Chapter 96: Wolf

*~Hazel’s POV~*

I am a Crescent. And yet... I can’t even walk out of this damned room.

I’ve tried. Again and again. My body gets as far as the door, my foot raised to step beyond the threshold and then I stopped. Like my soul tugs backward, screaming that leaving would be... wrong. Like I’d be breaking some law I never agreed to.

I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how far Cyrius has gone with his twisted compulsionns. But I know he’s the one keeping me in here.

I gave up. Dropping onto the soft, strange bed with a heavy breath, I let the babies settle beside me. Their tiny bodies pressed into my sides like warm, breathing reminders that I wasn’t alone.

The little girl...my daughter—began playing with my hair, coiling it around her small, chubby fingers. I watched her with quiet awe.

"Heather," I whispered, saying it again just to taste it on my tongue.

It didn’t sound bad anymore. It sounded... right. Whole...It fit her.

I nodded slowly. "Heather," I repeated, and she looked up at me like she knew what I said, like the name stitched itself into her spirit. She giggled softly, sweet and curious.

Then I looked at her brother. His dark lashes fluttered, his lips soft with sleep. He looked too much like Cayden. And gods help me, a little like Cyrius too. But his energy... there was something calmer, something gentler in him. Just like Caspian.

"Christian," I murmured, poking his cheek.

He turned his head and saints above smiled.

"That’s your name," I said, heart swelling. "Christian."

The boy blinked slowly like he accepted it. As if he’d been waiting for me to say it out loud.

Heather squealed again, grabbing my hand. Christian followed, his tiny fingers curling around mine. I looked down at our intertwined hands..my skin against theirs. My babies.

For a long moment, I just sat there. Breathing. Feeling. Living. Something I thought I’d never get to do again.

And then..,The door creaked open.

Cyrius.

my joy dissolving into cold ash.He stepped inside slowly, eyes sweeping the scene like he owned it.

I didn’t reply.

still ghosting on Christian’s lips. "And look at that. The boy

I said without

it once.

hope," Cyrius continued, "you’re not

like a whip. "Caspian

but something in his

compel you never to raise your voice at me again.

and I didn’t

barely grazing the skin of my neck, trailing slowly across my collarbone. The heat between us surged—burning, wild. I

My body stiffened.

I wanted to strike him...

own me," I said,

He smirked. "Don’t I?"

whimpered beside me, sensing the tension.

that was when

No. No more fear.

around

what magic you twist. These babies are mine. Not yours. And if you ever touch me like

on his."...I will show you

he said his hands still

his touch. His fingers trailed from behind my ear, brushing gently down to the curve of my neck.

an eerie calm. "Hunted down a deer. Perhaps you can cook it for us, darling

your wife," I snapped. "And

brow, unbothered. "Then fine. Starve your babies to death. You need

limp carcass inside. The stench of blood hit before the sight did, and Heather—my precious

good guardian," I spat, venom in

cry over

in rhythm while Christian curled

"I’ll need a knife."

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