Chapter 7

LILA

The Blackwood estate never truly slept.

Even in the early morning, when the mist still clung to the ground and the sky hovered between night and day, the mansion breathed with the soft movements of guards changing shifts and servants lighting lanterns.

I hadn’t slept at all.

I sat on the balcony of the guest wing, arms wrapped around my knees, a blanket draped over my shoulders, trying to feel something that resembled calm. But all I felt was the air.

Then I heard boots on gravel and voices just below. I crept to the railing and looked down.

Tyler stood near the eastern path of the estate, shoulders tense, speaking to two of his border scouts. Their heads were lowered in respect, but their tone was urgent. One of them handed him something: a thin strip of bark.

Tyler held it up to the light.

My breath caught when I saw it: a blood-red symbol etched into the bark’s surface.

It looked like a jagged eye enclosed by broken claws. I didn’t recognize the mark immediately, but something in my bones knew what it was: danger. Old magic used as a curse. A threat.

I strained to hear.

“...Red Hand. No doubt,” the scout was saying. “We found it near the western perimeter. Just below the cliff ridge.”

“Has anyone seen movement?” Tyler asked, his voice low but sharp.

“Nothing yet. But it wasn’t fresh. It was left there to be found. A message.”

Tyler’s fingers curled around the bark. “They’re not just posturing. They’re watching us.”

“Should we alert the council?”

“Not yet,” Tyler said. “Not until we know who let them in.”

Let them in. My stomach twisted.

He suspects someone inside the Pack. And he’s right to. Because this didn’t feel like the kind of threat that came from beyond the gates. This was the kind that started from within.

I leaned back against the stone railing and closed my eyes, but all I could see was that symbol burning behind my eyelids.

The call came just as the sun broke over the hills.

I was still curled on the balcony chaise, eyes heavy with exhaustion but too wired to sleep, when my phone rang. I grabbed it like a lifeline, heart already racing.

Central City Hospital.

My thumb trembled as I accepted the call.

“This is Lila Green.”

“Mrs. Green,” the nurse said, breathless. “Your son... Gavin... he woke up. Briefly.”

Everything stopped.

“What?” I gasped, shooting upright.

“He opened his eyes. He said your name. Just once. ‘Mommy.’ Then he slipped back under. But... he’s responding.”

My hand flew to my mouth. The tears came so fast I didn’t even realize I was crying until one splashed against my palm.

“I’m on my way,” I whispered. “Tell him I’m coming.”

I didn’t even change. I didn’t even think. I grabbed my shoes, threw the blanket to the side, and bolted out the door like the world was ending.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of honking cars, red lights I barely remembered stopping for, and my fingers shaking around the seatbelt. I kept whispering his name under my breath like it was a prayer.

Gavin. Gavin. Please stay awake. Stay with me.

When I reached his room, the air inside was still humming with tension, but lighter somehow. Like the moment right after a thunderstorm when the rain has stopped but the scent of it still lingers.

He was still asleep. But something was different.

The colour in his cheeks had returned, just faintly. His fingers twitched under the blanket. The monitor’s rhythm had steadied.

I sat beside him, brushing a curl from his forehead.

“Hey baby,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I heard you called for me. I’m here. I’m right here.”

He didn’t respond. I pressed my hand over his heart and closed my eyes. This time, when I reached inward with my gift, the wall wasn’t solid.

It was cracked.

Warmth pulsed beneath my palm

It’s working, I thought.

~

Gavin was still sleeping, but there was warmth in his skin now. His breathing was less labored, his energy beginning to hum, faint, but steady. Like a candle refusing to go out.

I didn’t want to leave his side.

But when the call came from the Blackwood Council, I had no choice. They demanded an update, wanted assurance that I understood the political implications of what was unfolding. Typical.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” I whispered to Gavin, brushing his cheek. “I’ll be right outside, baby.”

The nurse on duty gave me a tight smile. “I’ll keep a close watch. I promise.”

I stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to my ear, pacing near the window as I fielded the council’s relentless questions.

Yes, I was staying at Blackwood estate.

Yes, I understood the terms.

No, the mating bond had not been sealed yet.

No, I would not rush it just because they were panicking about succession.

And then I heard it.

A sudden burst of noise: an alarm.

Code Blue. ICU.

My heart dropped.

I dropped the phone. Ran.

I burst through the ICU doors, my lungs burning. The machines were screaming. Beeps spiked into chaos. Nurses surrounded Gavin’s bed, one already checking his IV, the other calling out vitals.

“What happened?!” I shouted.

One nurse looked up, pale. “Someone... someone tampered with his line. The drip was swapped.”

“What?!”

The nurse’s voice cracked. “There was a compound mixed in, it is foreign, not part of his treatment. We wouldn’t have caught it if his vitals hadn’t spiked. Whoever did this knew exactly how to make it look like a failure of his condition.”

My knees buckled, and I caught the wall to keep from collapsing.

“Where’s the person who did it? Where are they?!”

