Chapter 15 Mai
Chapter fifteen
Mai
The room still smelled of blood and magic. The sound of our babies sleeping cut through it—beautiful sounds that made my wolf shiver with fierce joy.
My daughter was against my chest, her tiny body radiating impossible heat. My son lay in Ryan’s arms, his dark head barely visible in the cocoon of blankets Wally had thrown together. Ryan looked undone, his huge hands trembling as if he were holding the universe itself.And maybe he was.
I was exhausted, every muscle in my body aching, but I’d never felt more alive. More complete.
“They’re perfect,” I whispered, pressing my lips to my daughter’s soft head.
Ryan’s voice was rough when he answered. “Just like their mom.”
Esme was humming softly, her magic still sparkling faintly around the room like fairy lights. Everything felt peaceful. Safe.
Then the air shifted.
Not dramatically—more like the moment before a storm, when the pressure drops and your skin prickles with awareness. My wolf went instantly alert, hackles rising.
My daughter stirred against my chest, her tiny face scrunching. My son’s eyes opened, both babies focusing on the same spot near the window.
Weird.
A shadow detached itself from the corner of the room, deepening and taking shape. A woman, breathtakingly beautiful, with long golden hair and flawless features. Her smile was too perfect, too playful, the kind that promised knives beneath the velvet. I knew who she was instantly.
The Dark Goddess.
Here. In our bedroom.
“Well,” she said. “That was quite the entrance you made into this world, little ones.”
A freaking Goddess was in my bedroom.
Ryan tensed beside me. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to meet my newest devotees, of course. The children you promised to dedicate to me.” Her eyes lingered on the babies. “And to see the results of today’s little… test.”
“Test?” Ryan’s voice was a growl.
“Oh yes. You didn’t think all this was entirely coincidental, did you? Four centuries of desperation makes for excellent motivation. They served their purpose beautifully.”
Ice ran down my spine. “You orchestrated this. You made them come here.”
I knew about Ryan’s deal. I knew how tricky Goddesses were—how perilous it was to make any deal with them. They liked to play games, but her games had put our pups in danger.
“Mmmm,” she murmured. “Did your mate tell you about our little deal?” The Dark Goddess’s gaze flicked over Ryan like a caress, amused. “He came willingly, did you know that? Strong men often do, when they’re desperate enough.”
Ryan growled low. “I’d do it again. For Mai.”
The Dark Goddess barked a laugh. “Oh, he’s stubborn.
” She looked at me and smiled. “You picked well. As for the Forgotten Pack, I simply laid breadcrumbs of knowledge. What they did with that was up to them. In the same way, whether you proved worthy parents was entirely up to you.” She looked between us, and for a moment, her expression was almost approving.
“You exceeded expectations. And it was a most entertaining display.”
Gremlin jumped onto the windowsill and sat there, tail twitching, staring at the Dark Goddess.
“Fuck entertaining,” I snarled. “You put our children in harm’s way.”
Her smile didn’t slip; her voice went silk-thin. “As is my right. I am your Goddess. Do try to remember that—before I lift a hand and unmake you, Mai Parker.”
The Dark Goddess glanced at Gremlin and then did a double-take. Her perfect composure flickered with irritation.
“What,” she said, voice sharp, “is that doing here?”
Gremlin tilted her head, fixing the Goddess with an unblinking stare. Then, with deliberate slowness, she began grooming her paw.
One of the Dark Goddess’s eyes twitched.
“She’s a cat. Our cat.”
“The audacity,” the Dark Goddess muttered, ignoring me. “To send her emissary here. To my children.”
“My children,” Ryan growled. “Mine and Mai’s. Not yours.”
“Yes, yes,” the Goddess waved a hand dismissively at Ryan. “Born of you and your mate. But in every other sense, mine. They will worship me, they will follow me; I have plans, grand plans for them. And all this, you agreed to.”
Oh, hell no. There was no fucking way I was letting our kids be her playthings.
Gremlin hissed softly, and the Goddess swung her attention back to our cat. “She always did prefer the subtle approach. Not brave enough to show her face, eh? Well, she can’t have either of them. These twins are mine. You go back and tell her that!”
“You can’t mean the Moon Goddess?” I shot an alarmed look at Ryan, who was watching Gremlin carefully.
“Of course I mean the Moon Goddess. Your children are pivotal to what is coming. Everyone will try to sway them to their side. Go on…” She flicked her fingers at Gremlin. “Shoo!”
Gremlin was an emissary of the Moon Goddess? Gremlin… our cat? Just what the hell was she talking about?
Gremlin ignored her, jumping onto the bed at my feet.
Rage flooded the Goddess’s face, and the shadows in the room responded.
They didn’t just darken—they writhed, reaching toward us like grasping fingers.
The temperature plummeted, my breath coming out in visible puffs as the shadows pressed closer, heavier, until I felt like I was drowning in them.
The very air seemed to thicken, pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I tightened my grip on our daughter as Ryan turned, shielding our son.
But then our son gave a soft, startled cry.
Instantly, the shadows recoiled as if burned, snapping back to their normal places so fast it made my head spin. The temperature returned to normal, the oppressive weight lifting from the room.
The Dark Goddess straightened, smoothing her expression back into something more controlled as she brought her attention to me. “Well?”
Holy fuck.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Derek and Jem moving almost imperceptibly closer. Both of them flanked the Goddess, coiled and ready.
Sofia’s breathing had changed; deeper and more controlled. Behind her, Thomas had drawn himself up to his full, imposing height.
Even Wally had gone still, his usual fidgeting replaced by a focused alertness I’d rarely seen.
Esme was staring directly at the Goddess, her gaze tightly focused, the way a predator homes in on its prey before it attacks.
