Then, just like that, he straightened, shuttering the intensity in his expression as if it had never existed, and turned sharply on his heel. Sera's chest constricted in frustration — the maddening, inexplicable urge to follow him thrummed beneath her skin.
Eric lingered in the hallway, just beyond the door, leaning lightly against the frame.
He'd intended to interrogate her, maybe intimidate her, assert the dominance expected of him. But the moment he saw her — half-buried in the soft sheets, a lock of hair clinging to her cheek, a faint whimper escaping her parted lips — every trace of anger, every plan to dominate, evaporated.
Instead, he had found himself watching. She was fragile.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his back against the wall, trying to tamp down the heat that rose in his chest. Control, Eric. You need control.
Benedict had arrived shortly after, escorting Mrs. Hart. She moved slowly, a faint wince in her step. Eric descended the stairs, his tall frame cutting a commanding figure, and as he entered the living room, his sharp silver-edged eyes found her immediately. Mrs. Hart's face brightened in relief and maternal warmth.
"Oh, my boy," she breathed, limping forward. e felt a rush of conflicting emotions — guilt, frustration.
"You truly did have an accident," he said. His gaze swept her carefully, noting every twitch of discomfort, every small movement she tried to mask with poise.
"It's just minor," she said, brushing off the concern.
"Why didn't you ever tell me you had a daughter?"
"Honey, it never came up," she said softly. "And I thought you knew." Her gaze lingered on him, dark eyes thoughtful, filled with the memory of a past carefully hidden.
"It's good to see you. I asked Benedict to bring you."
"I shouldn't have sent her here," she admitted. "I have never let her out of my sight since she was born. But Eric… she cannot stay here. She… she is delicate."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hart. I would do anything for you, you know that," he said. "But I cannot let her leave. She may be carrying my child, and that child cannot live."
"Eric…" she began softly.
He raked a hand through his hair, his broad shoulders coiled tight. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. As soon as I'm sure, I'll send her back to you. Maybe this will serve as a lesson to my mum — to stop interfering in my life." His eyes flicked back to his mum.
Mrs. Hart's lips thinned into a knowing smile. "You also need to understand your mother, Eric," she said gently. "We both know the pressure she's under from the Werewolf Council. You are her only son. The last living heir of the Blackwood bloodline. The one who was supposed to take over as alpha but shut out his wolf."
"Then the Werewolf Council should find a solution to my madness!" he snapped.
Mrs. Hart reached out her hand and placed it gently against his chest.
"My boy…" she whispered, her eyes glistening. "How I wish I could take your pain away." She smiled faintly, a sad, knowing curve of lips that carried decades of affection. Her thumb brushed against the fabric near his heart, and the tension in him faltered. "You've carried too much for one soul. Even beasts have a limit."
He looked away, jaw tight, unable to hold her gaze.
Mrs. Hart had been there through his childhood, before the darkness came. She had been his nurse. But she had left the very night his father died.
When his father died, the ancient curse had leapt from one generation to the next.
Ten years later, he became the new shadow wolf.
*****
Sera stood by the window, fingers pressed against the cold glass, her eyes tracing the distant hills beyond the Blackwood estate. When the door creaked open, Sera turned sharply. Her mother despite her limp, worry shadowing her kind face — stepped inside. The moment Sera saw her, all composure shattered.
She ran forward, colliding into her mother's arms with a sob that tore through her chest.
"Mum, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she cried.
Bri held her tightly, stroking her hair. "Hey, you have done nothing wrong. It wasn't your fault," she murmured. "Calm down, honey. I need you to listen to me." She guided Sera toward the edge of the bed.
"Mum, you're scaring me. Shouldn't we be leaving?"
Bri hesitated, brushing her thumb against Sera's cheek. "Not yet, sweetie. Once they confirm you aren't—"
"Pregnant," Sera cut in. "But Mum, how can I be when he didn't do anything?"
Bri blinked, startled. "What? I don't understand."
"I knocked him out. But he doesn't believe me. Isn't there some kind of test they can do? When someone hasn't been touched?" She turned away, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Bri exhaled slowly, understanding dawning on her face. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, that changes everything. Up until now, myself and Mrs. Blackwood were operating under the assumption that something did happen."
"Well, it didn't," Sera said firmly. "I just want to come home." She sighed, pressing her forehead into her mother's shoulder.
"Of course, sweetie. Of course." Bri kissed the crown of her head. "I'll inform Eric."
Sera blinked at her mother in surprise. "You know him?" she asked.
Bri smiled faintly. "Yes, sweetheart. I was his nurse when he was a child. I stopped after I had you."
Sera snorted, arms folded tightly across her chest. "No wonder he turned out to be an asshole. He didn't have you to raise him."
Bri gasped, smacking her daughter's knee lightly. "Hey, language!" she said. "You might want to keep that sharp tongue in check before he decides to throw you into the dungeon."
Sera grinned, just a little.
"Now, I'm sure he'll bring someone to examine you soon. There's no need to be afraid. The Blackwoods are good people at heart."
Sera arched a brow.
"Its true. Listen to me carefully. Benedict will be responsible for your meals and drinks while you're here. Take whatever he gives you, do you understand me? Don't throw anything out. Trust him."