Chapter 209

Chapter 209
Margaret's POV

I groaned as I stretched, my entire body aching, especially my hips and abdomen. Even the simplest movements sent pain shooting through my muscles. How did women do this for centuries? I felt like I'd been run over by a truck, and I still had nearly a month to go.

"Maggie?" Dylan called from upstairs.

"Coming," I replied, rocking back and forth on the sofa before finally gaining enough momentum to push myself up. I felt like an eighty-year-old woman as I wobbled to the staircase.

"Hun?" Dylan called again.

"I'm coming, hold your horses," I called back, puzzled. Dylan had barely let me go upstairs for the past week. My fat behind was not made for stairs as I waddled up them, one hand on the rail, the other supporting my enormous belly.

We'd been sleeping in the downstairs guest room partly because I was too exhausted to climb the stairs multiple times a day. But mostly because upstairs sounded like a demolition was going on. Between Dylan and Charles when he wasn't busy with Pack business, they'd been hammering and drilling for days.

By the time I reached the top floor, I grip the bannister panting like a heffer as I try to catch my breath. I was huge. With less than a month until my due date, carrying twins meant I resembled more of a beach ball with my short height and round belly. My ankles ached from swelling, and carting this extra weight was a mammoth task.

I could smell paint, smell fresh plaster. Dylan appeared behind me suddenly, his hands covering my eyes.

"No peeking," he whispered, guiding me forward.

"I know it's ours by the faint scent of us in it," I said as he directed me through what had to be our bedroom. He kept turning me around, making me nauseous. "The room was square. How many times do you want to turn me, am I about bash a pinata?"

He moves his hand before kissing my neck. "Surprise."

I blinked, adjusting to the light. Our bedroom looked different. The bed had been moved under the window, and the TV was now on the wall where the headboard used to be. But what caught my attention was a door that hadn't been there before. A hole had been cut out where the TV originally was. I knew on the other side of the wall used to be the room I stayed in when I first came here.

I twist the handle and push the door open to reveal the nursery. The room was a soft grey colour and white cribs and a nursing chair sat under the window. Charles made the cribs himself and on top of the little headboard had a cut off a wolf up the top. His craftsmanship came naturally—his grandfather on his mother's side was a carpenter.

Above each crib hung a mobile with little wolves and moons. The wolves the color of each of ours, though mine resembled Melissa before she gave her life for mine. On the wall above each crib were their names painted in perfect calligraphy.

We had struggled with our son's name. Charles wanted to honour the moon goddess. We knew our daughter's middle name was always going to be Diana. Rebecca Diana Murphy-Howard. We named her after Rebecca because the curse started with her so it seemed fitting the curse ended in her name. She too sacrificed the most for her people.

Charles didn't care what we named them as long as Diana was our daughter's middle name. I was a little shocked to see our son's name was after Charles's bloodline. Aaron was Charles's grandfather's name and the only man in his family he spoke fondly of. Aaron Mathers was his mother's father, and his name made werewolf history books for the good he did.

"Does he know?" I asked Dylan, who had moved to stand behind me.

"He will when he gets home," Dylan replied, wrapping his arms around me.

"No middle name?" I asked, noticing the empty space after Aaron's name.

Dylan shrugged. "Couldn't think of one. Figured I would leave it to Charles." He pressed a kiss to my cheek, pressing his face into my neck.

I nodded in understanding. "I have a suggestion if Charles says it's okay."

"You like it?" Dylan asked, gesturing to the room.

"Love it," I whispered, feeling emotional at their thoughtfulness.

My phone rang from downstairs, and I groaned, knowing I would have to walk all the way down to get it.

"You stay, I will get it for you," Dylan offered, leaving the room.

I continued examining the room, turning the mobile. I picked up the wolf that resembled Melissa, noticing it even had our gold eyes. The wolf was so detailed you could even see the ruffles of her fur.

As I placed it back, Dylan returned with my phone. "It's Samuel."

I took the phone. "Hey."

"Can you come over? I need you to try to talk to someone for me," Samuel's voice sounded strained.

"Who?" I asked, already suspecting.

"I found a rogue and she is my mate," he admitted.

A wave of relief washed over me. "I believe you," I said softly. "I will come as soon as I can."

"She won't shift or talk to me. She is petrified of me," Samuel explained, his voice edged with frustration. "It's exactly like with Ruby."

My heart ached for him. "Samuel—"

"I can't lose her, not after Ruby," he pleaded. "If the Moon Goddess miraculously gave me another chance—"

"I will get Dylan to run me over now and I will see you soon," I promised, ending the call.

Dylan had been listening and was watching me curiously. "Did he just say he found a second chance mate?"

"Yes, he found her," I confirmed, unable to hide my relief.

Dylan's eyes narrowed. "And you don't seem shocked, you knew." His voice hardened. "What did you do, Maggie?"

I sighed, knowing this moment would come eventually. "I asked the Moon Goddess to grant him one."

"And at what cost, Maggie?" Dylan's voice rose slightly. "Everything comes at a cost with her."

I met his gaze steadily. "Either way it would end this way. Samuel would have forced my hand so I asked to give him a chance." I paused. "I told you about my vision of his future."

"I will not stand by knowing I could have helped," I added firmly.

Dylan's expression darkened. "And what is that? The cost?"

"His life, Dylan," I admitted quietly. "She can't fix him. They can't fix each other." I looked away. "I lose my brother."

Dylan's eyes widened with horror. "So you get Charles or I to kill your brother, Maggie?" He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"The deal was if he needs to die, I kill him myself," I clarified, my voice steady despite the pain those words caused me. "My brother, my favour, my hands and my sacrifice and responsibility."

Dylan stared at me in disbelief. "And you think you could do it, kill your own brother? You can't do that."

"I can do it," I said firmly, meeting his gaze. "There are a lot of things I will do for my people, Dylan, don't underestimate the things I would do."

I placed my hand on my swollen belly. "I am willing to die for my people." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I would kill for them too if needed."

Dylan's face paled, and I reached for his hand.

"Hopefully it won't come to that," I added softly, "but I am prepared if it does."