Chapter 227: Chapter 227 Left to Die
The brutal wounds from their attackers forced Fiona back into human form with a sickening crack of bones reshaping. She collapsed hard, her knees hitting the blood-soaked earth as agony exploded through every nerve.
Air refused to fill her lungs. Each breath was liquid fire.
"Kill... Reginald..." The words tore from her throat as she watched him tear into the same beast that had shredded her chest. Her hand reached desperately toward him, fingers trembling. "Reginald..."
Then the real pain hit.
Something warm and wet spread between her thighs, soaking through her torn clothes. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils as tears cascaded down her dirt-streaked cheeks.
Death wouldn’t claim her—not yet. Her healing powers would eventually kick in, knitting flesh back together, forcing her heart to keep beating. She just needed time.
But when enemies surrounded you and your body was failing, time became your executioner.
"No! No! NO!" Allen’s roar cut through the chaos as he spotted the blood pooling beneath Fiona. Rage consumed his features, twisting them into something inhuman.
The sight meant only one thing—the baby was gone.
Fiona wasn’t far along in the pregnancy, making this the most dangerous time. Every shifter knew the rules. Shifting during early pregnancy was like playing Russian roulette with an unborn life.
She’d done it anyway.
"What have you done?! Have you completely lost your mind?" Allen abandoned his own fight, stalking toward her with murder in his eyes. "You did this deliberately!"
His child—possibly his son—destroyed because of her recklessness.
Through the waves of physical agony, Fiona felt something else entirely: pure, crystalline satisfaction.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She’d saved her mate’s life while simultaneously destroying the thing that tied her to Allen forever. The baby she’d never wanted, carrying the genes of a man she despised.
Allen’s expression made every moment of pain worth it.
His desperation was medicine to her wounds.
His curses were a symphony to her ears.
"You foolish, selfish woman!" Allen seethed, but before he could reach her, Reginald’s massive beast form slammed into him, sending him sprawling.
Reginald shifted back to human form as he reached Fiona, his hands immediately assessing her wounds. Blood soaked his fingers within seconds.
"How bad is it? Can you move?" His voice carried urgent concern, but his eyes calculated their survival odds with cold efficiency.
"I... I can’t..." Fiona’s fingers clutched desperately at his shirt, leaving crimson handprints on the fabric. "Don’t... Don’t abandon me... please..."
Reginald’s gaze swept their surroundings. Darkness crept through the forest like a living thing as more enemies emerged from the shadows. They had maybe thirty seconds before the next wave hit.
"I won’t," he said.
But as Reginald moved to lift Fiona into his arms, two of Mya’s warriors burst through the treeline. Their eyes glowed with predatory hunger, claws extended, muscles coiled for the killing strike.
No time to shift. No room to maneuver. No chance to run.
In that split second of absolute crisis, survival instinct override everything else.
Reginald grabbed Fiona’s shoulders and thrust her directly into the path of the charging beasts.
The first warrior’s claws sank deep into Fiona’s throat with a wet, tearing sound. The second beast struck simultaneously, its fangs finding the soft flesh of her chest.
Reginald used that exact moment—while both attackers were focused on their prey—to strike.
His fist drove through Fiona’s ribcage from behind, using her body as leverage to reach the first wolf’s heart. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. The beast collapsed with Reginald’s hand still embedded in its chest.
The second attacker looked up just in time to see Reginald’s other hand coming for its throat.
Two quick, efficient kills.
And one necessary sacrifice.
Fiona’s eyes went wide as understanding dawned. Not from the pain—shifters could endure incredible physical trauma. But from the look in Reginald’s eyes as he withdrew his blood-soaked hands from the carnage.
Completely calm. Utterly emotionless. Like she’d never mattered at all.
Her lips parted, trying to form words, but only blood emerged.
Then Reginald simply stepped over her broken body, shifted into his beast form, and engaged the next wave of attackers charging through the forest.
Fiona’s final moments were spent staring up at the dark canopy above, feeling her life leak into the cold earth beneath her. Her body convulsed as shock set in, but her mind remained cruelly clear.
Before unconsciousness could offer mercy, she saw Reginald’s wolf moving away through the trees. He glanced back once—not at her, but checking for additional threats—before disappearing into the darkness.
So this was how it ended.
Reginald wouldn’t even waste the time to bury her. Why would he, when he’d orchestrated her death to save his own skin?
The brutal truth settled over her like a burial shroud: if she could rewind time, she’d have run the moment she first saw his face. Every choice she’d made for him, every sacrifice, every moment of love—all of it had led to this moment, bleeding out alone in the dirt while he walked away without a backward glance.
Her final thought was bitter satisfaction. At least Allen’s precious heir had died with her.
———
Phoebe’s POV
"Movement outside," Marcela whispered to Justin, her face pressed against the window. "Are you certain it’s just one person?"
"No. Multiple hostiles." Justin’s jaw tensed as he strained to peer through the darkness. "I can sense at least six, maybe more."
The nightly fog made visibility nearly impossible, but the wild wolves hadn’t stopped howling since sunset—nature’s way of warning us about the predators circling our sanctuary.
"I should scout the perimeter," Wade offered, already moving toward the door.
"Absolutely not." Justin’s command stopped him cold. "You follow orders, not instincts."
Wade’s face flushed with embarrassment as Orion stepped beside him. "Your job is to protect the queen, not play hero. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
I hugged myself tighter on the sofa, feeling the room’s tension like electricity in the air. Whatever lurked outside remained unknown, but danger pressed against us from all sides.
"Shouldn’t we contact the palace for reinforcements?" I suggested. "If they’ve found us, this safe house is compromised. No point maintaining secrecy."
Marcela nodded grimly. "Phoebe’s right."
Before anyone could respond, Justin and the others suddenly went rigid.
"They’re moving," Justin said.
