooses.”
My chest tightened.
Once, my life had revolved around Draven. For nearly sixteen years, I followed him wherever he went. Thinking about it now, I still can’t believe I did all of that for him.
But if I hadn’t… I wouldn’t have met Maverick.
And now—
Now, I was being offered a choice.
Before I could talk myself out of it, something mischievous sparked in my chest.
I stood.
The room went quiet again—expectant this time.
“I actually have an announcement too,” I said, unable to keep the smile from breaking free.
Maverick turned toward me, brows lifting.
I took a breath. Felt the warmth of the room. The weight of history behind me—and the future pressing forward.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
Absolute, frozen, snow-pressed-against-the-windows silence.
Someone dropped a fork.
Maverick stared at me like I’d spoken an ancient language.
Then I laughed—not nervous laughter. Real laughter. The kind that bubbled up from someplace healed.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I know. Twins are… a lot. But apparently my body and fate have decided we’re doing this again.”
Zuri’s mouth fell open. Bear muttered, “By the Moon—”
“Evie,” Maverick breathed. “You’re—”
“Pregnant,” I said brightly. “Again.”
Then I added, sweetly, “By my former best friend’s wolf uncle.”
The table erupted.
Leon choked on his drink. Zuri laughed so hard she had to sit down. Smith just shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
Maverick sank back into his chair, awe and disbelief battling across his face.
I leaned down and kissed him.
“You’re going to be a daddy… again.”
Maverick froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide, and then it hit him. The grin spread slowly at first, then bloomed into that mischievous, unstoppable smile I knew too well.
“You hear that, everyone?” he shouted, voice bouncing off the walls. “I’m going to be a daddy!”
The room erupted—cheers, laughter, and a few shocked gasps. He spun toward me, mock indignation flashing in his eyes. “No wonder you won’t touch the champagne, you little witch,” he said, shaking his head as if the world itself had conspired with me.
I laughed, warmth bubbling through me, and reached for his hand. His grin softened just enough to catch the tender edge beneath the teasing. Around us, the pack was chaos and love, and for once, the madness felt exactly right.
As I sat back down, the weight of the moment finally found me.
For just a heartbeat, sadness slipped through the cracks—quiet and unwelcome. I wished my mother could be with us, seated among the laughter and warmth, her presence woven into the day the way it used to be.
But wishes didn’t undo danger.
She had become too much of a risk, her love warped into something sharp and poisonous. And so Maverick had made the choice—cold, necessary, and final.
The dungeons were not cruelty.
They were mercy, compared to what she might have done.
Later, when the noise faded and the night softened, Maverick found me by the window. Snow fell endlessly outside, clean and quiet. Aurelia and Sybil were upstairs with Zuri, Aurora, and Smith—each of them sworn protectors now.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“You’re not angry?” I asked softly.
"Because you and the pack doctor kept this from me? No. It's the greatest Christmas gift anyone could've given me." He rested his forehead against my hair. “I’ve never been more grateful to be alive."
I turned to face him, my hands against his chest.
“I love you,” I said. Certain. Whole.
Something in him broke open—soft, reverent.
“I love you too,” he said. “More than the Alpha. More than the pack. More than the world I was born into.”
His lips found mine, slow and steady, like a promise that would never be broken.
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, our future waited—warm, loud, imperfect, and ours.
And I prayed it would stay that way.
\-----
I woke to gray light spilling through the tall windows, thin and quiet, as if the morning itself were hesitant to disturb the peace.
Christmas.
The manor breathed around me—warm stone, fading embers in the hearth, the distant hush of snow settling outside. Maverick lay beside me, one arm heavy across the blankets, exhaustion etched gently into his features. He had been up through the night again, pacing the floor with a crying pup tucked against his chest, murmuring nonsense until sleep finally won.
I leaned down and kissed his cheek, soft and lingering.
Then I slipped from the bed.
I dressed slowly—wool sweater, thick pants, boots lined for the cold—layering myself against the winter. Then, I moved quietly through the silent halls, the manor still wrapped in sleep.
The kitchen was empty when I reached it, the sky outside barely awake. I worked by habit more than thought, gathering leftovers from the night before. Slices of roast wrapped carefully. Corn bread. Cake cut into neat squares. A handful of cookies still dusted with sugar. I added a bottle of wine and tucked everything into a woven basket.
When I stepped outside, the cold kissed my cheeks. Snow crunched softly under my boots as I crossed the grounds toward the pack house, its windows already glowing faintly with life.
Inside, several young wolves were awake, moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, laughter low and easy. They froze when they noticed me, bowing instinctively.
“Morning,” I said, smiling. I pointed down the corridor. “The dungeons.”
Understanding flickered across their faces. They nodded and returned to their work.
The stone steps were colder the deeper I went. Torches cast long shadows across the walls, their flames crackling softly. I stopped at one of the larger cells and knelt, setting the basket down.
Aurora’s father looked up as I handed him a plate. Despite the unhealed rift between him and Maverick, he had always been kind to me. I poured wine into a paper cup and slid it through the bars.
He took a sip and let out a pleased sound. “Thank you, Luna. And Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said, squeezing his hand briefly before moving on.
The farthest cells were reserved for solitary confinement. The air there felt heavier, quieter. Stanley stood guard, massive and still, his presence steady and reassuring. He gave me a nod, stepping aside.
I stopped in front of the last cell and slid the viewing hatch open.
“Mom,” I said gently. “It’s me. Evie. I brought you some food.”
She sat in the corner, shoulders stiff, eyes sharp despite everything. Draven had broken both her wrists—and never had them properly realigned. Her hands were twisted now, useless for spellwork. Power gone. Control lost.
“How long will you keep me here?” she asked. “Your father needs me.”
“Dad is fine,” I said softly. “But the decision isn’t mine. Maverick can’t let you go knowing you still plan to poison wolves.”
I placed food on a paper plate, poured wine into a cup, and slid them through the food slot.
The silence stretched.
Then, from the cell across from hers, a familiar male voice broke it.
“Do I get some, Evie?”
I froze.
Then I smiled.
He was finally speaking.