Chapter 22 - Hannah
Absentmindedly rubbing the spot that had been pricked earlier on my forearm, I wave at Clarissa as she hops onto another swing.
The one she just left still rocks from the momentum she was using to push herself back and forth, but Clarissa is on a mission to try out all the things the park has to offer.
I giggle through the dull ache in my arm; a reminder that, despite the calm the city offers, there is still a threat out there that has to be dealt with.
It’s why the research team has been drawing blood from the hybrids. They plan on using it once they’ve developed a simulation of the demon portal to test how the portal reacts to hybrids.
They started with the blood samples of the lunas. Tomorrow, it will be Clarissa, Nico, and Marco—Sophie and Damian’s baby, who was born three days ago.
It’s only been a week since the relocation, and in some ways, the city is growing on me. In other ways, I miss the valley—like the picturesque views at sunset, and the smell of pine and earth that greets you when you wake up in the morning.
But then there’s the question of our safety in the valley, and how volatile things are with the demons still a threat, and the head demon locked away beneath the southern ruins.
None of us feels safe in the valley when we’re being targeted because of our link to the Ashclaw Pack, and for the powers the demons need to harvest for their portal.
It’s a good thing we’ve been using Amalia’s masking potion to stay under the radar. And for now, things are quiet, but I can’t help but worry about Clarissa.
She’s a hybrid child, part witch and part wolf, which means she’ll gain the ability to shift into wolf form by the time she’s ten. She has just over two years left before that happens, since she’ll be turning eight next month.
I gulp hard, then feel a hand on my shoulder, warmth sprouting from welcome fingertips.
“Hey, is everything alright?” Conan asks as he finds a seat beside me on the bench, and I notice the Band-Aid on his arm. He’d also offered to give blood samples that would be used to identify the differences between ordinary wolves and hybrids.
The witches from the August Moon coven are giving samples, too.
“Yeah, everything is fine,” I sigh as I let myself bask in the safety of Conan’s presence, even going as far as leaning my head on his shoulder when he slides his arm around me.
“I know there’s something on your mind,” he says, watching Clarissa hop another swing. “You can talk to me.”
My lips curve in a half-smile, and I pause for a second, appreciating Clarissa’s excitement when she discovers a ladybug on a leaf. The little bug crawls onto her finger, and her eyes light up in wonder.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen her so happy, and I can’t imagine how stressful things will become for her when her wolf emerges early.
“We don’t have much time left,” I whisper, a lump forming in my throat. “Two years, and then her wolf will emerge.”
Conan nods slowly, taking my hand. “We will face that together, Hannah.” He turns to face me, reaching out and tucking my hair behind my ear. “I promise that I will always be there to protect you and Clarissa.” He leans in, and my heart skips a beat.
“Hannah, I never stopped—”
Conan stops short, eyes flicking to the side, and as the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle, he turns his face toward the park, his fists curling at his sides.
“What is it, Conan?” I ask as the faint smell of sulfur carries through the wind. I gasp and snap my head in Clarissa’s direction, calling out to her. “Clarissa! Come here!”
She wastes no time as she runs toward us, safely in my arms as Conan scans the park through narrowed eyes.
“There!”
The smell of sulfur intensifies. It slithers through the air like a poisonous serpent, winding itself between the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers until it settles heavily in my lungs.
My heart immediately begins to race.
Not here. Not in Hamilton. Not after a week of peace.
Clarissa clings to my hand as Conan slowly rises from the bench, every muscle in his body tensing beneath his shirt. His eyes narrow toward the opposite side of the park, where families wander between pathways and children chase one another across the grass.
At first, I don’t see what he’s looking at. Then, a woman steps between two oak trees, and my heart lurches. Something about her feels wrong.
It’s not her appearance. She looks ordinary enough. Dark coat. Dark hair. Human.
But the moment her gaze lifts and collides with Conan’s, an icy chill rushes down my spine.
She smiles. But it’s no ordinary smile—it’s sinister in a suspicious way.
She turns and walks away, disappearing between the trees, and Conan’s jaw tightens.
