Chapter 79
Lowell had listened to Nana’s plea — not to kill Marco’s son. He’s innocent, she had said, her voice weak but certain. For that reason, Melissa, her unborn child, and mother Eleanor were spared.
One month has passed already. Now, both women — Nana and Melissa — are close to their delivery day. But the journey feels different for each of them. Melissa walks around with ease, glowing, her hands often caressing her round belly as if carrying a blessing. Her laughter sometimes echoes softly in the corridors.
But for Nana… every day feels like life is being pulled out of her, thread by thread. Her skin has lost its color; her body, once strong and graceful, now lies almost still.
Lowell hears the whispers. He catches them behind closed doors, behind lowered eyes and hurried steps. The same whispers he remembers hearing as a child — about the Lycan bloodline.
“The Lycan seed is evil. A fruit that eats up its own tree as it grows. And when it ripens, the tree dries and dies.”
He never wanted to believe it. But the truth stands before him. His own mother had died the moment she gave birth to him. He has never forgotten the hollow look in his father’s eyes.
Now, fear grips him tighter than ever. The thought of losing Nana — the only light he has known — suffocates him. Regret seeps deep into his bones. If he could turn back time, he would have kept his distance. He would have spared her this pain. But it’s too late now.
He sits beside her, always. He watches her sleep — or tries to sleep. Her brow is always furrowed, her face tight with pain. The soft groans that escape her lips cut straight into his heart. Her breaths are shallow, her skin clammy.
Lowell can feel it — every twist of agony in her body. His Lycan feels it too. Lana, her wolf, only manages to reach him through faint whispers in the mind link. Her voice sounds thin and tired.
“My Mate…”
She is losing strength. Fast.
“Ughhh…”
Nana groans again, twisting her legs as though trying to outrun the pain shooting up from her abdomen.
Lowell winces. He feels it too — a sharp wave that curls around his waist and tightens like a chain. He leans over her, placing his hand gently on hers. His large frame towers over her fragile form, his long hair falling over his shoulders and draping onto the bed like a silken curtain.
He releases his scent, warm and thick, filling the room and wrapping around her like a cocoon. He has learned that this helps. It soothes their son, who kicks restlessly inside her, and for a while, it lessens her pain.
Nana exhales, her tense body easing just a little. Her breathing slows, and her eyelids flutter closed.
Lowell keeps his hand on her belly, feeling the faintest kick beneath his palm. He leans in, whispering softly, “Easy… I’m here. Both of you… I’m right here.”
The room is silent except for her faint breathing and the ticking of the clock on the far wall.
Then comes a knock.
“Alpha,” Nathan calls from the doorway, his voice low.
Lowell doesn’t turn. His eyes stay on Nana.
“Speak,” he says softly.
Nathan steps into the room, standing by the doorframe. Felicia sits quietly in the corner on a small couch. She watches the way Lowell hovers protectively over Nana.
Felicia smiles to herself. The Moon Goddess did well. She knows deep down that if Nana had stayed with Marco, misery would have been her fate. But here, even with all the pain and fear, she is cherished. She is loved beyond measure. Felicia thanks the goddess silently.
But the smile fades almost immediately. Because the risk of carrying a Lycan child is real. And Nana’s life hangs by a thin thread.
“We must leave for the trip, Alpha,” Nathan reminds, his tone gentle but firm. “We have barely an hour left to arrive at the neighboring pack.”
Lowell finally looks at him. His expression is dark, grim.
“Can’t you see?” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t leave her like this. Her condition worsened last night.”
He turns back to Nana, brushing her damp hair away from her face. His thumb caresses her cheek.
Nathan exhales softly. “I know, Alpha. I understand. But we’ve already rescheduled twice. We cannot do it again.”
Lowell’s jaw clenches. His mind knows Nathan is right. But his heart refuses.
“My mate is in critical condition,” he says quietly. His voice trembles just a little.
Nathan steps closer. “Leave her in the care of Felicia and the healer. My lady is strong. She will hold on until you return.”
Lowell closes his eyes briefly. He knows he cannot afford to miss this meeting. Alliances are fragile. Trust must be honored.
He stands slowly, his heart heavy. He takes two steps toward the door… and stops.
He turns back abruptly and moves to the bed, leaning down over Nana. He lowers his head until his lips brush her forehead. He breathes deeply, releasing so much of his scent that the air in the room thickens.
The air becomes heavy — warm, intense, almost suffocating to anyone else. Felicia quickly ties a cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes water slightly, but she stays quiet. She knows this is what Nana needs in Lowell’s absence. His scent will comfort her and keep their son calm.
Lowell lingers a moment longer. His hand strokes over Nana’s stomach again.
“I will be back soon,” he whispers into her ear. “Hold on for me. Please.”
Her fingers twitch weakly in response.
He straightens slowly, his heart twisting painfully in his chest.
Nathan holds the door open. Lowell hesitates once more. His eyes lock on Nana’s face — pale, damp, but beautiful.
Then he turns and walks out, the weight of his steps echoing down the hall.
Lowell sits stiffly at the end of the long polished table, surrounded by Alphas and Betas from allied packs. The room is filled with conversations, plans, and agreements, but none of it sinks into him. His mind keeps drifting back to her.
He pictures her in that bed, pale and weak, fighting every breath, every movement. He clenches his jaw and forces his eyes back to the elder Alpha standing opposite him, speaking about border security.
Lowell nods, though he barely hears the words. His heart beats faster than it should. His wolf stirs uneasily, sending ripples of anxiety through him.
He folds his hands on the table, tight enough for his knuckles to whiten.
Nathan watches him carefully from the side, saying nothing.
Lowell clears his throat when he feels eyes on him.
“The proposal on trade,” another elder says, bringing him back to the moment, “we await your approval, Alpha Lowell.”
He forces himself to sit up straighter. He breathes in, letting his chest rise slowly, and exhales through his nose. He won’t leave. He must stay. For his pack.
His Lycan growls low inside him.
Lowell lifts his gaze and speaks evenly. “Proceed with the draft. Ensure there are no loopholes for exploitation.”
Nathan gives a small nod, silently pleased that his Alpha is trying to hold ground.
But even as Lowell speaks, that weight on his chest does not lift. A tight knot sits in his stomach. His foot taps restlessly beneath the table.
The meeting continues. Discussions about patrol reinforcements, resource distributions, agreements between younger Alphas. Lowell listens, but only in fragments. His mind drifts to the last time he left her alone and the panic in her eyes. He shuts his eyes briefly, steadying himself.
“She has Felicia. She has the healer,” he reminds himself silently.
“She’s safe. I need to trust that.”
The men at the table laugh at a joke someone makes. Lowell forces a polite smile, but his eyes drop to the table again.
Another presentation begins. Charts. Numbers. Statistics. All he can see in his head is Nana gripping the sheets, her body arching in pain.
He swallows hard.
Nathan leans toward him slightly. “Alpha?”
Lowell straightens again, steeling himself. His voice is firm, despite the storm inside him. “Continue.”
The meeting stretches on. Each passing second feels longer than it should. His mind and body are both present and absent. He fights the urge to stand up, to walk out, to run straight back to her. But he doesn’t. He sits there, holding himself together, because he knows he has to.
Still, the dread sits quietly inside him, refusing to leave.