<h4>Chapter 96: Wolf</h4>


    <strong><i>*~Hazel’s POV~*</i></strong>


    I am a Crescent. And yet... I can’t even walk out of this damned room.


    I’ve tried. Again and again. My body gets as far as the door, my foot raised to step beyond the threshold and then I stopped. Like my soul tugs backward, screaming that leaving would be... wrong. Like I’d be breaking somew I never agreed to.


    I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how far Cyrius has gone with his twistedpulsionns. But I know he’s the one keeping me in here.


    I gave up. Dropping onto the soft, strange bed with a heavy breath, I let the babies settle beside me. Their tiny bodies pressed into my sides like warm, breathing reminders that I wasn’t alone.


    The little girl...my daughter—began ying with my hair, coiling it around her small, chubby fingers. I watched her with quiet awe.


    "Heather," I whispered, saying it again just to taste it on my tongue.


    It didn’t sound bad anymore. It sounded... right. Whole...It fit her.


    I nodded slowly. "Heather," I repeated, and she looked up at me like she knew what I said, like the name stitched itself into her spirit. She giggled softly, sweet and curious.


    Then I looked at her brother. His darkshes fluttered, his lips soft with sleep. He looked too much like Cayden. And gods help me, a little like Cyrius too. But his energy... there was something calmer, something gentler in him. Just like Caspian.


    "Christian," I murmured, poking his cheek.


    He turned his head and saints above smiled.


    "That’s your name," I said, heart swelling. "Christian."


    The boy blinked slowly like he epted it. As if he’d been waiting for me to say it out loud.


    Heather squealed again, grabbing my hand. Christian followed, his tiny fingers curling around mine. I looked down at our intertwined hands..my skin against theirs. My babies.


    For a long moment, I just sat there. Breathing. Feeling. Living. Something I thought I’d never get to do again.


    And then..,The door creaked open.


    <i>Cyrius</i>.


    I tensed, my joy dissolving into cold ash.He stepped inside slowly, eyes sweeping the scene like he owned it. His gaze lingered on the twins. "Ah," he said. "I see they’re getting used to you."


    I didn’t reply.


    He noticed the smile still ghosting on Christian’s lips. "And look at that. The boy is smiling. That’s rare." Then he raised a brow. "You named him?"


    "Christian," I said without hesitation.


    He tasted the name slowly, repeating it once. "Christian. Hmm. Sounds like Caspian."


    I looked up sharply, ring now. "I hope," Cyrius continued, "you’re not hoping he turns out like that goddamn backstabber."


    I didn’t even think. My voiceshed out like a whip. "Caspian is more of a man than you will ever be."


    Cyrius paused...His smile didn’t fade, but something in his eyes darkened.


    "Careful, darling," he said, voice low and dangerous. "I canpel you never to raise your voice at me again. Never to say no to anything I want."


    He walked closer, and I didn’t move.


    His fingers reached out, barely grazing the skin of my neck, trailing slowly across my corbone. The heat between us surged—burning, wild. I didn’t know if it was hatred, anger, or something deeper, something older. But it burned.


    My body stiffened.


    I wasn’t sure if I wanted to strike him... or cry.


    "You don’t own me," I said, voice trembling, low, but firm.


    He smirked. "Don’t I?"


    Christian whimpered beside me, sensing the tension. Heather pulled herself tighter into my side.


    And that was when something snapped.


    No. No more fear.


    I wrapped my arms around both babies and stood.


    "I don’t care what youpel. I don’t care what magic you twist. These babies are mine. Not yours. And if you ever touch me like that again..."


    My eyes locked on his."...I will show you what a real Crescent can do."


    "I’ll love to see that..." he said his hands still trailing me.


    I closed my eyes, trying to suppress the heat crawling up my spine from his touch. His fingers trailed from behind my ear, brushing gently down to the curve of my neck. Every cell in my body screamed to push him away—but instead, I froze. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped.


    "I brought dinner," he said with an eerie calm. "Hunted down a deer. Perhaps you can cook it for us, darling wife."


    "I’m not your wife," I snapped. "And I’m not doing a damn thing."


    He raised a brow, unbothered. "Then fine. Starve your babies to death. You need food in your body to feed them. Or have you forgotten how nature works?"


    I scoffed as he dragged the limp carcass inside. The stench of blood hit before the sight did, and Heather—my precious girl—let out a frightened cry. I covered her eyes instantly, shielding her from the grotesque disy.


    "So much for being a good guardian," I spat, venom in my voice.


    He smirked like I’d told a joke. "Will you cry over a deer now? Or shall we all starve?"


    Ignoring him, I turned away and began rocking Heather back to sleep, my arms swaying in rhythm while Christian curled into my side. Once they were both settled, I stood up slowly.


    "I’ll need a knife."


    "No knives here," he said, stacking firewood like a farmer proud of his harvest. "You’ll have to use your ws. Aren’t you a Crescent?"


    I swallowed, annoyed by how easily the word left his lips.


    "Yes, I am," I muttered.


    But I’ve never shifted. I don’t even know if I have a wolf. All I can do is... draw spells.


    He chuckled darkly. "Wait...don’t tell me you haven’t essed your wolf at all?"


    "I just found out I’m a Crescent days ago. You don’t expect me to be an expert."


    He shrugged and walked toward me with maddening ease. "Thank the goddess you have me, then. I’ll teach you."


    He stood behind me, too close, his presence overwhelming. His fingers slipped around mine, his touch deliberate, like he was sculpting fire into my veins.


    "Force it out," he whispered. "It’s already in you—just hidden. Let it surface."


    His other hand slid onto my waist, and my stomach clenched—not in fear, but heat. No. No, no, no. I tried to fight it, to push him away, but my body betrayed me. <i>Was hepelling me again?</i>


    His hand trailed slowly up my back. My eyes fluttered shut from the intensity. The heat, the pull, the wrongness of it all wrapped around me like a silk noose.


    Then, his lips brushed my ear. "Open your eyes, wife."


    I did—and gasped.


    <strong><i>My ws were out.</i></strong>


    "You see?" he said, the smirk audible in his voice. "Not so hard."


    Why the hell am I reacting like this? Gods, where are they...Cayden, Caspian, Aurora? They must be looking for me by now. And thank the moon, we’re still in New Orleans. If I can just leave hints..subtle, invisible to him, but strong enough for them to trace...


    But how? I can’t leave, not while thispulsion still binds me like chains beneath my skin.


    "Chop chop," he called from the fire pit. "The deer won’t cut itself."


    I turned slowly, ws gleaming faintly, and began working on the deer with hands that trembled—not from weakness, but from a brain already ten steps ahead.


    I needed to leave signs.


    Blood, w marks, ashes, objects misced...anything that could call to them, that might lead them to me.