Chapter 245: Chapter 245 White Fang Miracle
Perry’s POV
I cradled Phoebe against my chest, pressing my lips to her forehead while desperately trying to stem the blood flowing from her neck. Her name fell from my lips over and over, but she remained still and silent.
"Please, open your eyes... please, wake up."
I brushed my mouth against the tip of her nose, then against her lips that had grown frighteningly cold.
Even her long black hair was matted with crimson.
"I want to hear your voice... ask me anything, everything and I will do it for you. I will give you whatever you want... but, please, wake up..."
I pressed my forehead to hers, gently shaking her limp form.
Somewhere behind me, Wallace had sent one of his men to fetch Marcela. The rest remained on their knees, careful not to draw my attention or disturb this moment. They had no idea what I might do.
Right now, I was consumed by grief over losing my mate, but they couldn’t predict when that sorrow might transform into something far more dangerous.
"Phoebe..." I whispered her name again, but still...
nothing.
I kept my forehead pressed against hers, staying frozen in that position for what felt like hours. Even when Marcela finally appeared, I hadn’t shifted an inch.
"My king..." Marcela’s voice was cautious as she approached. Fear radiated from her - she knew that in my current state, I might lash out blindly and kill her without thinking.
With the way I held Phoebe so tightly, Marcela couldn’t get a clear view of the wound, though she already knew the truth. Phoebe was gone. The knowledge tore through her like a blade.
——
Marcela fought back her tears, her voice trembling as she spoke.
"My king... let me check her." She knew it was pointless, but she hoped to distract him enough that he might release Phoebe’s body.
When Perry finally raised his head, one look from him was enough to silence her completely. The healer dropped to her knees and bowed her head, shaking with both terror and grief.
Guilt consumed her thoughts.
If not for her actions, Phoebe might still be breathing. She was the one who had pushed Phoebe to leave with those three warriors. Marcela had wanted to stay with her, but at the time, she’d believed departure would mean safety.
That decision had become her greatest mistake and deepest regret.
Marcela wiped her tears as she stared at the earth beneath her. As if the heavens themselves mourned their loss, rain began falling once more.
The forest had grown pitch black by now.
Thunder crashed overhead while lightning split the dark sky.
Wild wolves prowled among the scattered remains of their enemies, easily tearing apart the bodies that the king had already dismembered.
More wolves emerged from the shadows with each passing moment. Nearly a hundred of the savage creatures now encircled them.
Wallace, his warriors, and Marcela feared not only their king’s unpredictable rage, but also these untamed beasts.
They had no familiarity with wild wolves, knowing only that these creatures were ruthless and answered solely to the king’s commands.
Several wolves stalked closer to their group. Marcela trembled more than the others, completely defenseless against such predators.
All of them kept their heads lowered, though they stole glances at the king to read his mood. That’s when they spotted a small pup - pure white - approaching the royal pair.
This was the same pup that had hidden in the tree hollow while Phoebe sought shelter. The little one padded toward them and climbed onto Phoebe’s still form, releasing a soft whimper as if expressing its own sorrow.
——
Perry’s POV
I remained motionless, unwilling to release her.
The urge to destroy everything around me warred with overwhelming exhaustion that seemed to drain my very soul.
Losing Phoebe meant losing my strength, my hope, my reason for existing.
The small pup moved across Phoebe’s torso, settling on her chest before shifting toward her throat.
I lifted my head slightly, watching this strange behavior.
My brow furrowed. Part of me wanted to grab the creature and hurl it aside, but I lacked the energy to move.
My body felt like a contradiction - powerful enough to battle a hundred beasts, yet too weak to even stand while carrying my mate.
It wasn’t her weight that held me down, but the crushing weight in my chest...
The wolf pup began licking at Phoebe’s wound.
My eyes narrowed. If this creature tried to feed on her like the other wolves were doing with the corpses around us, I would snap its neck.
But the pup didn’t feast. Instead, it cleaned the wound methodically until the bleeding stopped completely.
Before my eyes, I watched Phoebe’s torn flesh slowly knit itself back together, as though her healing abilities had somehow returned.
Impossible. Even shifters couldn’t heal once death claimed them.
"What is going on?" Marcela whispered to herself. She sat closer to us than Wallace and his men, unable to see clearly but sensing something significant happening based on my expression.
I studied the scene intently, my electric blue eyes darkening as confusion replaced despair.
I focused on Phoebe’s wound and realized her skin no longer felt ice cold. This made no sense...
Then I saw her chest rise and fall.
No way...
I had to be imagining things...
