Chapter 323
Bella
I couldn't stop staring at Liam as he leaned heavily against the stone wall, silver blood seeping through his torn shirt. The metallic scent mixed with his Alpha pheromones created a nauseating cocktail that made my stomach lurch.
"Liam, you're insane!" The words tore from my throat as tears blurred my vision. "You could have died!"
He grimaced, pressing his hand against the wound where Frost's silver blade had found its mark. "I wasn't going to let you get hurt again." His golden wolf eyes flickered between human and beast, fighting the poison spreading through his system. "I made that mistake once. Never again."
The irony wasn't lost on me. This was the same Alpha who'd chosen Selina over me. Yet here he was, bleeding silver for me.
"We need to move," Freya's voice cut through my emotional spiral.
---
By the time we reached the extraction point, Liam had collapsed twice. The silver was moving faster than his Alpha healing could compensate for. His face had gone ashen, sweat beading on his forehead as his body fought a losing battle.
"Stay with me," I murmured, gripping his hand as Freya's team loaded him into the medical transport.
"Bella," Liam's voice was barely a whisper, raw with remorse and pain. His golden eyes, usually so fierce and commanding, now struggled to focus on my face. "I know I've been a complete bastard. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But what I feel for you..." His words faltered, his breath labored. "...that's the kind of love that makes an Alpha willing to die for you."
I squeezed his hand tighter, my wolf instinctively responding to his pain with a deep, primal need to comfort him. "Don't talk like that," I said firmly, though my voice wavered. "You're going to be fine."
But even as I spoke, I could feel his wolf retreating deeper within him, conserving what little energy it had left to fight the silver poisoning his bloodstream. His breathing grew shallow, his once powerful body now weakening by the second. The sight of it tore at my heart.
"The baby," he whispered suddenly, his voice barely audible. My breath caught in my throat. Somehow, he'd sensed it—the secret I'd been holding so close. His weakened gaze flickered to my abdomen, then back to me. "Is it...?"
"Yes," I replied, the word softer than I intended. "It's yours."
His eyes fluttered shut, but I felt his fingers tighten around mine, faintly yet determined. "Then I have even more reason to survive this," he said, his voice carrying a sliver of the strength I'd always admired in him.
A moment of silence passed between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, his eyes opened slightly, and he searched my face with a desperate intensity. "Bella," he began, his voice trembling, "if I make it through this... if I survive... could you ever forgive me?"
As I looked at him—his face pale, his body broken, and yet still fighting—I realized how much I still cared, despite everything. My wolf stirred within me, a low hum of connection, of instinct, of a bond that couldn't be so easily severed.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I know you'll have to fight like hell—not just for your life, but for your pup."
---
The hospital was a flurry of activity when we arrived. Jackson immediately wheeled Liam into surgery, leaving me stranded in the sterile waiting room with its uncomfortable chairs and harsh fluorescent lighting.
Freya sat beside me, her Alpha presence both comforting and intimidating. Despite everything she'd endured recently with Flynn's accident, she maintained controlled composure.
"Silver extraction surgery can take hours," she said quietly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My hands kept drifting to my stomach, where our child grew, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding its existence.
"Bella." Freya's tone gentled. "I know what Liam did tonight was brave. Heroic, even. But you need to understand something—you don't owe him anything because of it."
"I mean that one act of courage doesn't erase months of neglect and betrayal," her amber eyes held mine steadily. "You're pregnant, scared, and vulnerable. It would be easy to see his sacrifice as proof that he's changed, that he's worthy of forgiveness."
The words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.
"You have choices, Bella. You can forgive him, try to rebuild something, or choose to raise your child without him. Whatever you decide, I'll support you. But don't let pregnancy and gratitude cloud your judgment."
I stared at the surgery doors, thinking about Liam's blood on my hands, his whispered confessions, the way he'd looked when he learned about the baby.
Three hours later, Jackson emerged from surgery, still in his scrubs. My heart hammered as I read his expression.
"The surgery was successful," he announced, and I felt my knees nearly give out with relief. "We removed all the silver fragments, but he'll need time to recover. The poisoning was severe—another hour and we might have lost him."
At long last, a profound sense of relief washes over me.
Looking toward the operating room, I knew I was facing a decision that would shape both my future and my unborn child's.
---
Celia
The private medical wing of my island villa was quiet except for the gentle hum of monitoring equipment. I'd been sitting beside Michael's bed for the past hour, watching for any sign of change.
My fingers traced the edge of his hand where it lay motionless on the white sheets. "I know you can hear me," I whispered. "Maybe I'm being foolish and I should prepare myself for the possibility that you might not wake up."
Michael's face was peaceful. The machines had kept his body functioning, but I needed his mind, his spirit, his terrible jokes and unexpected tenderness.
"But losing you... I can't even imagine it. You've been my constant for so long, Michael. My anchor when everything else felt uncertain," I continued.
A slight tremor ran through his fingers, so subtle I almost missed it. My breath caught as I leaned forward, studying his face intently. Had I imagined it?
Then his eyelids fluttered—just once, but unmistakably real.
"Michael?" My voice cracked on his name. "Michael, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the faintest pressure against my palm, weak but deliberate. Tears spilled down my cheeks as his eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first, then gradually finding my face.
"Celia." His voice was rough from disuse, barely more than a breath, but it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
"You're back," I sobbed, bringing his hand to my lips.
I couldn't stop touching him, reassuring myself that he was real, that he was here.