Chapter 232: The King, the Dragoness, and the Beta Disaster
Chapter 232: The King, the Dragoness, and the Beta Disaster
The door to the royal bedroom finally burst open, revealing a sweating Caleb and a panting Lya, her features tense, hair in disarray, clinging to her mate’s shoulder like a lifeline.
In the hallway, the manor was already in full chaos.
“IT’S HAPPENING!” Drake was yelling, arms raised like a general on a battlefield.
He held a towel, an unplugged walkie-talkie, and an empty coffee mug.
At his feet, Loric, wide-eyed and still in his pajamas, clutched Bouboule tightly. He wore a miniature soldier’s helmet (courtesy of Drake) and held a flashlight upside down.
“Baby mission activated, soldier!” Drake barked in a dramatic tone.
Loric nodded very seriously, delighted to be acting like the grown-ups.
Caleb let out a low growl as he carefully made his way down the stairs, Lya pressed against him.
“Drake. Why is the entire manor awake?”
“Strategic anticipation. When your mate sounds like an active volcano, you don’t stay under the covers, Chief.”
“That was a restrained groan,” Lya growled.
“A roar worthy of Fenrir,” Drake corrected.
“And your mug is empty,” Caleb pointed out.
“The coffee lives in my soul.”
“Where’s Malick?” Lya asked through clenched breaths.
As if summoned by her voice, Malick appeared—impeccably groomed, dressed in a black hoodie, and radiating Olympic calm. The SUV was already running.
“Vehicle’s ready. Bastien has been notified. The delivery room is sterilized. I suggest departure in under two minutes… unless Drake triggers the apocalypse.”
“Too late!” Drake shouted, leaning over the railing to scream through the pack link: “Eloraaaa! Caleb put his dragoness in express delivery mode! Come babysit your grandson!”
Lya grimaced but said nothing. Each contraction stole her breath. Yet her gaze remained as regal as ever.
A soft, warm, familiar voice answered in their minds moments later: “On my way. Two minutes out. I’ll watch Loric. Go.”
“Thank you,” Lya breathed.
“Mom’s got this,” Caleb assured her.
He hugged Loric briefly—a rushed but powerful embrace.
“You’re the guardian of the manor until I return, my son.”
Loric nodded solemnly.
“I’ll protect Bouboule.”
“That’s all I ask,” Caleb replied, trying not to cry. Or panic. Or both.
Drake bolted toward the front door.
“Let’s move out! Before Lya turns Caleb into barbecue on legs!”
“DRAKE!” Lya growled, at the end of her rope.
“I’ll stop talking. I am the embodiment of discretion,” Drake swore… just before tripping on the rug and nearly slamming into the doorframe.
Lya raised an eyebrow.
“He’s really your Beta?”
“Technically, yes. And unfortunately, he’s not faking it.”
Caleb helped his mate to the SUV, while Malick opened the rear door with military efficiency. Lya climbed in with difficulty, while Drake buckled his seatbelt like his life depended on it.
“It’s not a seatbelt. It’s an anti-explosion barrier,” he declared, snapping the buckle into place.
Malick took the driver’s seat. Caleb closed the door behind him. One last glance back: Loric, helmet askew, raised his hand in a little soldier’s salute.
“Baby mission engaged,” Caleb murmured, almost choked up.
Then he climbed into the front seat.
“And may the universe have mercy on us all.”
A few minutes later
The black SUV screeched to a halt in front of the pack hospital, headlights casting a ghostly glow over the building’s clean white facade.
Malick didn’t even wait for the engine to die. He leapt out, opened the rear door in one fluid motion, and held out a hand to Lya, who, despite the pain, got out with dignity—or as much as a dragoness in labor at 4 a.m. could muster.
Caleb, on the other hand, exited like an automaton. Eyes wide, breathing shallow, jaw clenched. He was ready to face an army of witches. But this? Not now. Not like this.
“Don’t panic,” Lya whispered through another contraction.
“I’m not panicking,” he answered, voice just a tad too high.
