Chapter Sixty-Two: A Silent Goodbye
The beeping of the monitors had become a cruel reminder of time slipping away. Each beep signified a heartbeat, each pause between them stretching longer, each ragged breath from Lily growing shallower.
Charlie sat unmoving, her fingers gently wrapped around the child’s frail, clammy hand. The fever had left her burning hot to the touch, yet her tiny fingers had no strength left in them. Her skin was paper-thin, fragile like autumn leaves that would crumble under too much pressure.
Charlie swallowed back the lump in her throat and forced a smile. Lily needed her to be strong.
She reached out with her free hand, brushing damp strands of hair from the girl’s face, her fingertips barely ghosting over her fragile skin. “Did I ever tell you about the wildflowers that grow just beyond the packhouse?” she asked, her voice soft, as though she were afraid speaking too loudly would steal away what little time they had left.
Lily barely stirred, but Charlie kept talking.
“In the spring, the entire field turns golden with them. It looks like the sun has touched the earth, making everything shine. You’d love it.”
A weak sound escaped the little girl’s lips—perhaps a sigh, maybe an attempt at a response. Charlie pretended it was the latter.
She had been here for hours, sitting beside Lily, keeping her company, trying to make the fear in those young, fevered eyes go away.
People came and went from the window, pressing their hands against the glass as they peered inside. At first, people had come to the window to stare. Some whispered, some looked at her as if she were insane for willingly sitting so close to someone infected with the disease.
But she had noticed something shifting in the way they looked at her.
The pack who had once sneered at her, who had seen her as nothing more than an Omega unworthy of their respect, now stood outside with expressions of something closer to awe.
It unsettled her.
She didn’t want their admiration, didn’t need their approval.
She was here for Lily.
She had ignored everything—except the small child lying before her.
And she ignored them.
Liam and Luther.
Her mates stood at the center of the crowd, their eyes locked onto her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She could see the barely contained fear in their expressions, the way their hands clenched at their sides as if fighting the urge to storm in and pull her away from the dying girl.
Yet, they stayed where they were.
They let her do this, even if it was breaking them.
Even as the night stretched on and the crowd of onlookers slowly dissipated, her mates remained standing outside the window. Their arms were crossed, their faces unreadable, but their eyes…
Charlie couldn’t allow herself to think about that now. If she did, she would fall apart.
Instead, she focused on Lily.
“You’ll have to see them one day, you know,” she continued, her fingers still brushing through the child’s hair. “Maybe I can take you when you feel better. We’ll pick flowers together.”
A lie.
A beautiful, impossible lie.
Charlie felt the weight of it settle deep in her chest, the pain curling around her ribs like a vice.
Lily’s parents still sat outside the door, their bodies pressed against the glass, watching helplessly. The raw agony on their faces made Charlie want to cry, but she kept it inside—for their sake, for Lily’s.
Dorian had come earlier in the night, stepping inside just long enough to check on Lily. “She’s fading,” he had told her quietly. “It won’t be long now.” His lips had been pressed into a firm line, his eyes filled with renewed determination before slipping out again.. He would find a cure. He had to.
Charlie had simply nodded and turned back to Lily, whispering soft reassurances and empty promises.
When Lily whimpered in her sleep, Charlie held her hand tighter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
She never let go.
She didn’t move, not even when the beeping of the monitor began to slow, the space between each beep growing longer, dragging out the inevitable.
Charlie sucked in a sharp breath, willing herself to stay composed.
Lily’s small chest barely rose with her final inhale.
Then…silence.
The world stood still.
A loud, prolonged beep echoed through the room, confirming what Charlie already knew.
Lily was gone.
Charlie sucked in a shaking breath, but it did nothing to steady her. The dam holding back her emotions cracked, and before she could stop it, a sob tore through her chest.
Her body trembled as she lowered her forehead onto the mattress, silent sobs wracking her frame. She had known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared her for the pain of it.
She had promised the little girl a future she would never get.
Promised her flowers and sunshine and better days.
And now, she was nothing more than another name to add to the growing list of the lost.
Charlie didn’t know how long she sat there, clinging to a small hand that no longer held warmth.
She wanted nothing more than to turn and run straight into Liam and Luther’s arms, to let them hold her together as she fell apart. But she couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
Dorian had warned her that they still didn’t know if she was a carrier of the disease. He had urged her to remain in isolation while he ran tests on her blood. She couldn’t risk exposing them—couldn’t bear the thought of one of them suffering the same way Lily had.
So instead, she stayed frozen in place, her fingers still gripping the small, lifeless hand of a girl who had deserved so much more than this cruel fate.
Even as Lily’s body was gently taken away, even as the room was cleaned and the last traces of blood and sickness were scrubbed away, Charlie remained frozen in place.
She felt empty.
She turned her head slowly toward the window, her gaze locking onto Liam’s first.
He looked as if he had just been punched in the gut. His blue eyes were wild with grief, his jaw tight as if he were barely holding himself together.
Luther stood beside him, his body tense, his hands clenched at his sides. He had never looked more furious, more helpless.
Charlie could feel their emotions through the mate bond, even with her side of it incomplete.
Anger.
Fear.
Desperation.
And something else—something deeper.
Aching longing.
They wanted to go to her.
Wanted to pull her into their arms, to comfort her, to take this pain away.
But they couldn’t.
Because she was locked behind this glass.
Because she had chosen this.
Charlie’s lip trembled, her fingers curling against her lap.
She wanted to break the window.
Wanted to throw herself into their arms and let them hold her together like they always did.
But instead, she did the only thing she could do.
She lifted her chin.
Straightened her shoulders.
And turned back toward the empty bed, where Lily’s warmth had already begun to fade.
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