A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 268

FAYE

I was standing by the window when the night finally swallowed the last trace of dusk.

The glass was cold beneath my fingertips, grounding in a way nothing else had been since everything fell apart. Outside, the trees swayed softly, shadows folding into one another like secrets the dark was determined to keep. Somewhere beyond them, the world continued as if it hadn’t taken something from me–something it could never give back.

I stared anyway.

I wasn’t really seeing the night. I was seeing flashes. The road, the headlights, the sickening jolt, the scream that had torn out of me before I even understood what was happening.

I wanted to blame Alexander.

God knew it would have been easier. Easier to aim my grief at him, to tell myself that if he hadn’t hurt me, if he hadn’t let Diana into his life the way he did, if he hadn’t shattered something fragile inside me, I wouldn’t have driven angry. I wouldn’t have been reckless. I wouldn’t have been trying to outrun my own thoughts on a stretch of road that demanded focus and calm.

But the truth was crueler.

The truth was that when it mattered most, my hands had been on the wheel. My foot had been heavy on the accelerator. My mind had been somewhere else… Because I let anger get the best of me.

I had done this.

My breath hitched, but no tears came. I’d cried all of them out hours ago–screamed them out until

my throat felt scraped raw. Now there was only a hollow ache, a grief so dense it felt like it had weight, pressing down on me from the inside.

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind….

There’s a price for everything.

The words crept in uninvited, settling into my thoughts with unsettling clarity.

My pack healer in Silver Hollow had warned me. She’d looked at me with eyes far older than her face, her voice quiet as she told me there would be a price for bringing Alexander back. Life didn’t bend without consequence. Death didn’t release what it claimed without taking something else in return.

And now-

My stomach twisted violently.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe this was the price.

The ultimate balance. The universe correcting itself. A life restored… and another taken to even the scale.

My hand pressed instinctively to my stomach, fingers curling into the fabric of my clothes as a sob finally clawed its way up again, stopping just short of escaping. My child. Innocent, unaware. Gone before I could even hold them properly.

A sharp sound cut through the quiet, suddenly.

A growl.

Low. Powerful. Familiar in a way that made my entire body react before my mind caught up.

My head snapped up.

Another growl followed, closer this time, vibrating through the walls, through the floor, straight into my bones. My heart lurched painfully as recognition hit.

Alexander.

He came.

For a brief, fragile moment, relief washed through me so intensely it almost buckled my knees. He hadn’t abandoned me. He hadn’t ignored Patrick’s word or decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d come for me, just like he always did…. Even though I had refused to speak and confirm that I was with Patrick.

And then the other emotions surged in, tangled and sharp.

I didn’t know if I could look at him without seeing Diana’s face in my mind. Without remembering the way betrayal had settled heavy and cold between us. Without remembering that he didn’t know.

He didn’t know I’d lost the baby.

What would his face look like when he found out?

I didn’t have time to wonder.

Patrick was still breathing heavily, blood dripping from his mouth onto the floor.

And I understood something with chilling clarity.

I hadn’t stopped Alexander because I cared about Patrick.

I’d stopped him because if Alexander kept going, Patrick would die here… Tonight. By Alexander’s hands.

And that wasn’t how this would end.

Patrick was going to die. Of that, I was certain. But not like this. Not now. Not by Alexander.

If my innocent child had been taken as payment for restoring a life Patrick once tried to steal, then balance would be restored properly. Deliberately this time.

Patrick’s life would end by my hand.

The thought didn’t horrify me. It steadied me.

I would do it. And when I did, I would finally rest, knowing my child had been avenged.

Alexander pulled back slightly, his hands still firm on me as if afraid I might collapse. His eyes searched my face desperately, full of questions he didn’t yet know how to ask.

Before he could say anything, he scooped me up into his arms, lifting me with effortless strength.

He didn’t look at Patrick again.

Not once.

As he carried me out of the ruined room, past broken walls and shattered furniture, I stared ahead blankly, my body cradled against his, my mind already far away.

Behind us, Patrick coughed, blood hitting the floor. I guess we’re done,” he shouted.

No, Patrick. We’re not.