Maggie – POV

I didn’t know how I got to the hallway.

My feet moved before my mind could catch up—one shaky step after another, away from the room, away from him. My chest tightened with each breath, and the pain in my side flared like a warning siren, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

I needed air.

I needed distance.

I needed to breathe without the weight of him pressing against my lungs.

The house stretched around me like a ghost, unfamiliar and echoing with the fragments of a truth I never asked for. My hand brushed the wall as I stumbled forward, dragging myself toward the far end of the hallway where I found a small room—bare, quiet, untouched.

A bedroom. Maybe once someone’s sanctuary.

Now it was mine, for a moment.

I sank to the cold floor, legs folding beneath me, arms curling around my knees. The silence was unbearable. It didn’t soothe me—it suffocated. My chest heaved, but no tears came. Just the ache. The kind of ache that lives deeper than wounds and bruises. The kind that burrows into your soul.

His words rang over and over in my head.

Maverick’s voice.

His confession.

The prophecy.

The child.

Our child.

I pressed a trembling palm to my stomach.

Nothing. No movement. No flutter of life. Just a silence that echoed back my own disbelief.

I used to imagine what it would feel like—to carry life. To grow something sacred, something born of love and warmth and hope. I used to picture soft mornings, warm hands over my belly, whispered dreams and promises of safety.

But now?

Now it felt like I was carrying a war.

A child born of stolen truths, veiled love, and a prophecy I never asked to be part of. My ribs tightened with grief. With betrayal. With the sense that something irreversible had cracked inside me.

A knock came at the door. Quiet. Hesitant.

I didn’t move.

“Maggie…” Maverick’s voice drifted through the wood like a plea. “Please. Just let me explain.”

I kept my eyes on the floor. “You already did,” I whispered.

Silence fell between us, thick and unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice raw. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I closed my eyes. “But you did.”

I could barely speak. My throat burned with unshed tears.

“You hurt me in the worst way,” I choked. “You took something I can never get back. I trusted you. You caused me pain. You broke me.” My voice cracked like glass underfoot, and I sobbed through the words.

Still, I didn’t hear him leave.

I didn’t hear him stay.

I didn’t care.

Eventually, exhaustion won. I must’ve fallen asleep there, on the cold floor, surrounded by shadows and silence.

It was the chill that woke me.

The room had gone dark. Moonlight spilled in through the window, a soft, haunting glow that danced across the floorboards like silver flames. I sat up slowly, pain tugging at my side like a cruel reminder that I wasn’t healed—not in body, not in spirit.

The house was silent.

Too silent.

I held my breath.

Something was wrong.

The air was tense, thick like the sky before a storm. I felt it in my bones before I heard it—scraping. A light scratch against the outer wall.

Then another.

My heart stuttered.

I pushed myself up and crept toward the window.

Outside, the forest swayed in the wind, but the movement in the shadows didn’t match the trees. It was off. Too quick. Too low.

Not shadows.

Rogues.

I stepped back from the window, my breath catching in my throat. My pulse roared in my ears.

Then I turned—

And screamed.

A man stood in the doorway.

Not Maverick.

Not Felix.

He was taller than both, built like a wall, his eyes gleaming with something feral. A jagged scar cut down his jaw, and the stench of blood and smoke clung to him like armor.

“Hello, hybrid mother,” he sneered, yellowed teeth flashing in the moonlight. “We’ve been looking for you.”

I didn’t have time to scream again.

He lunged.

But he didn’t reach me.

A storm exploded into the room—Maverick.

He crashed into the rogue with the force of a hurricane, snarling, driving him back into the hallway. The impact sent both of them tumbling into the shadows. I heard the splintering of wood, the crack of bone, the inhuman growl that ripped from Maverick’s throat.

Then another window shattered.

Two more rogues burst through the back. I grabbed the first thing I could—a broken lamp from the corner.

I didn’t think.

I swung.

Glass shattered against a rogue’s temple. He howled, staggering back. Blood sprayed across the wall.

Maverick was back in the room before I could blink. His body shifted mid-strike—fur and claws, teeth and fury. He moved like a beast possessed. He was beautiful and terrifying. And outnumbered.

There were too many.

“Run!” he roared. “Maggie, GO!”

I didn’t argue.

I turned and ran, legs pumping, lungs burning. I didn’t stop to look back. Didn’t stop to feel. Just moved.

Through the hall. Through the door. Into the night.

The forest swallowed me whole.

Branches clawed at my skin. Twigs cracked beneath me. I didn’t care. I ran until my legs gave out.

I collapsed against a tree trunk near the riverbank, gasping for air. My hands were shaking, blood staining my sleeve. I felt raw, like the night had peeled back all my layers and left me hollow.

And still, instinctively, my hand found my stomach.

Still alive.

Still mine.

Even if I didn’t know what that meant anymore.

I closed my eyes. I could still hear the echoes—growls, glass breaking, Maverick yelling my name.

I had no idea how long I sat there, lost in the cold silence.

Then a voice cut through the night.

“You always did have a knack for running.”

I flinched, eyes snapping open.

Felix.

He leaned against a tree just a few feet away, arms crossed, that familiar unreadable smirk tugging at his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, too tired for fear. “Where’s Maverick? Is he—”

“Alive,” Felix said, stepping forward. “Barely. But alive.”

Relief washed over me like rain after a fire.

Felix’s gaze swept over me. “You’re lucky to have gotten away. They weren’t just hunting any wolf tonight. They were after you. Specifically.”

“I gathered,” I muttered.

He crouched beside me, tone softening. “Maggie… you need protection. More than Maverick can give. The rogues know what you carry. And now? So does the Council.”

I blinked. “The Council?” My voice cracked. “What does the Council want with me?”

“They want power,” Felix said. “Your child isn’t just a prophecy anymore. It’s leverage. A weapon. A future they can mold to their favor.”

I felt my stomach churn.

“And you?” I whispered. “What do you want?”

He smiled faintly. “Same as always. Balance.”

“Don’t give me riddles, Felix. Not now.”

His smile faded. “I want you to survive. And I want that child protected. But to do that, you’re going to have to choose.”

“Choose what?”

“Who to trust. Who to protect. And how far you’re willing to go for the child you carry. Because the war’s already started, Maggie. You just haven’t picked a side yet.”

I stared at him, lost, broken, and afraid. “I don’t even know what I believe anymore.”

Felix met my eyes—uncharacteristically gentle.

“Then let me help you figure it out.”