Chapter 79

Elara

The air that night was quiet—quieter than it had been in weeks. The house had settled into the kind of stillness that only came with exhaustion, the last embers in the fireplace flickering softly behind the glass. Even the wind outside had gone still, barely rustling the edges of the curtains as the moon hung full and bright over the treeline.

I should have been sleeping, but I wasn’t.

Instead, I lay on my side, one hand resting against the swell of my stomach, the other stretched across the sheets until my fingers brushed against Alaric’s wrist where it rested on top of the blankets. His breathing was steady, deep and slow, the faint rise and fall of his chest nearly lulling me into the sleep I had been chasing for the past hour.

But something was keeping me awake tonight.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe it was because I was so busy mulling over everything we had been through over the past six months—the nonstop fighting, negotiating, and clawing toward a future that felt like it was just barely within reach. Moonwolf rights.

I didn’t know if the words would ever stop tasting strange in my mouth.

There were days when the burden of it all felt unbearable—when I couldn’t walk through town without feeling the pointed stares digging into my back or hearing the whispers that trailed behind me. I saw it in their eyes.

Moonwolf.

Outsider.

Some of them didn’t say it out loud. Others did. But none of them needed to say it for me to sense the hatred and distrust in their gazes.

Even now, after all this time, after every captive we had freed and every treaty we had secured, some of them still looked at me like I wasn’t supposed to exist.

Alaric always told me to ignore it. He said it didn’t matter what they thought—as long as we kept pushing, they would come around eventually. But some nights, it felt like I was fighting a battle with no end in sight.

And yet… I wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.

Because every time I stepped foot into the northern sanctuary, I saw them. The moonwolves we had freed—the ones who had been little more than shadows of themselves, caged and drained until there was nothing left but empty eyes and trembling hands. I saw those same people now rebuilding their lives, standing under open skies, their children running free across the hills. I saw my mother.

That was worth everything.

“Elara...”

Alaric’s hand moved beneath mine, his fingers curling around my own. His eyes barely opened, but even through the haze of sleep, they softened when they met mine.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” I whispered.

He shrugged and yawned. “No. But you should be sleeping.”

I smiled faintly. “I was just thinking.”

He let out a soft hum, rolling onto his side until his face was inches from mine. “Thinking about good things, I hope,” he said quietly.

“Mostly.”

His brow quirked upward. “Mostly?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I shifted closer, tucking myself beneath his chin until his arm wrapped around my waist, his palm resting lightly against the curve of my belly.

“Do you ever think about what happens next?” I asked quietly.

Alaric exhaled slowly, his fingers spreading wider against my stomach, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin fabric of my nightgown. “Every day,” he murmured. “But I try not to overthink it. The future will come whether we’re ready for it or not.”

I tilted my head, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. “I know. I guess I just… want to make sure we’re doing enough. For the moonwolves. For the girls. For him.”

His hand shifted, splaying gently over our unborn child, and his lips found the top of my head in response.

“You’re doing more than enough,” he said softly. “You always have.”

I wanted to believe him.

But before I could say anything else, something shifted deep inside me—like the pull of a string I hadn’t realized was connected to me at all.

I stiffened.

“Elara?” Alaric’s voice sharpened instantly, his hand pressing more firmly against my stomach as if he could somehow feel what I was feeling.

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. “I think… I think it’s time.”

His body went rigid beside me, his eyes widening as he pushed himself upright, scanning my face for any hint of uncertainty.

“Now?” he asked, as if there could possibly be another answer.

I nodded slowly. “Now.”

For a moment, he just stared at me. And then—

“Okay. Okay.” He scrambled out of bed so quickly he nearly tripped over the corner of the blanket, muttering something under his breath as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “I’ll call—”

I reached out, catching his wrist before he could dial. “There’s no rush. It’s just starting.”

Alaric’s gaze flicked back to me, his expression softening just enough to make my heart ache. He sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, his hands settling on either side of my legs as he pressed his forehead against my belly.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible over the pounding in my ears.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. “I love you too.”

…

Alexander came into the world just before dawn, his tiny cries filling the quiet room like the first breeze of spring.

Alaric held him first, cradling him so carefully it was almost comical. But the smile on his face was enough to make up for it—a smile so bright it felt like it could burn through every shadow that had ever come into our lives.

“He’s perfect,” Alaric whispered as he lowered himself onto the bed beside me, settling Alexander gently into my arms.

I traced the soft curve of his cheek, brushing my thumb over the little wisp of hair curling at his forehead. Alaric was right: he really was perfect. Perfect, innocent, and ours. Something that I never thought possible.

The door creaked open a moment later, and two small figures stepped hesitantly into the room. Ella and Zoe stood there, wringing their hands nervously. Alaric and I waved them forward, Alaric placing his finger over his lips so as not to wake the sleeping baby.

They didn’t speak right away, their eyes wide as they crept closer to the bed, peering at their baby brother with awe.

“Can we…?” Ella trailed off, glancing up at Alaric.

He smiled, beckoning them closer until they were perched on the edge of the bed.

“He’s so small,” Zoe whispered.

Ella grinned when she stuck her finger out and Alexander instinctively wrapped his little fist around it in that way that babies always could. “I think he likes me already.”

I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. I could already picture the three of them, older, Ella and Zoe caring for their little brother—and maybe tormenting him a little in the most adorable of ways.

And for the first time in a long, long while… I was happy.

Truly happy.