“You’re growling at the door handle, my love.”
At that moment, the hospital’s automatic doors slid open, revealing Bastien, looking grave and focused, Soraya in a half-buttoned doctor’s coat over her nightwear, and Myrria with her hair pinned up and glowing runes running along her arms.
“Room 3 is ready,” Bastien announced. “My team’s in place.”
“Delivery room secured,” Myrria added. “Runes activated.”
“And I’m here to make sure no one loses a limb in the panic,” Soraya chimed in, her calm tinged with amused mockery.
“HELLO. I’M HERE TOO.”
Drake’s booming voice made the glass panels tremble. He appeared, arms raised like he was presenting an invisible trophy.
“I’ve ensured the pack stays at a distance. Parking access is closed, gawkers turned away. The future queen’s going legendary, and we don’t want groupies waving 'Team Kaelan' signs in the hall.”
“Drake, shut up,” Caleb growled.
“Want me to faint to make room? I can do that.”
“By all the ancients…” Bastien muttered. “He’s even more unbearable at night.”
“But so efficient,” Myrria sighed with a faint smile.
A sudden contraction brought Lya to a halt, doubled over. Caleb rushed to her side to support her. But this time, he felt something more… a ripple of energy, a draconic vibration radiating from her like a silent shockwave.
“He’s coming,” she whispered, voice full of emotion. “I can feel it. He’s ready.”
Everyone looked at each other. Soraya stepped forward, gently placing a reassuring hand on Lya’s shoulder.
“Then let’s do him proud.”
She turned to Caleb.
“You’re going in with her. And you’ll breathe. Got it?”
Caleb nodded. But the truth was, his breath was caught somewhere between pride and sheer panic.
“Drake, Malick… you’re on exterior control,” Soraya concluded.
“Yes, ma’am,” Malick answered steadily.
“Time to put the world on pause,” Drake declared, clapping his hands.
“The future of the pack is coming!”
And while the pack held its breath, and the manor fell into a hushed, anxious stillness under Elora’s watchful eye, Caleb crossed the threshold of the delivery room, hand in hand with his mate—ready to face the only battle where one can only tremble, love… and hope.
Back at the manor
The family home had returned to calm. After the chaos of the sudden departure, only a few dim lights still illuminated the hallways. A cottony silence reigned, broken only by the faint ticking of the living room clock.
In Loric’s room, an oversized blanket had been turned into a fortress.
Nestled inside, the little Beta-in-training clutched his dragon feather like a sacred treasure. His wide eyes stayed fixed on the door, unblinking. He was bravely resisting sleep.
When Elora entered—barefoot, with a cup of herbal tea in one hand and a smile in the other—she wasn’t surprised to find him still awake.
“You standing guard, little wolf?” she whispered.
He nodded solemnly.
“Gotta stay up. Kaelan’s coming. And Dad left with Mom. Someone has to protect the house.”
Elora smiled, touched by this pure little burst of loyalty.
“I think you’re the bravest of us all,” she said, sitting down beside him.
“You know your mama’s in very good hands, right?”
Loric looked up at her. Then, slowly, he held out his feather.
“Do you think… Kaelan will get one too? So he’s not scared at night.”
Elora took the feather gently, twirling it between her fingers. A faint bluish glow pulsed, like a heartbeat.
“I think Kaelan will never be afraid. Because he’ll have a big brother like you.”
Loric blushed, burying his face against Bouboule—who let out a soft bark, courtesy of Lina’s enchantment that still held firm.
“Can I sleep in the living room?” he asked with a yawn.
“That way, if the baby comes home… I’ll be the first to say hello.”
“Deal,” Elora said, lifting him gently into her arms.
A few minutes later, a blanket was laid over the couch in the grand living room. Loric, sound asleep, feather in hand and Bouboule tucked against his cheek, looked like a little prince awaiting his coronation.
Elora remained for a moment, watching over him.
Then, in a whisper meant only for him:
“You don’t know it yet, little heart…
…but you’ve just begun your greatest mission.”