“We don’t know,” she said, trembling. “By the time the alarms triggered and staff responded, they were gone.”

Gone.

Someone had been here, right here. While I was just down the hall.

And they had tried to kill my son.

I moved to his side as the nurses adjusted the machines. My hands shook as I touched his forehead.

He was still alive.

Someone wanted him dead.

And I had no doubt they’d try again.

I looked over my shoulder, pulse roaring in my ears.

I stood frozen in the corner of the room, arms wrapped tightly around myself, watching as they adjusted Gavin’s lines, checked his vitals again, and called in a specialist.

But I barely heard any of it.

All I could hear was my pulse, pounding like war drums.

I was shaking.

Someone had tried to kill my son. Not five feet from where I’d left him.

And I hadn’t been there to stop it.

I wanted to scream.

I was still clutching the railing of his hospital bed when the door opened behind me, and I turned, expecting another nurse or maybe a doctor.

But it was Tyler.

His eyes swept the room immediately, taking in the chaos, the urgency, the smell of fear still clinging to the air.

“What happened?” he demanded.

The nurse explained, her voice low and quick, ending with, “We’ve already pulled the security footage; someone disguised in scrubs swapped Gavin’s IV drip, but they had no ID, and they were gone before anyone could stop them.”

Tyler’s face darkened. “This was planned.”

“No shit,” I snapped, unable to hold back. “I leave for three minutes and someone tries to kill my child.”

“I’ll find out who did this,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll put guards outside this room. From now on, no one gets in without passing through me.”

Before I could respond, the door burst open again.

And this time… it was Jackson.

He looked like a storm. His dark jacket unzipped, jaw tight, eyes flickering with raw panic as they locked on Gavin then on me.

And then, finally… on Tyler.

The temperature in the room dropped instantly.

Jackson took one long step forward. “What the hell is going on?”

“Lower your voice,” Tyler said, stepping forward.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jackson snapped, stepping in front of me like a wall. “You were supposed to protect them. That was the whole damn point of this deal.”

Tyler’s tone dropped an octave. “I am protecting them. Someone tried to get through me, and they’ll regret it.”

“You’re already too late,” Jackson spat. “You let someone into this hospital. You failed. Again.”

“Don’t push me, Greg,” Tyler growled. “This is my Pack. My territory. And you’ve got no place here.”

“I’ve got more place than you think,” Jackson hissed. “Because while you were busy giving speeches and flexing your Alpha ego, I was raising that boy. Holding his hand, putting him to sleep, teaching him how to fight nightmares.”

Tyler’s fists clenched. “And now he’s in one.”

“Because of your enemies.”

“Because of your lack of rank,” Tyler snapped. “Because you couldn’t protect what was never yours.”

The words hit like a whip crack.

I stepped between them before either of them could take another breath.

“Enough!” I shouted. “Both of you.”

They froze, chests heaving. But their eyes never left each other.

“You want to tear each other apart, do it outside. But not here. Not in front of my son.”

I turned to Jackson, my voice lower. “Thank you for coming. But I’m safe. And Gavin’s safe. Go home, please.”

His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue. Then he exhaled hard and stepped closer, brushing my shoulder with his hand.

“Be careful,” he murmured. “You’re not safe here. Someone in his Pack wants that boy dead and they won’t stop until they finish what they started.”

And with one last look at Tyler, he turned and walked out the door.

The drive back to the Blackwood estate was silent.

Tyler didn’t say a word abd neither did I.

The only sound was the hum of the engine and the quiet ache in my chest, pressing tighter with every passing mile. I kept my eyes out the window, watching trees flicker past like ghosts. The sky was dark now, starless. And the moon was full. Of course it was; watching and judging.

Reminding me that this wasn’t over. That fate was still waiting for me to finish what I started.

By the time we pulled into the estate, my body felt like lead. I didn’t go to the guest wing. I didn’t ask for food or tea or updates from the patrols.

I walked straight to the balcony.

The night air was cold, laced with pine and smoke. I stood barefoot against the cool stone and looked out over the sprawling woods below, silver and shadowed in moonlight.

Somewhere down there, someone had carved a death mark into a tree.

Somewhere in this house, a traitor was watching us.

And somewhere in a hospital bed, my little boy was clinging to life by threads of fate I didn’t fully understand.

I turned my gaze up to the moon.

I hated it. Hated how it made everything feel destined, like I was just a character in someone else’s prophecy. I wanted to scream, to ask it why fate demanded so much of me.

Why I had to give up one love to save another.

Why I had to walk back into a world that left me bleeding.

And still… I couldn’t walk away because Gavin needed me. Because love didn’t matter if he didn’t survive to feel it.

I reached up slowly, fingers brushing the base of my neck. It was still bare, unmarked, but not for long. Not if this bond was the only thing standing between my son and death.

And for the first time, I whispered the question I had been too afraid to ask myself: What if I lose myself saving him?

The wind didn’t answer. The moon didn’t blink. And I stayed there; alone and cold, beneath a sky that refused to care.