Tears flooded my eyes, distorting the image before me. Whether he was a girl or a boy didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to cradle him, press him against my heart, whisper soft reassurances even though I couldn’t promise safety. But instead, I hung uselessly in the dark, unable to do a thing.
The warrior looked uncomfortable, unsure of how to proceed. He clutched the baby awkwardly, as if the small life in his arms was too much responsibility. My lips trembled. “Please… Please let me down. I just want to hold him.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes darting around as though he expected punishment for even considering it. “I’m sorry. I… I can’t. Alpha Rydan gave strict orders. You’re to remain where you are.”
“I’m begging you…” My sob was barely a breath.
He looked from me to the child, now whimpering softly, and finally gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. But I have to inform the Alpha first.”
Still unsure, he removed his coat and gently laid it over a patch of grass. He bent down and placed the infant carefully atop the fabric, arranging it to cushion him from the cold ground.
“I’ll come back,” he promised, already backing away. “I’ll explain everything.”
And with that, he vanished into the trees, disappearing into the night. My breaths came fast and shallow, panic clawing at my throat as I stared at my baby lying alone beneath the moonlight. His tiny cries pierced the air—each one carving into my soul.
Then I heard it. A faint rustle.
My stomach sank.
Every instinct screamed in alarm. The air grew heavier, colder. A presence stirred in the shadows.
Then she appeared.
Amara.
My heart crashed against my ribs as she stepped out of the dark, her lips curling into a smile both slow and malicious.
“Isn’t this tragic?” she mused, cocking her head as she looked up at me. “Dangling like a shattered puppet… forced to witness it all without being able to stop any of it.”
My voice shook. “Don’t touch him,” I warned, barely managing to speak.
She laughed softly, a mocking sound. “Oh, Marian…” she said, stepping closer. “You know I wouldn’t hurt a child. I’m not heartless.”
For a second, I let myself hope.
But the illusion shattered with a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the trees. My eyes snapped to the forest line as the underbrush shifted. Glowing eyes pierced the shadows—predators emerging one by one into the firelight.
Wild wolves. Starving. Bloodthirsty.
Terror gripped me. “No…”