Motherhood
CLEOPATRA’S POV
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, the lake waited for me. Still. Cold. A graveyard dressed in silver. And those violet eyes—they stared through me like shards of glass. The voice echoed long after I woke, slipping between my ribs and curling like smoke in my lungs.
‘Bring me the girl... or your son dies.’
The words haunted me as dawn painted soft gold across the windows. I had bathed, dressed, and even brushed my hair, but my reflection looked like a stranger. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Haunted. I tried to steady my hands, tried to breathe like everything was normal.
It wasn’t.
Williams noticed. Of course he did.
He stood in the doorway, his strong frame silhouetted by the light behind him. His eyes found me instantly, tracking the way I sat too still on the edge of the bed, my back stiff, fingers clenched around the edge of my robe.
“You’ve barely said a word,” he murmured, crossing the room in long strides. He knelt before me, cupping my face in his rough hands. “Baby. What is it? Are you alright?”
I wanted to lie.
Say it was nothing. Say I just didn’t sleep well. But the moment his thumbs brushed under my eyes, I cracked.
“I had a nightmare,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash. “But it wasn’t just a dream. It was a vision, Williams. It felt real. It was real.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. He listened, like he always did.
“It was about Jayden. And... the newborn. Renée’s daughter.”
The tension that surged through his body was immediate, though he tried to mask it. His fingers twitched slightly against my skin.
“What about her? Was it the same vision you told me about?”
I nodded and swallowed hard. My throat still burned from screaming in the dream.
“They were by a lake. Jayden and the girl. At first it seemed innocent. Sweet, even. But then she pushed him into the water.”
Williams’ eyes darkened.
“He was drowning,” I choked. “I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I just had to watch. She just stood there—staring. Like it didn’t matter. Like he meant nothing to her.”
“It was a dream, my queen,” he said gently. “Just a dream.”
“No,” I said, sharper than I intended. “It wasn’t. You know the difference. You know I don’t dream like this unless it’s something more. There was a voice. It told me to bring the girl or our son would die.”
His features hardened. His hands dropped from my face as he stood.
“Absolutely not.”
“Williams—”
“No,” he said firmly, pacing. “We are not giving power to whatever darkness is playing games with your mind. You’ve had visions before. They don’t always mean what they seem. And I won’t let you drive yourself mad trying to interpret them.”
I stood too. “This one is different. I felt it.”
“I don’t care what it said,” he growled. “No one touches our son. No one takes Renee’s daughter. And you—” He stepped closer, voice lowering. “—you will not torment yourself over this. That vision… was of the past. Or a manipulation. But not a threat. Do you hear me?”
I stared at him, heart hammering. He meant every word. Fierce. Protective. Unshakable.
I nodded slowly, though my insides coiled like snakes.
“I hear you,” I whispered.
But I didn’t believe him.
We left a short while later to go see Renee. The morning air was cool, and Jayden giggled brightly, oblivious to the storm behind my eyes. Williams carried Jayden with one hand, the other resting on my waist. A silent comfort. A silent reminder.
We were a family.
We were safe.
Except I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Renée and Alex’s home stood like a beacon of peace far from our private quarters, but not far from the pack house.
Warm brick. Lush garden. A wind chime tinkling softly at the porch. She greeted us with a tired smile and eyes full of love for her daughter, who slept in a cradle wrapped in hand-stitched blankets.
The moment I stepped into the room, my breath caught.
There she was.
The baby.
The girl.
Her little fist twitched in her sleep, and her impossibly pale lashes fluttered. She looked so small. So delicate. But the instant her eyes opened—
Violet.
The same violet as the dream.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Would you like to hold her?” Renée asked, beaming.
I managed a smile and shook my head. “She’s beautiful.”
She was. Ethereal, almost. Her hair was a soft halo of silver-gold, and her skin looked spun from milk and moonlight.
But I couldn’t stop staring into those eyes.
They blinked slowly, lazily, like she saw through me.
Like she recognized me.
And then—the smile.
A twitch. Subtle. But real.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The same smile.
That same unnatural calm. Like innocence wasn’t even part of her vocabulary. Like she was older than the stars and just biding her time.
The dream came roaring back.
The splash. The silence. The voice.
Bring me the girl... or your son dies.
I tore my eyes away, swallowing bile.
Jayden tugged at my hand. “Mama, look!” he said, pointing to a toy Renée had left on the floor.
I forced a laugh. “Go ahead, baby. Play nice.”
Williams gave me a concerned look, but I waved it off.
Renée came to sit beside me on the couch. She looked tired but blissfully happy. Her daughter was her world already. I could see it in her every touch, every glance.
She had no idea.
No idea what that child’s birth might mean. What it might cost.
And I—
I would not let that cost be my son.
Jayden laughed again, rolling around on the carpet with a stuffed wolf in his arms. The baby in the cradle stirred, watching him now.
I felt it in my bones.
A shift. A pull.
I reached instinctively for Jayden, calling softly, “Come here, sweetheart.”
He jumped to his feet and scampered over, wrapping his arms around my legs. I lifted him onto my lap and kissed his temple.
Safe. Warm. Here.
But I couldn’t shake it.
That voice had meant it.
And this girl...
This tiny, perfect creature, swaddled and silent...
Was at the center of it.
“You highness?” Renée asked gently.
I blinked. Realized I had been silent too long. “Sorry,” I murmured. “Just tired.”
She smiled knowingly. “Motherhood.”
I nodded, but the weight of what I was feeling pressed harder.
What was this girl?
Why did the universe wrap her in beauty only to coat her aura in dread?
I left Renée’s house minutes later with a hollow ache in my gut and my son clutched tight against me. Williams wrapped an arm around my shoulder, but I barely registered the touch.
I couldn’t stop thinking.
About the dream.
The lake.
The command.
And that terrifying possibility:
What if this wasn’t a warning?
What if it was a countdown?
That night, I sat in the nursery, watching Jayden sleep. The moon hung full outside the window, casting shadows across the walls.
I turned to the spellbook Lucien had given me after I lost my powers. I could still conjure things and cast spells, but the magic is no longer in my veins.
It’s now in Jayden’s.
I had once promised Williams never to use it again. But now, I don’t care about promises. I flipped past pages of protection. Of banishment. Of prophecy.
Something was coming. Something ancient. Something watching.
And I would not let it have him.
No matter what.
I looked down at my son, brushed his hair back from his forehead, and whispered, “If I have to burn the world to keep you safe, I will.”
Then I picked up a blade.
And drew the first warding rune in blood.
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