Battle of Love

Chapter 6

Raymond’s POV

She left.

And I let her.

The sound of the door closing behind her felt like a coffin lid slamming shut. The silence afterward was unbearable. The air in the house felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore. Nothing did.

I stood in the living room, frozen, hands clenched at my sides, her voice still echoing in my head.

“I didn’t lie because I wanted to—I lied because I loved you.”

God, I wanted to believe that.

But how do you believe someone when your entire reality just cracked in half? When the woman you were about to propose to literally turned into something else in your mother’s hallway?

How do you take love and trust and family and wrap it around the fact that she has fangs, claws, and a legacy soaked in blood and moonlight?

My mother was still seated, pale, her hands shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. She hadn’t said a word since Amber walked out.

Neither had I.

We weren’t just grieving trust. We were grieving normal. Safety. The illusion that the world made sense.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. To demand answers from the sky itself.

But instead, I whispered, “She’s pregnant.”

And that broke something in me I didn’t even know was whole until now.

I was going to be a father.

To a child that might be part wolf.

Part something ancient. Sacred. Dangerous.

Part… Amber.

God help me, even now, even after all this—I still love her.

And that’s the worst part.

Because I don’t know what to do with that love. I don’t know where to put it. It doesn’t fit inside me anymore—not when it’s tangled up in fear, betrayal, awe, and pain.

She should have told me.

She should have trusted me.

But maybe… she didn’t because she’s never been given the chance to be seen as anything but a threat.

My mother finally stood, her voice brittle. “You’re not going to see her again… right?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know.

Because even now, I could still see the fear in Amber’s eyes—not fear of me, but fear for me. She was scared of what her truth would do. Not just to our future—but to me. To my mother. To the fragile life she’d tried so hard to build in secret.

And when she placed her hand over her stomach…

That broke me all over again.

Because I wasn’t just grieving the life we had—I was grieving the life we were supposed to make together. Our child. Our family.

I walked out of the house without a word, leaving my mother behind in stunned silence. I needed air. I needed space.

And most of all, I needed to stop pretending that I could erase her from me.

Because I couldn’t.

Because even now, even after the fur and the claws and the shock—

She’s still mine.

And I have to ask myself the hardest question I’ve ever faced:

Can I love someone I no longer understand?

The world she belongs to is wild, ancient, violent—and sacred.

And now, because of one moment, one transformation, one truth revealed in a hallway—

It’s my world too.

And somewhere out there, she’s walking through it alone… carrying my child.

I don’t know if I’ll forgive her.

But I do know this:

I’m not done loving her.

And if there’s still a way to build something from the ashes—

I have to try.

Even if it scares me.

Even if it breaks everything I thought I knew.

Because not trying would be the one regret I could never live with.

That’s when I saw them.

A young couple stood in the yard across the street, laughing as their little boy ran clumsily between them. The dad chased him, pretending to be a monster. The mom scooped him up and spun him around until the boy’s laughter burst into the air.

I froze.

I couldn’t stop staring.

And then… I smiled.

For a moment, I saw Amber and me like that—our own little family, living a simple, ordinary life. It felt warm. Safe.

The thought hit me like a punch.

Amber is a werewolf.

A werewolf.

Why am I imagining a future with her when I know what she is?

But then another voice whispered, softer.

Because you love her.

My chest tightened. My heart pounded. My thoughts collided like a storm, and I could tell which side was winning.

That’s when someone stepped in front of me—close. Too close.

His eyes locked on mine. Cold. Unblinking.

He spoke.

His voice was low, quick—almost like a warning. The words blurred in my ears, my body already coiled, ready to push back.

I opened my mouth to tell him to back off—

—and the world went dark.