The packhouse was blanketed in an uneasy quiet, the kind of silence that came before a storm. Rosalie rested in the nursery, her tiny form swaddled in soft blankets as she fought for every breath. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, but each breath seemed too shallow, too fragile, and it kept Bella glued to her side. She sat by the crib, her elbows propped on her knees and her hands clasped tightly together as though praying. But Bella hadn’t prayed in years.
She had lost count of how long she had been there, watching Rosalie. The weight of her exhaustion clung to her like a heavy cloak, but she refused to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Esmera, laughing as her baby grew weaker.
Kael’s footsteps echoed softly on the wooden floor as he entered the nursery. He carried a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of food, his face etched with worry. His usual commanding presence had dimmed, replaced by a man desperate to hold his family together. He set the tray down gently on the small table beside Bella, crouching to meet her eyes.
“You haven’t eaten,” he said, his voice low but firm.
“I’m fine,” Bella replied, her voice hollow. She didn’t even glance at the tray. Her eyes remained locked on Rosalie’s small form, her tiny hands peeking out from the blanket.
“You’re not,” Kael countered. He reached out, his hand settling on her shoulder. “Bella, you need to take care of yourself too. Rosalie needs you strong.”
“I can’t,” Bella whispered, her voice breaking. She finally looked at Kael, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t lose her, Kael. What if she doesn’t—”
“Don’t,” Kael interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. He moved closer, his other hand cupping her cheek and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t think like that. She’s a fighter, Bella. Just like her mother. She’s going to pull through this.”
Bella’s bottom lip quivered as she searched Kael’s eyes for reassurance. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort her—he believed it. She nodded weakly, finally reaching for the tea. The cup was warm in her hands, and the scent of chamomile and honey filled the air. She took a small sip, the liquid soothing her dry throat, but it did little to quell the ache in her chest.
“She’s so small,” Bella murmured, glancing back at Rosalie. Her fingers reached out to brush over her daughter’s tiny hand. “So fragile.”
Kael leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against Bella’s. “She’s stronger than she looks. Just like her mother,” he repeated, his voice full of conviction.
Downstairs, the packhouse was alive with subdued activity. Misery and Lira moved through the halls, ensuring everything ran smoothly while Kael split his time between Bella and his duties as Alpha. The warriors patrolled the borders, their senses sharp and their movements cautious. Though Esmera’s presence had been absent for days, no one dared to let their guard down.
Misery spotted Adam standing near the large bay window in the main hall. The Alpha of the Lunar Ash Pack was a commanding figure, even in stillness. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his piercing gaze was fixed on the forest beyond the borders. Something about Adam’s presence unnerved everyone, but it was impossible to deny his strength or the wisdom in his words.
Misery approached him slowly, clearing his throat. “I wanted to thank you,” he said carefully.
“For what?” Adam asked without turning.
“For helping Rosalie,” Misery clarified. “What you did—it means everything to this pack. To Bella and Kael.”
Adam didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained on the treeline, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t do it for thanks,” he said finally, his tone curt but not unkind.
Misery hesitated, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Have you… ever helped a hybrid child before?”
Adam’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering briefly toward Misery before returning to the window. “Not one that survived,” he said, his voice low and laced with something that sounded like regret.
The weight of his words settled over Misery, leaving him momentarily speechless. He glanced toward the nursery upstairs, his heart heavy. “But Rosalie… she’s different, isn’t she?”
Adam turned to face him fully, his sharp eyes locking onto Misery’s. “She’s stronger than I expected,” he said simply. “That will matter one day.”
Kael entered the main hall just as Adam strode past, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. Kael paused, watching the enigmatic Alpha disappear down the corridor before turning to Misery.
“What was that about?” Kael asked, his brow furrowed.
Misery shook his head, his expression thoughtful. “Just Adam being… Adam. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s never comforting.”
Kael sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The stress of the past few days was etched into his features, but his determination hadn’t wavered. “He’s right about one thing, though. Rosalie’s stronger than we give her credit for. She has to be.”
Misery nodded, clapping a hand on Kael’s shoulder. “And she has you and Bella. That’s more than enough.”
Back in the nursery, Bella set the empty tea cup down on the table and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes never left Rosalie, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Every small movement filled Bella with equal parts hope and dread.
Kael returned quietly, his hand brushing over her shoulder as he sat beside her. “How is she?”
Bella exhaled shakily. “Still breathing. Still fighting.”
Kael leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched his daughter. “She’s going to make it,” he said softly.
Bella glanced at him, her lips trembling. “You sound so sure.”
“I have to be,” Kael replied, his voice unwavering. “For her. And for you.”