Chapter 10
The first morning at the cottage started with a heavy fog that clung to the trees like a wet blanket. I was in the small kitchen, trying to make breakfast before the children woke up when a soft knock at the door made me freeze.
It was barely seven in the morning.
I opened the door to find Nate standing on the porch. He wasn’t wearing his Alpha suit or his formal leather jacket. He was in a simple grey sweatshirt and jeans, looking younger and less like a king. In his arms, he held three small bundles wrapped in brown paper.
“I told you I’d bring something,” he said. His voice was low, careful not to wake the children.
“Nate, it’s early,” I whispered, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind me. I didn’t want him inside. Not yet.
“I couldn’t sleep. I spent the night in the woodshop.” He held out the first bundle. “They’re old-fashioned. My father taught me how to make them when I was small p>
I took the package and opened it. Inside was a hand-carved wooden wolf, polished to a high shine.
It was beautiful, detailed down to the individual fur lines. I felt a sharp pang in my chest. Nate had always been good with his hands; he used to carve little trinkets for me when we were teenagers hiding in the laundry room.
“Mommy?” a small voice chirped from behind me.
The door creaked open, and Ariana peeked out, her hair was a messy cloud of curls. Her eyes lit up when she saw the wooden toys. “For me p>
Nate’s face transformed. The hard lines of his mouth softened into a genuine smile. “This one is for you, Ariana. And these are for your brothers p>
Ariana ran forward, taking the wooden wolf from my hands. “It looks like the big dog from my dreams p>
Nate’s eyes snapped to mine, a question burning in them. Dreams? I looked away. Shifter children often dreamt of their wolves long before their first shift. It was a sign their spirits were strong.
“Thank you, Mr. Neighbor!” Ariana hugged the wooden toy to her chest.
Aidan and Axel appeared in the doorway then. Axel looked curious, but Aidan’s eyes were narrow and suspicious, always. He looked at the gift in Ariana’s hand and then at the bundles Nate was still holding.
“We have toys,” Aidan said coldly.
“Not like these,” Nate said, stepping closer. He knelt on the porch, offering a carved eagle to Axel and a larger, more powerful-looking wolf to Aidan. “They’re made from the oak trees of this forest. They’re meant to protect the house p>
Axel took the eagle, his fingers tracing the wings. “It’s aerodynamically correct,” he muttered, sounding more like a scientist than a child.
But Aidan didn’t reach for his. He stared at Nate’s hand, then at his face. “Why are you always here? Don’t you have a pack to lead p>
“Aidan, be polite,” I warned, though I secretly felt a sense of pride at my son’s backbone.
“It’s okay,” Nate said, steadying his voice despite the rejection. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. The woods can be tricky p>
The “sweet” moment was shattered by a sudden, high-pitched scream from inside the cottage. It wasn’t a playful scream. It was a sound of pure, agonizing pain.
“Axel!” I yelled, spinning around.
We ran inside to find Axel collapsed on the living room rug. He had dropped the wooden eagle, and his small body was shaking. His skin was turning a terrifying shade of grey, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
“Axel! Baby, talk to me!” I knelt beside him, my hands flying over his pulse points. His heart was racing too fast for a human, even too fast for a wolf.
Nate was beside me in a second. He didn’t ask permission; he scooped Axel up and laid him on the sofa. “He’s cold. Dahlia, his internal temperature is dropping p>
“It’s a seizure,” I said, my mind racing through every medical possibility. “But his eyes… Nate, look at his eyes p>
Axel’s eyes flew open. They weren’t pale blue anymore. They were glowing a violent, electric blue; the exact shade of Nate’s Alpha glow. But there was something else. Thin, black veins were creeping up from his neck toward his jawline.
“That’s not a shift,” Nate whispered, his face was pale with horror. “That’s the oxidation. The same thing Elder Thomas has p>
My heart stopped. “How? He hasn’t been in the pack house. He hasn’t eaten their food p>
“Food?” Nate asked.
I looked down at the wooden eagle Axel had been holding. The wood where he had touched it was turning black. I grabbed the toy and sniffed it. My eyes widened. “The wood… Nate, where did you get this oak p>
“From the grove near the western spring,” Nate said, his voice shaking.
“The spring,” I whispered. “The water! I think that very land is being poisoned p>
Axel let out another pained cry, and his small claws began to peek out from his fingernails. He was trying to shift to survive the poison, but he was too young. The shift would kill him.
“I need my kit!” I yelled. “Nate, hold him down! Don’t let him shift p>
Nate pinned Axel’s small arms to the sofa, his own Alpha aura flaring to life. He began to hum—a low, resonant frequency that Alphas use to calm their pups. It was a primal, beautiful sound.
“I’ve got you, son,” Nate whispered, tears finally breaking and rolling down his cheeks. “I’ve got you. Fight it. Don’t go p>
I injected Axel with a high dose of the suppressant, my hands shaking. For a terrifying minute, nothing happened. The black veins continued to crawl up his face.
Then, slowly, the glow in his eyes faded. The claws retracted. His breathing slowed, and the grey tint left his skin. He went limp in Nate’s arms, falling into a deep, exhausted sleep.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Nate didn’t move. He stayed with Axel, as his large hands cradled the boy’s head. He looked up at me, and for the first time, there was no doubt in his eyes. There was only a cold, murderous fury.
“He tried to shift, Dahlia,” Nate said in a deadly growl. “A human child cannot shift. A human child doesn’t have an Alpha’s eyes p>
He stood up, towering over me in the small living room. The “neighbor” was gone. The Alpha was back, and he had just seen his son almost die from the rot of his own land.
“No more lies,” Nate hissed. “Maybe the water is poisoned, my pack is dying, and my son almost died in my arms. You are going to tell me everything. Now p>