<h4>Chapter 172: Charlotte is dead</h4>


    Back at Luminera, the evening had begun to cast a warm glow through therge ss windows, bathing the living room in soft golds and fading oranges.


    Dera sat quietly on a single-seater sofa, her back sinking slightly into the cushions, arms wrapped loosely around the small boy in herp. Dexter was seated on her thighs, straddling her, his little legs dangling off both sides while his small head rested against her chest. His weight was slight, butforting, and she absently ran her fingers through his hair while he mumbled softly, caught somewhere between wakefulness and slumber.


    His voice was quiet, slow, and dreamy as he spoke, "...And all the horses shouted at once. We want food..."


    A faint smile touched Dera’s lips as she looked down at him. His voice was thick with sleep, and she wasn’t even sure if he was still consciously telling the story or if he was simply reciting pieces from a dream.


    "...And the boy brought their food to them..." Dexter continued, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, "...and they ate happily and were never hungry again."


    Dera blinked. Her brows creased slightly as she tried to follow the plot. The story didn’t make much sense to her, but thest line struck her strangely. "They were never hungry again." The words hung in the air like a thread tugging gently at her curiosity. It almost sounded like some sort of divine conclusion, as though the food had been magical, a solution to more than just hunger.


    Before she could probe further into her own thoughts, the soft rise and fall of Dexter’s breathing told her everything she needed to know—he had sumbed to sleep. He had stopped speaking entirely now, and his little body had grown heavier and more limp in her arms.


    Her hand slowed in his hair, then stopped altogether as the door creaked open. Dera turned her head toward the sound, her posture rxing the moment her eyesnded on the man who walked in.


    "You’re back. You took quite some time," she said with a soft smile, her voiceced with relief.


    Williams returned the smile, his features warm but undeniably tired as he stepped into the room. "Yeah... The situation at the pce got even moreplicated than I expected," he replied, making his way toward her.


    Dera arched a brow slightly, the smile on her lips starting to fade. "Howplicated?" she asked. "What happened?"


    "I had to stop Roman from killing Alpha Jorell," Williams exined with a calmness that contrasted the gravity of his words.


    Dera’s face fell further. "How did it get to that point?" Her voice was lower now, more serious.


    Williams exhaled slowly, a breath weighed down with the exhaustion of everything he had witnessed. "Long story, my dear," he murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips.


    Then, shifting his gaze downward, his eyes softened when theynded on the small boy still curled against her chest. "Is he asleep?"


    "Yeah," Dera answered, her smile returning at the mention of her son. "Fell asleep while telling me a story."


    "The storyteller fell asleep before finishing the story?" Williams asked with mock surprise. "Wow."


    Dera let out a quietugh, a soft chuckle that carried a mother’s fond amusement. "He insisted on waiting for you toe back. I guess he couldn’t wait any longer. He only just fell asleep."


    Williams crouched slightly, reaching forward with care. "It’s been a long day, and he’s been very cooperative all through. You did a good job raising him."


    Dera shrugged, her expression humble but tinged with pride. "He can be very stubborn and insistent sometimes."


    Williams gave her a knowing look. "And I wonder where he got that from."


    "You, of course," she replied quickly.


    He raised a brow, shaking his head. "You know that’s not true. I am yet to see anyone as stubborn and insistent as you are." He leaned in again, carefully easing Dexter off herp and into his own arms. "Let me take him to bed."


    As he lifted the boy, Dexter stirred just a little, his small hand shifting against Williams’s chest. His eyes opened halfway, their gaze hazy and barely focused.


    "Daddy... Is that you?" he asked, his voice a quiet murmur.


    "Yes, champ. It’s me. I’m back," Williams answered, adjusting his hold on the boy.


    Dexter let out a tiny sigh. "Okay," he breathed, then went still again, his eyes falling shut once more in sleep’s embrace.


    Williams carried him out of the living area and down the hallway. When he entered the next room, he walked straight to the bed, pulling the covers back beforeying the boy down gently. He took care to tuck the nkets around him just as he had seen Dera do the night before, making sure everything was in ce, secure, and warm. The boy’s face rxed further in sleep, and Williams watched him for a moment longer before turning and stepping out quietly.


    He returned to the living room, his eyes immediately finding Dera still seated on the same chair. Without speaking, he walked to her, took her by the hand, and gently pulled her up to her feet. Then, lowering himself into the seat, he guided her to sit back down—only this time, on hisp. She straddled him the same way their son had done earlier, her arms resting around his neck while his arms circled her waist.


    "You look like you have a lot on your mind," he said, gazing up at her. "Talk to me. What’s on your mind?"


    Dera looked around the living room for a moment before answering. "You have a very beautiful ce."


    He tilted his head. "Is that it?"


    "Part of it," she admitted.


    Williams gave a faint chuckle. "Okay. Thank you. I’m d you like it." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Now, what’s the other part of it?"


    Dera took a small breath. "Your beta. Vanessa."


    He straightened just a little, understanding dawning instantly. "What happened to her?" he asked.


    "You’re aware she has feelings for you, right?" Dera said, her voice calm but serious.


    Williams released a slow sigh, his grip around her waist tightening slightly. "Yes, I am aware. And I have never encouraged her. I have never indulged her or led her on. Everyone here knows my heart belongs to another. The only reason it ever looked unclear was because everyone thought you were dead. Everyone except me, because I would know if you stopped existing. But now that you are here, everything will fall into ce. You have nothing to worry about, okay?"


    "Okay," Dera nodded, her shoulders rxing a little.


    "And one more thing," Williams added, his tone growing firmer. "Everyone here is a werewolf. You are the only human. But that does not mean you should let anybody—I mean anybody—intimidate you."


    Dera chuckled softly, leaning closer. "I lived in Casper’s camp, Williams. I don’t think I can be intimidated that easily by anyone here—except for Roman. I can feel the raw power radiating from him, even when he’s calm. That tells me he’s not someone to mess with."


    Williams smirked. "Nobody in their right senses would try to mess with Roman... except me, of course."


    Dera pulled back slightly, giving him a mock re. "Are you saying you’re not in your right senses?"


    "Who knows?" Williams replied with a grin that made herugh.


    But just as the sound of herughter faded, a sudden breeze swept through the room. Cold and sharp, it brushed against their skin like the whisper of something not quite natural.


    Dera stiffened. "Did you feel that?" she asked, her brows drawing together.


    "Yes," Williams replied, his head turning as he scanned the room. "Where did ite from?"


    Before either of them could answer, a sudden, abrupt sound drew their attention—a soft rattle, but unmistakable in the silence. They both turned their eyes toward the shelf beside them.


    A small box sat there, one that had been perfectly still just moments before. Now, it trembled violently, rattling against the wooden surface with unnatural energy.


    Williams frowned. "Isn’t that the box Charlotte gave to you?" he asked, pointing toward it.


    "It is," Dera confirmed, her voice low and grim. She had ced it there herself while unpacking that very afternoon. "Why is it shaking like that?" She asked, stepping slightly away from the shelf, unease creeping into her voice.


    Williams stared at it, his body tense. His mind raced, pieces of understanding locking into ce. His eyes widened ever so slightly as the realization struck him.


    "Oh shit," he whispered, barely audible. His voice trembled with a weight that chilled the room further. "Charlotte is dead."


    The words hit Dera like a hammer to the chest. Her heart dropped, and her breath caught in her throat.


    For a moment, neither of them moved. The rattling continued, then stopped just as suddenly as it had begun.


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