“I’ll be right back.” The words leave his mouth so casually that anyone else might believe them.
I don’t.
The mate bond hums with warning.
“Conan…” I warn, grabbing his wrist just as he’s about to walk away.
He looks at me immediately, the concern in his eyes softening his expression.
“You feel it, too, don’t you? There’s something suspicious about that woman.”
I gulp hard. “I don’t like this, Conan. What if…” my voice tapers off when I’m unable to vocalize my concerns.
But Clarissa is standing beside me, and the park is filled with humans.
The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.
“Be careful,” I whisper, knowing Conan won’t leave this when that woman was acting too strange for both our liking.
Conan leans down and presses a kiss against my forehead. The gesture is brief. Tender. Enough to make warmth bloom inside my chest despite the unease clawing at me. I stifle my protests as he smiles at Clarissa.
“I’ll be right back, kiddo. Stay here with your mom.”
She nods, and Conan walks off in the direction the woman disappeared. I watch him disappear between the trees, my heart pounding, unease filling my gut. And suddenly, the park feels too large.
Too crowded.
Too exposed.
For a while, I try to distract myself by asking my daughter what she thinks about the park. But my attention keeps drifting toward the direction Conan disappeared.
About five minutes have passed, and it’s too long. The knot in my stomach tightens, and I can’t take it any longer. Conan should have been back by now. He should have checked and come back already.
“Mommy?”
I blink, only to find that Clarissa is staring up at me.
“You look worried.”
I force a smile onto my face. “I’m fine, Bug.” But even as I say the words, the mate bond pulls sharply out of nowhere.
Pain.
My breath catches when a pulse of agony crashes through the bond so suddenly that I nearly stumble.
Fear follows right before there’s nothing.
Silence.
Complete silence.
My blood turns to ice.
“Clarissa….” The tremor in my voice immediately gets her attention as I stand up from the bench. “Stay close to me, okay?”
Her eyes widen. “Mommy?”
I grab her hand, the bond still silent as we make our way toward the two oak trees.
Something is wrong.
Something is terribly wrong.
I follow the direction Conan went in, keeping Clarissa close and moving quickly through the park. My pulse pounds harder with every step. The pathways ahead grow emptier, and the sounds of the park begin to fade.
Soon, we’re standing at the mouth of a narrow alleyway tucked between two buildings, following the breadcrumb trail of his faint scent, masked by the potion. It’s the mate bond that somehow leads me to him. And that’s when I see him.
My world stops; my entire body goes numb.
Conan is on his knees, blood staining the front of his shirt. His head hangs forward, his breathing shallow. Weak.
For one horrifying second, I think he’s dead.
A strangled sound tears from my throat. “N-no!”
Clarissa gasps beside me. “Daddy!”
The woman from five minutes ago turns, her smile as cold and sinister as it was when we caught sight of her. Sharp blue eyes stare at me cruelly.
And the moment I meet those eyes, I know exactly what she is.
A witch.
Dark, corrupted magic coils around her body like smoke.
“You found us quicker than I expected,” she says, her voice laced with bitterness and amusement.
I move Clarissa behind me instinctively, every protective instinct I possess roaring to life.
“What did you do to him?!” I growl, and the witch only shrugs.
“Nothing permanent,” she says nonchalantly.
My gaze flickers back to Conan, and I see the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
His chest barely rises, and rage fills every corner of my being. It’s dark. Violent. Dangerous.
The witch seems to notice. I see satisfaction flash across her face as she stretches out a hand.
“Give me the child.”
My stomach twists, and my brows pull into a frown. “No.”
Her smile widens as she turns back to Conan. “Then your mate dies.”
The world narrows when I hear those words, and everything around me disappears. The buildings. The city. The traffic. The alley.
All I can see is Conan. Broken. Bleeding. Dying...
And Clarissa trembling behind me.
“No.” This time, my voice is stronger as I straighten my shoulders and tilt my chin with defiance. “I will never give you my child.”
The witch sighs dramatically. “That’s too bad,” she drawls, and she points a palm at me, and dark magic explodes toward me.
