Phoebe’s POV
"Phoebe, my job is to ensure your survival. He cares about nothing else except you. You’re the one person he wants to shield above all others. Please, you must value yourself. I can’t fathom what would become of the king if he lost you."
Marcela begged me, her voice breaking as she noticed the doubt flickering in my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The thought of ending my baby’s life—because that’s exactly what this would be—tore at my soul.
Even knowing that neither of us would make it if I continued this pregnancy didn’t ease the agony.
There was no avoiding this outcome.
I understood what had to happen, what choice made sense, but my thoughts spun wildly through endless scenarios. The torment of wondering ’what if’ consumed me completely.
’Just go...’ I whispered. I needed space to think this through.
"Phoebe..." Marcela’s fingers pressed mine before she placed the glass on the bedside table. "I’ll leave this here. Take it when you’re prepared, alright?"
She walked away then. One final glance passed between us before the door clicked shut and I was alone. Her heart must have been breaking too—this couldn’t be simple for her either.
What made it worse was how she’d given me hope, which only deepened my suffering.
——
"How’s the queen doing?" Wade intercepted Marcela as she emerged. He remained clueless about the real situation—only knew that the queen felt unwell and they’d summoned Marcela, but no one had shared the details.
"She’s managing." Marcela drew a shaky breath. "She’ll pull through. Want to help me fix something in the kitchen? She’s barely eating anything."
Wade nodded and joined Marcela to prepare lunch.
——
Phoebe’s POV
I dried my tears, though my eyes stayed swollen and red. That cursed glass sat there, mocking me, and I turned away like it was something obscene.
Eventually, I decided to visit the garden. The glass remained untouched—I wouldn’t even look at it, as if acknowledging it would be sacrilege.
But I wasn’t fooling myself. I knew I’d drink it eventually.
For now, though, I wanted to walk and connect with my baby. It sounded insane—beyond the nausea, there was no way to actually feel the tiny life inside me. My body showed no changes yet.
None of that mattered. I craved these precious moments with my child, refusing to overthink it, knowing our time was running out.
Justin spotted me and trailed behind at a distance. Marcela had given him strict orders not to disturb me, to let me be.
The warrior didn’t grasp her meaning, but he’d agreed anyway.
——
"What’s the matter?" Reginald could tell something had shifted with Fiona. She was... distant. He couldn’t name it exactly, but something felt off.
"It’s nothing," Fiona answered casually as they prepared for their journey to the Valerium kingdom’s palace.
The trip would span five days by vehicle.
Given their large numbers, Alpha Murphy had decided to transport them in the back of a massive wagon.
This infuriated the Crimson Fang pack warriors—they felt like livestock heading to slaughter. Another insult to endure.
But Fiona, Reginald, and Alpha Sterling would travel by car.
"No, something’s definitely wrong." Reginald caught her hand and spun her around, searching her eyes deeply. His instincts were correct.
Her gaze had changed. The way she looked at him... it wasn’t the same.
Reginald framed her face and kissed her forehead, but Fiona showed no shyness at all. "What is it? Talk to me."
"Nothing." Fiona repeated her answer and gently pushed him back. "We should leave now."

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