They were all waiting. Waiting for me to give them some sign, some nod, and they would throw themselves at a Goddess.
They would die for us. For our children. Without hesitation.
The understanding settled cold and heavy in my chest. These people—my Pack, my family—they would fight the Dark Goddess herself if I asked them to. And they would lose. Horribly.But they would do it anyway.
I couldn’t let that happen. Whatever this was, whatever the Dark Goddess wanted, we’d find another way to get out of the deal.
I wouldn’t watch my Pack die for a fight they couldn’t win.I took a careful breath and let my shoulders relax slightly—a signal I hoped they’d read correctly.
Derek’s stance eased a fraction. Sofia’s breathing returned to normal.
I didn’t know if the Goddess knew how close we’d come to attacking.
“Well?” she repeated. “I don’t have all day.”
“Well what?” I said, not sure what she was asking.
“The Forgotten Pack. What do you want to do with them?” She flicked her hand, and four bodies materialized on our bedroom floor with heavy thuds.
Glenn, Sian, Jonas, and Vera landed in a heap, bound hand and foot with what looked like Esme’s vine rope.
Vera had a gag stuffed in her mouth, her eyes wild above the cloth.
All four were battered and bloodied, their clothes torn, faces swollen.
They looked as startled as we did at their arrival.
The Dark Goddess cocked her hip to one side.
“They put your lives in danger. They put your babies’ lives in danger.
So, I will grant this boon. I will end their curse today.
But you choose their fate. Death—quick, clean, final.
Or let them live as normal wolves again: aging, dying, mating, and pups of their own. ”
I looked at the four beings who had tried to steal my children on the day of their birth. They’d lived for four centuries, cursed and desperate, making terrible choices that hurt innocent people. They’d tried to take our pups from us. I wanted them dead for that.
“What happened to the real Thornwick Pack?”
The Goddess arched an eyebrow. “Most died. But not by their hands. They simply found the survivors, left them under guard, and took their story.”
I didn’t know why it mattered that it hadn’t been them, but an HFD raid that had killed the Thornwick Pack—but it did.
I thought of my babies’ cries, still ringing in my ears.
Of blood smeared across the floorboards.
Of all the lives lost in Three Rivers already.
But today was about new life, new beginnings.
Not death. I couldn’t mark the birth of our twins with the death of another Pack.
“Let them live normal lives, age normally, find mates if they can, and finally die when it is their time.”
Glenn and Sian stared at me in shock. Jonas looked blank, no emotion crossing his face at all, while Vera just looked confused.
“But,” I continued, my voice hardening, “they will leave Three Rivers and never return. If any of them ever come near my children or my Pack again, we will hunt them down and finish what we started today.”
Ryan’s voice was low, final. “And I’ll be first in line.”
The Dark Goddess studied me for a long moment, something that might have been approval flickering across her perfect features.
“Mercy over vengeance. Admirable, if rather foolish. Perhaps there’s more to you than I initially thought.” She inclined her head. “Very well then. So it shall be.”
Golden light poured over the Forgotten Pack.
Their edges shimmered, blurred, until they gasped like drowning men finally tasting air.
Vera sobbed, clutching her chest. Sian groaned, her face slack with relief.
Whatever had just happened, I guessed their curse was lifted.
With another flick of her hand, all four vanished from the room.
“And now, their names.”
Ryan frowned. “Names?”
“The names.” The Goddess sounded exasperated, as if talking to someone incredibly slow. “The pups. What are they called?”
My daughter made a soft sound against my chest, and I looked down at her perfect little face. My precious girl.
Ryan glanced at me.
“Enough delays.” The Dark Goddess folded her arms. “I do have other places to be.”
The air held still for the space of one breath—the copper tang of blood giving way to warm milk and pine.
“Victoria,” I said softly. “Her name is Victoria. For victory. For survival. For the future she deserves.”
Ryan’s voice followed, rough with emotion. “And Oakley. For the strength of roots and branches. For the tree that bends but does not break.”
The Dark Goddess stepped closer. Gremlin rumbled deep in her chest, but the Goddess kept coming. “If the Moon insists on balance, then I must complete my side of the bargain.”
As she reached out, the room grew warm—the faint scent of heated stone and resin curling under the lingering iron of blood. Oakley’s lashes fluttered; she brushed her fingertips across my son’s forehead. Where she touched, a thin thread of gold lingered, then sank into his skin.
“Strength and cunning, little one. Use them wisely.”
Gremlin padded over to us and, without ceremony, placed one small paw on my daughter’s blanket.
Heat bloomed beneath my palms, the weave of the blanket rasping my fingertips.
I caught the clean scent of rain and crushed mint, and somewhere inside the house, a distant chime seemed to answer.
Silver light thinned across my baby girl’s face, lifting goosebumps along my arms, then disappeared.
The Dark Goddess watched this with obvious irritation. “Show-off,” she muttered.
The shadows behind her deepened, no longer content to cling to walls and corners. They flowed toward her like living things, embracing her until her golden hair and perfect features dissolved into the darkness.
When the last tendril of shadow settled back into place, the room felt lighter, emptier—but her words hung in the air like a promise: “Guard them well. I will see you all soon.”
I clutched Victoria tighter as Oakley yawned, a cute little sigh I would never get tired of hearing.
Two goddesses, two claims. What would that mean for my children when they grew?
My wolf bristled at it, sensing the pull of something vast and dangerous.
Would it mean balance, or a tug-of-war neither of them asked for?
The room fell into sudden, profound quiet.
Thomas let out a long breath. Wally sank into a chair.
Jem glanced between me and Esme, thoughtful and worried.
Ryan met my eyes, and I saw my own mix of exhaustion, relief, and lingering doubt reflected there.
What had we just survived? He smiled at me, and whatever it was—whatever we faced—we would do it as Pack.