I shove Clarissa behind a dumpster just as the foul magic slams into the pavement where she’d been standing moments earlier.
Concrete erupts in dust particles that fill the air.
The witch attacks again, this time her dark magic pointed at me. I dodge every attack, but they come so fast, so strong, and it takes every ounce of determination to stay focused. I remember every bit of training Conan and I practiced as the alley turned into a battlefield.
Fire bursts from my palms, wind screaming around me as I push against the dark witch’s attacks. The air itself seems to tremble beneath the force of our power colliding.
The witch is strong.
Stronger than any witch I’ve faced before. Stronger than my sisters in the August Moon Circle, whom I’d spar with occasionally when training.
But the dark witch isn’t fighting for someone she loves. She isn’t fighting to protect her child. And she isn’t fighting for her mate.
I am.
Every dark spell she murmurs and all the black torrents of smoke she throws only fuel the fury building inside me. Every glance toward Conan’s motionless body makes my power surge harder. Hotter. Brighter. Until the fire I wield changes.
The flames surrounding my hands become white-gold, pure and blinding, drawing from deep within my being, as ancient as my ancestors.
The witch’s eyes widen, fear finally appearing on her face.
“What are you—”
I don’t let her finish. Fire and wind erupt from me in a devastating wave, the mate bond, my desperation, amplifying the powers I already wielded. It feeds my magic in a way that makes me feel more powerful than ever, unstoppable. A force that nothing can stop. Not even dark magic.
The alley becomes an inferno as I push all my power forward,
The witch screams, her magic shattering. Her body crashes into the brick wall behind her with enough force to crack the stone. Silence falls as the woman collapses, lying in a motionless heap on the ground, smoke curling from her body and dissipating.
I glare at her, breathing hard, the fire still burning beneath my skin, urging me to finish it. To kill her. To make sure she never threatens Clarissa or hurts Conan again. It’s a deep-seated need that doesn’t even scare me, and my hands tremble. But it’s because the power wants blood.
Justice.
Vengeance.
Then I hear a small, timid voice behind me.
“Mommy?”
Clarissa’s voice shatters whatever darkness is trying to consume me, and I’m snapped out of my appetite for blood, the rage receding, the flames in my palms dying instantly.
That’s when reality sets in, and suddenly, all I can think about is Conan.
I rush to him, dropping to my knees as I gather his face in my hands.
“Conan!” I cry out, but there’s no response.
Terror claws at my chest as he becomes limp in my hands, his head falling to my lap, eyelids closed now.
“No. No, no, no….” Tears blur my vision, and my hands begin to glow around his face.
I gasp as a sudden burst of healing magic spills from my palms, brought on by my desperation and panic, which fuel every ounce of power I possess.
I don’t care if it drains me of everything I have.
I can’t lose him.
Not after everything. Not after finally finding our way back to each other.
Golden light spreads beneath my fingertips, magic pouring from me into his very pores. The wounds begin to close around the bloodstains, and soon, the blood disappears.
Air fills his lungs again, his breathing strengthening, but I keep going because I’m terrified. Terrified that if I stop, he’ll disappear. Just like he disappeared eight years ago.
“P-please,” I whisper brokenly. “Please come back to me.” Tears slide down my cheeks. “I can’t lose you.” My voice cracks. “I can’t, Conan. Please! I love you, dammit! I love you!”
The confession spills out before I can stop it.
“I love you, Conan.”
The words shatter something inside me, because they’re true.
I’ve loved him through the anger. Through what I thought was his betrayal, through the lies. Through every year we spent apart.
I’ve loved him through all of it.
And now, I know I always will.
A shaky breath leaves his chest, and my heart stops. So does my magic as his eyes flutter open.
Relief crashes into me so violently that I nearly collapse.
“Hannah...”
The sound of my name on his lips breaks me completely. A sob escapes my throat as I pull him into my arms, holding him tightly like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.
And for the first time since all of this began, I allow myself to admit the truth.
I don’t just need Conan.
I don’t just trust him.
I love him. Not just because he is my fated mate, or because he’s Clarissa’s father, but because he is, and always has been, the most important person in my life.