CHAPTER 8

Maisie

Keith's words stung me.

He had brought me here to live the rest of my life in misery. That was his plan. To punish me for leaving him. But still, he had not asked me why I left. I doubted if I told him the reason that he would listen.

I heard footsteps walk away from the door and I let out a breath I did not know I was holding in. If it was my misery Keith wanted by bringing me here, he was getting his wish already. I walked away from the door, but a knock on the door stopped me in my tracks.

I turned sharply and walked softly to the door, pressing my ear against it.

The knock came again and this time it sounded more urgent than before.

“Who is there?” I asked softly.

Then I heard Keith's voice from behind the door, “Maisie?”

I did not get why he was knocking. He has locked me in here. I was his prisoner and there was no way for me to leave.

“What?” my tone dripped with sarcasm, “worried I found a way to escape your prison?”

“For your own sake,” he growled, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm with which I spoke, “don't try anything stupid.”

“So I'm just supposed to rot away in your fancy little cottage prison?” The tone of my voice was bitter.

“There is enough for you to eat there,” he told me, “just stay put in there. I do not have to remind you what is at stake here.”

My son.

His threat lodged in my heart like a dagger. I fixed my voice and said to him, “I will not leave.”

“I will visit you tomorrow,” he told me.

I heard him leave and I found myself desperately trying to blink back tears. Lance crossed my mind, and I had to remind myself that I needed to stay strong. I could not fall apart when Lance was relying on me.

I traced my steps back to the room where I had left Lance. When I opened the door, I noticed he was huddled in a corner already asleep. I took a closer look at the room and it was a small library with several books that were caked in dust.

And while books usually held my interest, my son was my main concern. I carried him in my arms gently, careful not to wake him up. The door beside the library was a bedroom. I dropped Lance on the bed softly and kissed his forehead, whispering goodnight in his ear before trying to leave him to sleep.

But as I tried to walk away, his small hands tugged on mine, refusing to let go of me. I sat on the bed and watched him sleep peacefully until I fell asleep myself.

I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my window, hissing for me. The noise was familiar but I could not recognise it. I drew the curtains aside to look out the window. Cassian was outside my window, looking like a thief with the black shoal around his head.

I pushed the window openbut not without concern for my safety. After all, Cassian had almost killed me earlier.

“Cassian?” My voice was a whisper. I did not wish to wake Lance up.

“Here,” he shoved a pouch to me through the iron bars in the window.

“What is this?” I asked him, “Why are you here?”

“I know you must hate me…” he began.

“...hate you? You were going to kill me…”

“Maisie…” There was none of that harshness and coldness with which he addressed me at the restaurant and then at my house.

“...there are things that you cannot understand,” he said, “just lay low here for now, okay?”

“Lay low? I'm a fucking slave, Cassian,” my voice was loud, for a brief moment I had forgotten that my son was here with me.

“I know,” he whispered, “but I need you to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You must keep your son's identity a secret,” he said.

“My son? What do you mean?” I had not told him or Keith that Lance was Keith's son.

“I know he's Keith's son,” Cassian whispered, “the resemblance is too striking. You must hide him as much as you can here. People finding out about him will do no good. When it is time…”

“I do not care for the throne,” I told him, “if that is what you are implying. I am not interested in the power tussle within the pack.”

“You gave birth to the heir…”

“You should leave Cassian,” I said, done speaking to him, “you are of no help to me.”

He sighed, “I'm just trying to protect you.”

“You have not changed, Cassian,” I said, “you're still just following Keith about like a puppy.”

“You do not understand what is at stake…”

“And I have no wish to understand,” my voice carried my anger.

“Just promise me, Maisie,” he said softly, “that you will protect his identity.”

“He’s my son, Cassian,” I reminded him, “no one wants to protect him more than I do.”

“I noticed Lance is sick,” he changed the topic, “the pouch contains some medicine. I took just enough that it will not raise suspicion.”

I felt compelled to ask him why he was suddenly helping me, but he had already left my window.

I opened the pouch and saw two small bottles of medicine. I opened it and sniffed it.

Chrysanthemums extract.

A wide range of drugs was used to treat a wide range of illnesses among werewolves.

My attention was broken by Lance who stirred in his sleep and muttered for me. I returned to his side and stroked his hair so he could go back to sleep. But I saw his eyes flutter open in the dimly lit room.

“Mom?” he called out weakly.

“I’m here,” I said, holding his hand.

“Did he come to kill me? Why does he want me dead?”