Chapter 471: Cry
Chapter 471: Daphne
Well, this is a bloody show. Literally.
I heard Elara scream and came out immediately, only to find the main character reenacting a scene from a horror movie with her claws at the pregnant woman. She was literally trying to kill her—slashing everywhere, blood dripping on her face, her hair, the floor. A human certainly would not have survived.
And the weirdest thing happened. When the main character screamed "Don’t touch me!" the wolves trying to pull her off literally could not.
As if their bodies could not listen to them.
I have always thought this whole Alpha Luna thing was, well, just a thing. I did not think it actually had this kind of authority—of stripping away people’s autonomy. It was strange to see.
I had to step in and push her off before she literally killed the lady.
I look at the pregnant Clarissa being carried away. She might as well have been killed—her face, arms, back all have these claw marks on them. They are healing fast, but it looks very dangerous. She won’t die, I hope.
"I said leave," I say again to the bloody woman in front of me.
She looks at me with murderous eyes.
It does not scare me.
She takes a step toward me. Her claws are still extended. Her face is splattered with blood. She looks like something out of a nightmare.
"Do you want to have a go, wolf?" I say, taking a step toward her.
She stops.
Her eyes are wild. Her chest is heaving. Her claws are still dripping.
"You," she says.
"Me," I say.
"You did this."
"Leave," I say again. Serious this time. "Before I make you leave."
She stares at me.
I stare back.
She turns. She walks out.
Elara exhales, loses the strength in her feet, and I steady her.
"Okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, I just hate it when a bloodline command happens. It leaves me feeling woozy," she says.
"I am sorry," I say.
"What are you sorry for?" She taps my shoulder. "I just hope Clarissa is okay."
***
Rylan
I cannot even look at Clarissa like this. I just stand around, tears in my eyes, looking at the marks on her skin. I think about her words.
"Aren’t I pretty?"
"Do you know what expensive moisturizers I use?"
Clarissa loves nothing more than what she looks like. And now this.
"There is no place not injured apart from her stomach," the Redmoon physician says.
"She needs to shift to heal, or else it will scar," I say.
Clarissa cannot have scars on her face. She would never forgive herself. She would never forgive me.
"The scars should be the least of your worries, little Alpha," an old woman I recognize as the healer from Shadowfang says. "Left like this, she might die."
I feel the air leave my lungs.
"Die?" I ask in a small voice.
The two healers exchange a glance. I do not like that glance.
"She needs to have the pup right now," the Shadowfang healer says. "It is the only way to save them both."
"What?" I look at the Redmoon healer. "But she is not due for another month. Is it safe?"
They both look at me.
I shut up.
I have no power here. I have no say. I am just a frightened Alpha watching the mother of his child fight for her life.
They get to work.
The room becomes a flurry of movement. Herbs are crushed. Water is boiled. The healers speak in low, urgent tones. Clarissa is barely conscious, her body struggling to heal itself while the healers try to force the birth.
I stand in the corner.
I cannot move.
I cannot speak.
I can only watch.
Clarissa screams. It is a raw, animal sound that tears through the room. I flinch. I take a step forward. The Redmoon healer holds up a hand.
"Stay back," she says.
I stay.
She screams again. Her body arches. The healers move faster.
I feel like I am going to be sick.
The pup is not coming. Something is wrong. The healers exchange more glances. The Shadowfang healer shakes her head.
"We need to cut," she says.
"What?" I ask.
"Now."
I do not understand what is happening. I only see the glint of a blade. I only hear Clarissa’s screams.
And then—
A small whimper.
A tiny, fragile sound that cuts through the chaos.
I look up.
The Redmoon healer is holding something in her hands. It is small. It is dark. It is moving.
"He must have changed earlier," she says. "Instinctively switching to wolf form."
I blink.
He?
It is a boy.
The healer walks toward me and places the tiny, wet thing in my palms.
I look at the small pup in my hands. He is tiny, with dark wet fur and closed eyes, his tiny chest rising and falling with each small breath. A soft whimper escapes him. He is breathing. He is alive.
I stand there, scared to move. There is movement all around me in the room, but I do not see any of it. I see only him.
Suddenly, I am overwhelmed. By the warmth of him. By the weight of him. By this small, fragile life in my arms.
My son.
I have a son.
I cannot breathe.
Then Clarissa screams again, and I look up.
"Come on, girl. Shift," the healer urges. "You did a good job. It is time to heal now."
Her form changes...painfully and slowly from human to wolf. A bright brown wolf lies on the bed, her sides heaving, her eyes closed.
They wipe the pup and place him next to Clarissa. He shifts deeper, curling closer underneath her until he is barely visible, hidden in the warmth of his mother’s fur.
I stand there, watching them.
They eventually leave the room with their equipment, the dirty clothes, the bloody bedsheets—everything. The door clicks shut behind them.
I am alone with them.
I walk toward the bed.
Clarissa’s breathing evens out. The pup’s tiny whimpering stops. They are both asleep, exhausted, alive.
I sink onto the chair beside the bed.
I press my hands to my face.
I cry.