Chapter 6: This Time, I'm Done Waiting
Mara's POV
Friday afternoon in Seattle, and of course it rained. The wound that was supposed to be slowly healing turned sharp and stinging, red and itching — like an angry centipede squirming under my skin, keeping me awake.
Naomi wheeled herself in and helped me into a dark, neatly pressed set of clothes.
"Her people are already downstairs, in the small prayer room," Naomi said softly.
The door to my hospital room opened. Ronan walked in.
I was the one who'd texted him, asking if he'd come.
I still remember that day — he was the one who carried me out of the fire. When I was at my most alone, when even my own husband had abandoned me, it was Ronan who stayed outside the ER and sat with me while I heard the cruelest news of my life.
Besides Naomi, he was the only other person who'd witnessed that tragedy — and the only one who had genuinely cared about the life we lost.
As the Lycan King, he had mountains of business to deal with. He could easily have sent flowers. Or replied with a single "My condolences." But he came in person. He was dressed formally today, as if attending a ceremony of the utmost gravity.
He glanced at me and said, quietly, "I went to the site earlier. I had the extra security and the funeral staff sent away. It's just us. No outsiders. You won't be disturbed."
"Thank you for coming," I said, grateful.
He nodded, then walked over and held the door for us.
Downstairs in the hospital's farewell room, white flowers were arranged in a small circle.
I'd asked Naomi to prepare them.
Ronan had told me that when the pack sends off a child who never grew up, they leave a lamp burning for them and pray to the Moon Goddess, asking her to look after the child.
I didn't know any of those prayers. But I still wanted to beg for my son, just once.
"I'm not a wolf," I said quietly to Ronan. "Will the Moon Goddess hear me too?"
"She will," he said.
I turned back and prayed with all my heart: Moon Goddess, please look after him.
The moment I said it, the tears fell.
"He's so small. I'm afraid to be alone—I'm afraid he'll be scared, all by himself."
Naomi held my hand, standing beside my wheelchair.
There was so much I never got to tell my son. I'd imagined bringing him home. I'd imagined him growing up alongside his sister — I'd even wondered whether they'd fight over toys one day.
Now all I could do was ask the Moon Goddess to care for him in my place.
"I'm sorry, baby. Mama never even got to give you a name."
After leaving the farewell room, Naomi wheeled me to the NICU.
Through the thick glass, I saw Wren again. She lay in her incubator, still covered in those monitor lines.
"Her breathing's been more stable on her own since this morning, and she's taking a little more milk," the nurse said.
"See? Look how hard she's fighting," Naomi said, patting my shoulder to comfort me.
I nodded. Back in my room, Naomi helped me lie down. Ronan waited until she'd tucked the blanket around me before he spoke.
"There's one more thing. I think you should know." He looked me in the eye.
My fingers tightened on the armrest of the wheelchair. "What is it?"
"That day, when I was outside the balcony getting ready to break the window, I saw a short metal pin driven into the outer track of your French window. I believe that's why you couldn't push it open, no matter how hard you tried."
The room was so quiet I could hear us breathing.
Something buzzed in my head — the handle I couldn't pull that day, the smoke pouring in through the gap beneath the door.
"A metal pin?" Naomi asked, shocked. "You're saying someone deliberately sealed the window shut?"
"The investigators have already gone to verify it." Ronan didn't jump to conclusions; he just looked at me. "But you need to know — this may not have been a simple fire."
Then it hit me — the texts that had vanished into thin air. A massive chill crawled up my spine.
Someone had deliberately used the contract to lure me into the second-floor study, then driven a metal pin into the only escape route.
This was no accident. This was a murder aimed straight at me.
After Ronan left, my mind was in chaos. Who?
I closed my eyes and forced myself not to think about the hand hiding in the dark. Even if I had a guess now, I had no hard evidence — and no strength to go after them right away.
Naomi held out a key card, interrupting my thoughts: "It's an apartment on the street just next to the hospital. I've rented it by the month, and the essentials are all furnished," she said. "Once you're discharged, it's a short walk to come see Wren every day."
"Thank you, Naomi." I gripped the card, and for the first time I felt something solid beneath my feet.
Ronan had listened to our arrangements, and he spoke up at the right moment: "On the day you're discharged, do you need me to arrange a car to take you both over?"
I shook my head. "We'll call our own. You've already done more than enough for me these past few days."
Ronan nodded. "All right. Then if anything else comes up, contact me anytime."
"Ronan." I stopped him.
He paused, turning back with a puzzled look.
"...Thank you for being here today." I looked at him, my voice soft. "If you're not in a hurry — could you sit in the room a little longer? Just five minutes."
The ceremony was over, but that small coffin and the bone-deep chill still lingered in my mind. I didn't want to sink into that emptiness alone, not yet.
Ronan looked at my pale face. "Of course."
He pulled the chair over and sat back down. He didn't make a point of saying comforting things — he just sat there, keeping me quiet company.
Outside, the rain tapped softly against the glass.
He didn't stand up until the nurse came in to take my temperature.
"I'll contact you before you're discharged," he said, low.
"Okay."
Ronan's POV
After I wheeled Mara back to her room, I had my driver take the car to Vale Medical Center.
The boy lay in his incubator, hooked up to a ventilator and monitor lines.
"Alpha." The on-duty doctor came over. "His heart rate and blood oxygen have improved today, but the brain MRI results aren't good. The hypoxic damage is worse than expected."
He paused. "I need to confirm again — are you sure you want to keep this from the mother?"
I didn't answer right away. My wolf was howling in my head — it hadn't stopped since hours ago.
[You can't let her know.]
[It'll hurt her.]
I didn't know why.
Mara wasn't my mate. We'd barely exchanged a few words. But from the moment I pulled her out of that fire, my wolf had started stirring, urging me to protect her, to keep her from any harm.
Tell her now that the child is alive — and then what?
If the boy doesn't make it in the end...
How is she supposed to survive losing him a second time?
[It'll kill her,] my wolf said.
"Keep it hidden," I said. "If the child doesn't pull through, let her believe he never made it from the start."
The doctor nodded. "I understand."
Maybe I'm just a bastard who took it upon himself to decide.
But I saw the way she cried until she lost her voice outside the delivery room. My wolf won't allow her to go through that again.
I stood looking through the glass a while longer. The baby's fingers were so small; his legs moved faintly.
Hold on.
When your mother's ready, I'll tell her.
