Chapter 200
Freya
He grits his teeth and scrambles to get up, but I’m faster. Another incantation, another burst of power, and a shimmering wall of energy slams into place–he’s pinned, held down, his limbs frozen in place.
“Don’t try anything funny, fool,” I sneer, circling him like a hawk. “One more twitch and I’ll rip your essence apart and scatter it into the
wind.”
His eyes widen, and I can feel the flicker of fear behind the mask of aggression.
“Alpha Deckard will know you’ve been lurking around his Luna,” I snap, leaning closer. “Oh yes, I know. I’ve seen you in the shadows. Watching. Creeping. I’ve seen you–lurking beyond the manor walls, hiding behind trees like some cursed spirit.”
He exhales hard, clearly rattled. “Okay, okay… wait. Let’s not do anything irrational,” he pleads, his voice shaking slightly. “I have nowhere to stay–that’s why I’m here.”
I narrow my eyes, watching his every move, every breath. He’s nervous–but He’s hiding something.
As soon as I see him pretending to struggle upright–his hand subtly reaching for my leg–I don’t hesitate. With a flick of my wrist, I cast another spell, and he flips mid–air, slamming hard into the ground face–first.
He howls in pain, groaning as the impact rattles through him.
“I told you not to do anything funny, didn’t I?” I hiss, stepping over him with cold authority.
“You’re a damn witch! Fuck!” he spits out, trying to recover.
“Yes, I am,” I say, my eyes narrowing. “And now you’re going to tell me exactly who you are and what the hell you’re doing on this property. Because you’re definitely not the gardener.”
“I already told you… I’ve got nowhere else to stay,” he mutters, avoiding my gaze.
I crouch again, eyes locked on his face, reading every flicker of expression. “Something tells me that’s not the whole truth. And if you keep lying to me, I’ll kill you right here. I’m a witch, remember?”
A slow smile spreads across my lips, one that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Fine,” he exhales, the weight of my power pressing down on him. “I’ll tell you. My name is Dane.”
I blink.
“Dane?” My voice drips with contempt. “An alpha, a weak alpha?” I spit the words like venom.
His body jolts with rage. “I’m not weak!” he roars, lifting his head to glare at me. “And I am an alpha!”
I raise an eyebrow, amused by his outburst.
“Do you not know how far I can sense the strong ones?” I snarl, eyes flashing. “I smell strength. Living, pulsing, powerful energy- wherever it inhabits. And the weak?” I step closer, my voice a hiss. “They stink.”
I rake my eyes over him with disdain.
“And you stink,” I snap. “Now tell me what the hell your mission is here!”
“I have no mission!” he fires back, voice cracking with frustration. “But you can’t blame me for hanging around. My life is ruined. Deckard–he pained it!”
His chest heaves with raw emotion. “He took everything that was mine and left me drowning in misery. He took Amica. It’s his fault my unborn child was killed. And now—even my home isn’t safe. I feel like death is waiting for me around every corner.”
His voice drops, heavy with bitterness.
“Don’t blame me for lurking in the shadows. This is the only place I’ve found that feels remotely safe.”
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Chapter 200
He pauses, eyes filled with rage and sorrow. “And don’t judge me for watching from a distance. It’s the closest I can come to the life that should have been mine.”
For a second, I feel the edge of sympathy claw at my heart–but I shut it out just as quickly.
Because while he speaks, my mind is calculating. Every word, every move. Dane may be broken, but broken men are the easiest to manipulate.
There’s clear resentment in Dane’s voice–deep, raw, and burning–and I know immediately that this could work in my favor.
I don’t need to hear his entire sob story. I’ve heard enough to know that he wants vengeance, and that makes him useful. A pawn in my grand design.
So, I let him stay.
He’s desperate, broken, angry–the perfect accomplice. In time, he reveals the secret path the woods conceal, the one hidden in plain sight.
The narrow trail leads right back to the manor’s garden. Amica’s garden. The one she always strolls into for fresh air and solitude. She loves that place. She feels safe there. But she has no idea where it leads.
That ignorance is my advantage.
I begin laying the groundwork for the most flawless plan I’ve ever executed–stealing the child. Because I’ve known all along. She wasn’t carrying just one baby. No. She was carrying two.
What grew inside her womb was rare. Power beyond comprehension. One look at them and I knew–these children are not ordinary. The girl is fierce. A storm disguised as a flower. She’ll bring kings to their knees and ignite wars between nations.
But the boy… the boy is different.
Stubborn. Relentless. Born to bend the world to his will. A force that cannot be tamed.
I know I have to get my hands on them.
From the moment I sensed what Amica carries, I begin preparations–every single day, returning to that hidden path, brewing powerful potions meant to manipulate nature itself. I am crafting a force to pull destiny forward, to hasten her labor to the perfect moment.
I start the potions the day I discover the truth about Amica’s pregnancy. Twins. Power.
And then fate aligns with my will.
Deckard decide to travel–leaving Amica behind just when she was close to Labor
The night before that day, I remain awake, channeling every ounce of my strength into the winds. I intensify my magic, weaving spells into the very air around the manor. My goal: draw Amica into labor, force her body to surrender early to the call I’ve cast through the herbs and elements.
It works.
Restless she roams the manor. Her instincts lead her straight into the garden-, where the scent of my spell is thick and strong. It lures her forward like a siren song, until she finds the path. The gate opens, and she stumbles deeper into the woods.
Right into my trap.
I hear her cries echo through the trees, sharp and raw. So does Dane. He stirs beside me, eyes wide, panic in his bones. He wants to run
to her.
But I stop him
“Not yet,” I whisper. “She must do this alone.”
And she will.
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Chapter 200
She isn’t meant to see any of us.
Her cries pierced through the stillness, gut–wrenching and raw–but we held our ground. As long as Amica was still conscious, I couldn’t risk her seeing either of us. Not yet..
When I heard the first cry of the baby, my heart leapt. Relief. Satisfaction. But it didn’t last–another wave of fear crashed through me. The second baby wasn’t crying. Something was wrong.
I sank deeper into my trance, tightened the spell. The air around me pulsed as I whispered ancient words that bent the forces of life. Then finally, another cry–a sharper, more defiant one. The boy was born.
From the shadows, I watched her trembling hands bring the child to her chest. She fed him, unaware that her body was giving out, her life force draining. I knew she would pass out soon. She had lost too much blood. And once she did, my plan had to unfold–perfectly, quickly.
Originally, I had intended to take both children. They were rare, powerful. Twins born of fate, each with a destiny that could shape or destroy entire kingdoms. But taking both would raise too many alarms.
So I made a choice.
I took the boy. Wrapped him in enchanted cloth, protected his scent with spells, and handed him over to Dane, who would take him far away–where I could find him later, once the chaos had passed.
Then I took the girl into my arms–bloodied, silent, radiant. I ran to the manor, calling out for help, pretending to have just found Amica.
No one suspected a thing.
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