Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 119

Chapter 119

Chapter 119

MIA

Without access to Theo, I couldn’t deliver him to the coven. Without delivering him, they’d kill me.

I needed a new plan. Something better than hanging around coffee shops hoping a four–year–old would disobey his father.

I opened my laptop–the one luxury I’d managed to keep when I’d moved to my depressing studio apartment–and pulled up everything I knew about Theo’s routine.

School drop–off: 8:15 AM, always with Matthew or pack security.

School pickup: 3:30 PM, same situation.

Video therapy sessions: Lunch time, inside the school.

After–school activities: None currently. Theo was staying home for the immediate future while he adjusted.

Every access point was blocked. Every opportunity had someone watching.

Unless…

I pulled up the pack’s internal calendar, the one I still had access to because Matthew hadn’t thought to revoke my permissions.

Next week. Pack assembly. Seven PM.

Matthew would be there—he’d sent a pack–wide message announcing his intention to address concerns about his leadership. It was supposed to be this big moment where he owned his failures and committed to doing better.

Which meant Matthew would be occupied. Focused on pack politics rather than his son.

And Theo would be–where? At home with a babysitter? With pack security?

I scrolled through the notes. There–childcare arrangements for pack members attending the assembly. A supervised playroom in the pack house, staffed by two pack members who’d volunteered.

Theo would be there. In a room full of other kids, supervised by pack members who were focused on multiple children at once.

That was my opportunity. My one chance.

I could volunteer to help with childcare. Show up early, establish myself as helpful and remorseful. Then, during the chaos of the assembly—when everyone was focused on Matthew’s speech–I could slip away with Theo.

Just for a few minutes. Just long enough to get him to the coven.

They’d take him, do whatever they needed to do with his bloodline, and then-

And then what?

My hands stilled on the keyboard.

What happened to Theo after the coven got what they wanted? They’d said they needed his bloodline for their magic. Said they’d been planning to take Bianca before she’d supposedly died.

But what did “need his bloodline” actually mean?

I pulled up my encrypted messages with the coven, scrolling back to our initial conversations.

*We need the boy’s blood. His essence. The connection to Elara’s line.*

Chapter 119

+25 Bonus

*How much blood?* I’d asked.

*As much as the ritual requires.*

*Will he be okay after?*

*That’s not your concern. Deliver him and your debt is paid.*

I stared at those words. “Not your concern” didn’t sound like “yes, he’ll be fine.”

It sounded like they were planning to drain a four–year–old of his blood and didn’t care if he survived the process.

My stomach turned.

What was I doing? What had I become that I was even considering this?

I thought about Theo’s face today. The hope in his eyes when he’d seen that photo of Bianca. The fear when I’d held his hand too tight. The way he’d said “I need to go back to class” with such quiet determination.

He was a child. A traumatized, grieving child who’d lost his mother and was trying so hard to be okay.

And I was planning to hand him over to people who would probably kill him.

For what? To save myself? To avoid the consequences of choices I’d made?

My phone buzzed with another message from the blocked number:

*The assembly next week. That’s your opportunity. Don’t waste it.*

They were watching. Knew my movements, my access to pack information, when opportunities would present themselves.

I was trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.

If I delivered Theo, I was complicit in murdering a child.

If I didn’t deliver him, the coven would kill me.

There was no good choice. No way out that didn’t end in someone’s death.

I closed my laptop and pressed my palms against my eyes, trying not to cry in the middle of this coffee shop.

How had it come to this? When had I crossed the line from wanting a better life to being willing to sacrifice a child for survival?

Maybe it had started when I’d manipulated Matthew into believing I was sicker than I was. When I’d used his guilt and fear to position myself as the priority over his own wife.

Or maybe it had started even earlier, when I’d left Matthew years ago for someone with more money, more status, more potential. When I’d proven I was willing to abandon relationships for personal gain.

I’d spent so long believing I deserved Matthew, deserved the life Bianca had, that I’d never stopped to ask what kind of person

that belief made me.

A monster.

That’s what I’d become. A monster who rationalized every terrible choice as necessary, as justified, as just doing what anyone would do to survive.

My phone buzzed again: *Well?*.

I stared at that single word, feeling the weight of impossible choice.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify