7

Everything blurs. Caden takes the kids upstairs with the nannies. Ben, Matt, Fiona, and I head to the hospital.

I’m a mess—tears, snot, shaking.

Vincent and Caron are waiting. They pull us into a private room.

“I have a plan,” Vincent whispers, pulling a small vial from his pocket. Caron squeezes my hand as she guides me to a chair.

“But we all have to work together. And you… need to put on a show.”

I frown. “No. I can’t save him.”

I rest my head on Caron’s shoulder, tears falling freely.

Vincent kneels in front of me, brushing my wet hair away from my face. “We can save him.”

My pulse spikes. I want to believe him.

“When we couldn’t track the killer, we suspected magic. We prepared the strongest antidotes just in case. I know what they used—and I have the cure. But no one else can know.”

Layla surges to the front of my mind. “What does that mean?”

Vincent holds up the vial. “It means we have to let the killer think he won. We want you to try saving Drake publicly. Fail. Fall apart. Move him to your room. Then we give him the antidote in secret.”

He smiles. “Let them believe he’s cursed. Sleeping Beauty. Give us time to plan. Time to trap this bastard.”

Hope bursts in my chest, raw and overwhelming. I catch my breath—then sob.

But this time, they’re tears of joy.

I launch forward and pull Vincent into a tight hug, burying my face in his shoulder as the tears come freely. He chuckles softly, returning the hug as the others begin to cheer around us.

“Alright, alright—shush!” he scolds, pulling back and wagging a finger at all of us. “They still think he’s dead. We need to act like it.”

“Can we do it now, please?” I ask, breathless. “I need to hear his voice.”

“The sooner the better,” he agrees. “We don’t want that kind of magic in his system for too long.”

At his words, I bolt from the room, rushing down the hallway. I need to see Drake’s face—now.

But as I near the hospital doors, everyone—nurses, doctors, even the janitors—turn away, unable to meet my eyes. Their expressions are tight, mournful. If I didn’t know what Vincent just told me, I would’ve collapsed right there on the floor.

“Maybe we need to fall apart a little,” Layla whispers gently in my mind. I sniffle, wiping at my tears. One doctor, standing by the door, meets my gaze. She’s the only one with the courage.

“What is it?” My voice is rough and broken. She gestures to a nearby bench.

“Maybe we should sit down for this.”

“No,” I snap, shaking my head. “Just spit it out. I hate this drawn-out crap. Is my husband alive or not?”

She flinches slightly at my tone. I already know the truth, but the ache in my chest is too real to fake patience.

“Honestly, Luna,” she says softly, “we don’t know what’s wrong with him… and we don’t know how to fix it.”

I push past her and burst into the room.

The moment I see him, my breath catches.

Drake looks… dead.

His skin is pale, his lips slightly blue, and his eyes are sunken. The steady beep of the monitor barely registers. He lies there like a broken doll—cold, stiff, fragile.

Dark magic coats the room like rot. I snarl, sniffing the air. “Dark magic,” I growl. The doctor nods solemnly.

I approach and gently touch his cheek. He’s ice cold.

My knees buckle. Tears sting my eyes as I climb into the bed beside him, curling my body against his. With trembling hands, I reach into myself and summon my power, letting it seep into him in search of the darkness clinging to his soul.

It doesn’t take long.

I find it—coiled, alive, a hungry thing latched onto his spirit. The moment I try to pull it out, it resists like a serpent snapping its fangs. The darkness rebounds violently, snapping back to him with every tug, wrapping itself tighter like barbed wire.

I realize, with sickening clarity, that it’s feeding off him. Drawing strength from his blood. His life. He’s not just poisoned—he’s being consumed.

Desperation claws at me. I try again. And again.

But it won’t let go.

A sob breaks free as I collapse into him, helpless and shaking.

“I can’t save him!” I scream, punching the bed. My fists pound against his chest as I sob, my voice raw and broken. “Come back, please! Come back to me!”

Around us, the room falls to pieces.

I open my emotions wide, letting the pack feel everything I feel. They need to believe this is real—and heavens, it feels real. Agony, grief, guilt—I drown in it, and so do they.

All around the hospital, I hear it: the pack howling. One by one, the cries rise into the air, filled with anguish. The sound is haunting… but it’s exactly what we need.

I shut them out. I can’t let them feel the flicker of hope inside me.

My tears run dry. My voice goes silent. And I simply lay there—lifeless, numb. I cling to Drake’s body, my soul emptied.

Baylee and Caden appear in the doorway. My heart lurches, but I don’t have the strength to speak.

Then I hear it.

Emma’s voice.

“Holy crap. It’s true? He’s dead?”

Baylee crumbles, her little face breaking into sobs as she falls to her knees. Caden gasps and stares in shock.

And that’s when it hits me—this is the vision. The one they saw. The heartbreak, the moment. This is it. They really believe he’s gone.

“Luna, I need you to move,” the doctor says gently. “I need to put in a drip.”

Her words jolt the kids. Their eyes fly to mine. I reach out and grasp their small hands, pulling them close, and pass Vincent’s message through the bond.

Their eyes widen.

Then the tears return—but this time, they’re different. They cry, but the grief has changed into quiet, shaking relief.

“No,” I tell the doctor, pulling away and sitting upright.

“I want him moved upstairs. If I have to say goodbye… it’ll be in our home, not in this sterile bed.”

She frowns, hesitating. “I’m sorry, Luna, but that’s not possible. He’s too weak.”

I snarl, letting my aura explode outward. “I said MOVE HIM!”

She swallows, clearly intimidated. She’s not our usual doctor—and I’ve never liked her. Too many questions. Too nosy for her own good.

Before she can protest further, the boys appear, wheeling in a gurney. I slide off the bed to give them room.

“Obviously I can’t stop you,” the doctor mutters. “But this is a terrible idea. He’s too delicate to be moved.”

Fiona steps in, her voice like a blade. “Do you enjoy your job? Your place in this pack?”

The doctor stiffens. “O-of course I do, Beta. But what does that have to do with—?”

“It has everything to do with it,” Fiona snaps. “Step the fuck back and follow your orders, or you’ll be out of a job and a pack. Now get your shit and come upstairs.”

She steps aside, and the boys wheel Drake out of the room. Fiona grabs my hand and pulls me close, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“Did I do okay?” I link her quietly.

She nods, just a little. “You were perfect.”

We step into the hallway.

It’s packed—people from every corner of the pack have gathered. Some I know. Some I’ve never seen before. All of them here for him.

Their faces are full of grief. Full of love. It crushes me.

And it fills me with guilt.

“You did amazing,” Fiona links again. “Look at this crowd. If I wasn’t pretending to be sad, I’d hand you a Grammy.”

Layla snorts, and I bite back a smile.

But inside, I glow—because hope is alive. Drake is alive.

And we’re going to save him. No matter what it takes.