Chapter 269: Chapter 269 A Mother’s Touch
Phoebe’s POV
"Oh, Samuel..." The words came out as barely a whisper. My heart clenched watching this warrior—this man who’d faced down armies—crumble before my eyes. "I’m so sorry."
Samuel’s jaw tightened. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, harsh and quick, like he was trying to erase the vulnerability I’d just witnessed.
"Don’t be, my queen. I’m fine." But his voice cracked on the last word, betraying everything he was trying to hide.
The composed mask slid back into place, but I could see the storm raging underneath. His hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists.
"Why don’t you travel to the Astrid pack?" I suggested, keeping my voice gentle.
"I can’t do that." Samuel shot me a quick glance, then shook his head violently. "She’s dead. There’s no reason for me to go there."
"But you’re not certain of that, are you?" I reached out, my fingers brushing against his back. He flinched like I’d burned him. "Don’t you want closure? I know you think about her every day."
His shoulders sagged. "But I can’t leave."
"Why not?"
"I have an obligation to protect you." Even he knew how weak that sounded.
I rolled my eyes. "Do you honestly believe that’s necessary?" Disbelief colored my voice. "I release you from that duty. Wade is here. Our warriors are here. You’re babysitting me at this point."
Silence stretched between us. Samuel stared at the sick child, but I could tell his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"I’ll speak to Perry about this," I said firmly.
"You don’t need to—"
"I want to."
Something shifted in his expression. Gratitude mixed with fear, hope warring with despair.
Before either of us could say more, Jude returned with her basket of plants, and Patricia appeared to tell us the fire was ready.
---
Perry’s POV
Alpha Hans could no longer hold himself upright.
His legs were shattered. Several ribs broken. Blood pooled beneath him on the stone floor.
Even with werewolf healing, broken bones took time. Hans wouldn’t be walking away from this room.
Ever.
"I’ll let you see your son one final time," I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And I’ll spare your family."
I crouched down. Grabbed a fistful of his hair. Forced his head up until our eyes met.
"Tell me exactly how you escaped Death Valley alive."
Hans laughed—a bitter, broken sound that echoed off the walls. Pure hatred burned in his gaze.
"Sacrifice." He spat blood. "You need a sacrifice."
The story came out in fragments. His younger stepsister. Born from an omega. Nobody cared about her because she was female.
In this kingdom, girls were invisible unless men needed them for pleasure.
"I sacrificed her," he said, that dark laugh bubbling up again. "Fed her to whatever lives in that cursed place. Now let me see my son."
His son hadn’t been in the pack during our attack. Hans assumed the boy had escaped.
He had no idea I’d captured him first.
I straightened slowly. "Timothy, bring the boy."
In Hans’s mind, he was already planning his final speech. Tell his son to do whatever it took to survive. Even bow to the king who’d destroyed their world.
As long as the boy lived, revenge would be possible someday.
But Timothy’s warriors carried in a corpse.
The body was barely recognizable. Dried blood. Missing limbs. The smell of death thick in the air.
"No." Hans’s voice broke. "No, no, no..."
"ARRGGHH!" The scream tore from his throat like an animal in agony. He tried to rise, tried to crawl toward what remained of his child. "What have you done?! What have you DONE?!"
His broken legs collapsed under him. He hit the floor hard, bones grinding against stone.
"You lied! You said I could see my son!"
"And you did see him," I replied calmly. "I never specified he’d be alive."
"I’m going to kill you!" Hans lunged forward with pure desperation fueling him. "I’m going to rip your throat out!"
Timothy’s blade found Hans’s neck before he could move another inch.
The silver dagger sliced clean through. Hans’s head hit the floor with a wet thud, rolling until it came to rest beside his son’s corpse.
"Father and son reunited," Timothy said, wiping his blade clean. He frowned at me. "Why did you need that information about Death Valley? Don’t tell me you’re planning to go there."
I didn’t answer. Simply walked toward the door.
"Perry!" Timothy followed, his voice sharp with concern. "What’s going through your mind? Is this about Phoebe?"
Still, I gave him nothing. Timothy knew better than to push when I went silent.
But I could feel his worry following me down the corridor.
---
Phoebe’s POV
My arm burned from stirring the mixture, but I couldn’t stop. Not when a child’s life hung in the balance.
"My queen, please let me take over," Jude pleaded, watching me work.
"No." I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but there was no room for error here. "There are specific techniques. The strength has to be exact. The rhythm can’t change."
Too fast and the mixture would become too thick to swallow. Too slow and the ingredients wouldn’t blend properly.
"I’ll teach you later," I promised, seeing the guilt in her eyes. "But right now, Harlow needs this medicine quickly."
Jude dropped to her knees in the dirt. "Thank you, Queen Phoebe. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d give my life for you."
"Please, get up." Since I couldn’t help her myself, I nodded to Samuel. "You don’t need to thank me."
Samuel lifted her gently while Patricia thanked me through tears. The little girl was her niece, and having someone like me help them was beyond anything they’d dared dream.
Finally, the mixture was ready. My arm felt like it might fall off, but I smiled as I poured the medicine into a cup.
"Let it cool first," I instructed. "What’s her name?"
"Harlow," Jude replied softly, gazing at her daughter with such pure love it made my chest tight.
"That’s beautiful."
Watching Jude with her child sent a familiar ache through me. The way she looked at Harlow—like she was the most precious thing in the world—made me wonder if I’d ever experience that feeling.
Marcela had told me to make peace with being childless. That pursuing that dream would only destroy me.
But seeing this moment, seeing this perfect bond between mother and daughter...
The emptiness inside me cracked open like a wound. Sharp and sudden and devastating.
I’d always pictured a small family. A child or two with Perry’s eyes or my smile.
But my condition made that impossible.
"The mixture will last until tomorrow," I managed, clearing my throat. "I’ll return to check on Harlow and teach you how to make more."
Jude burst into fresh tears. Both she and Patricia knelt again, and I had to tell them repeatedly to stand.
"You don’t owe me anything. I’m happy to help. I’ll try to find a healer too, just to be safe."
After countless expressions of gratitude, I finally made it back to my room.
Exhausted. Emotionally drained. But strangely fulfilled.
I washed up and changed clothes. My head had barely hit the pillow when sleep claimed me.
---
Perry’s POV
I found my mate deep in slumber, and despite the brutal day behind me, I smiled.
After hours soaked in blood and violence, coming home to Phoebe’s peaceful form was everything I needed.
But as I moved closer, I noticed something that made me pause.
Tear tracks on her cheeks. Even in sleep, her brow was slightly furrowed, like she was fighting some inner battle.
What had happened while I was gone?
I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers. She made a soft sound, her body recognizing my touch even in dreams.
"My beautiful mate," I whispered. "What’s troubling you?"
She didn’t answer, of course. But something had clearly upset her today.
And I intended to find out what.
