A Warrior's Second Chance (Faye and Alexander) novel Chapter 510

THIRD POV

The moment Helen stepped into her room, she quietly closed the door behind her.

The smile she had been wearing downstairs disappeared instantly.

She set the grocery bags on a nearby chair and released a slow breath.

Then another.

The headache was back.

Not that it had ever truly left.

It had only been waiting.

Growing worse with each passing day.

Helen moved quickly toward her dresser.

The moment she reached it, she planted both hands against the surface and stared at her reflection in the

mirror.

Her face looked normal.

Mostly.

If someone glanced at her for only a second, they would never notice anything was wrong.

But Helen knew better.

She saw the exhaustion hiding beneath her eyes.

The unnatural paleness she had become increasingly skilled at concealing.

And then there was the blood.

A thin line of red slipped from one nostril.

Right on schedule.

Helen immediately grabbed a disposable towel from the dresser.

She pressed it against her nose.

Her eyes closed briefly.

Downstairs, Alexander was sitting in her living room.

If she had remained there for even another minute, he would have noticed.

Perhaps not with his eyes.

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But certainly with his senses.

The smell of blood would have reached him long before it started coming out.

And once that happened, the questions would start.

Questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

Questions she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to answer

She carefully wiped away the blood and checked the towel.

More than before.

Again.

Helen swallowed.

The bleeding had started during the ritual.

The moment she had forced herself to complete magic that should never have been possible.

Magic that demanded a price.

A price she had willingly paid.

Because there had never been another option.

Not where Faye was concerned.

Not when it came to saving someone Alexander loved.

Not when it came to giving that young woman another chance at life.

Helen had known the risks before she began.

She had known exactly what the ritual would cost her.

And she had done it anyway.

She never told Alexander about the full risk involved.

She did what had to be done.

She didn’t regret it.

Not for a single second.

That wasn’t what kept her awake at night.

What troubled her was something else entirely.

The fact that she had lied.

Every day since the ritual, she had smiled.

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Every day, she had assured everyone she was recovering normally.

“She had told Alexander she was fine.

But she wasn’t.

The truth was much simpler.

And much crueler.

She was dying.

The magic had taken too much from her.

There was no recovering from it.

No cure, no miracle waiting around the corner.

No hidden solution she hadn’t already considered.

This was the end.

Helen had accepted that.

She had made peace with it.

Mostly.

The difficult part wasn’t dying.

The difficult part was leaving her children behind.

Alexander and Irene.

Neither of them knew.

And every time she tried to imagine telling them, her courage failed.

How was she supposed to look her son in the eye and tell him there was nothing he could do?

How was she supposed to tell Irene that all the plans she still had for the future would have to be made

without her?

Helen opened one of the dresser drawers.

Inside sat a small container filled with dark liquid medicine.

Her fingers wrapped around it automatically.

A habit now.

A routine.

She unscrewed the lid and poured a measured spoonful.

Then drank it.

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The hitter taste spread across her tongue immediately.

She barely reacted.

The medicine wasn’t a cure.

It never had been.

It simply helped manage the symptoms.

Helped slow the bleeding.

Helped her appear healthy enough that no one would ask questions.

At least for a little while longer.

Helen replaced the lid and returned the container to the drawer.

Then she stood quietly.

Waiting.

西

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