CHAPTER 48: UNTIL THE MOONBLOOD LINE IS DUST...

Carla’s eyes fluttered, and with a weak whisper, she forced out some words before going limp.

"I think... I’m having a heart attack—"

Her body convulsed once before collapsing sideways onto the couch, her head striking the armrest with a dull thud.

"Carla!" Angela’s voice tore through the room. She lurched forward, catching her sister’s shoulders just as her body sagged, limp and frighteningly still. "Oh God, Carla, stay with me!"

Jonathan froze for half a beat, then stood sharply, muttering, "What now..." as if inconvenienced rather than horrified.

"Don’t just stand there!" Angela screamed, her hands fumbling to lift Carla’s chin. "Call an ambulance!"

Jonathan blinked, patted down his pockets for his phone like a man searching for his keys, and finally dialed emergency services. His voice on the phone was oddly calm: "Yes, my wife. She uhh... she just collapsed. Yes, chest pain. Just send someone." He hung up, too quickly.

Angela pressed her ear against Carla’s lips. There was a faint breath. Her sister was still alive, but barely. Her heart thundered in panic.

"Carla, listen to me, you’re not leaving me here, do you hear me? You are not leaving Bella!" she cried, rubbing her palms against Carla’s hands that were slowly turning cold.

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably, watching. "She’s still breathing. They’ll be here soon. Stop panicking, Angela."

"Stop panicking?" Angela’s eyes shot fire as she glared at him. "That’s your wife, Jonathan! She might be dying and you’re telling me to stop panicking?"

He raised a hand dismissively, his jaw tight. "You’re not helping her by screaming."

Angela ignored him, lowering herself closer to Carla, whispering fiercely. "You’re strong, Carla. You always have been. You’ve carried Bella through storms, you’ve faced this cruel world. You’ve faced even this pathetic, demonic being of a husband. So this cannot just be how your story ends, do you hear me? You fight!"

Carla’s lashes fluttered once, then stilled.

Angela shook her again. "Stay with me, Carla. PLEASE!"

The sound of sirens came but still faint in the distance. Angela sprang up, rushing to the door, waving frantically when she saw the flashing lights. Two paramedics jogged in, carrying their kits, their masked faces taut with urgency.

"She collapsed," Angela stammered, guiding them quickly. "She was shouting, then she grabbed her chest, muttering something incoherently about a heart attack. Please, help her."

The paramedics moved with calm efficiency. One checked vitals, the other prepared oxygen. "Weak pulse," one muttered.

They lifted Carla gently onto a stretcher, securing her as Angela hovered, wringing her hands. Jonathan followed at a slower pace, slipping his phone back into his pocket, looking rather unbothered.

As they wheeled Carla towards the ambulance, Angela climbed in beside her without hesitation. "I’m not leaving her side."

Jonathan hesitated before stepping in after them, muttering, "Fine," under his breath.

—

Inside the ambulance, Angela clutched Carla’s hand, whispering prayers and pleas, her tears streaking down her face. Jonathan sat opposite, spreading his legs wide and resting his hands on his knees, his eyes fixed at some point beyond his wife’s dying body.

"Do something!" Angela snapped at him, her voice breaking. "Talk to her, hold her hand. She’s your wife!"

Jonathan’s gaze flicked to Carla briefly before sliding away again. "You’re doing enough of that for both of us."

Angela wanted to scream and bang his head on the ambulance door.

Instead, she leaned close to her sister’s ear, whispering, "You’re not done, Carla. Bella still needs you. Don’t leave her. Please don’t leave her."

Carla’s chest rose and fell faintly under the mask they’d placed on her, but she gave no sign she could hear.

They arrived at the hospital some minutes later, fluorescent lights glaring coldly as they rushed Carla through sliding doors. Angela followed close enough but she was forced to stop at the edge of the ER while doctors swarmed her sister, attaching wires, pumping fluids, barking orders to one another.

Angela pressed a fist to her mouth, trembling. Jonathan appeared at her side, arms crossed.

"They’ll handle it, stop crying like a child," he said.

She turned to him, incredulous. "Is that all you can say? ’They’ll handle it’? What if they don’t, Jonathan? What if she doesn’t make it?"

His expression hardened, his voice clipped. "Then it’s out of our hands. Panicking won’t change the outcome."

Angela felt a sudden rage inside of her.

WHACK!

She gave him a resounding slap across his eye.

"You bitch! You hit me!" He charged at her but she silenced him.

"Touch me and I’ll make sure my sister never wakes up to see your ugly face again. It should be you on that hospital bed," she spat.

He stood eyeing her from head to toe, but could do nothing. He slowly walked out.

When the tension was over, Angela was allowed back into her room.

She sat beside Carla on the bed as the monitors beeped steadily.

Carla’s body remained still, pale against the hospital sheets.

But inside, far from the sterile lights and beeping monitors, she had been pulled elsewhere.

---

The world around Carla was not at the hospital, nor at her living room.

She stood barefoot on black earth, but she could feel nothing beneath her feet. It felt like she was floating.

A low mist clung to the ground, thick and suffocating. The air carried no scent, no breeze. Silence pressed against her ears, heavy and unnatural.

Her voice cracked the stillness. "Where... am I?"

The mist shifted. From within its folds, a figure emerged. At first, Carla’s mind clung to recognition: the neat bun, the long black dress, the coldly elegant stance of Maren. But as she stepped closer, her form shimmered, the disguise peeling away like ash.

Her eyes glowed molten amber. A shadow loomed behind her, a wolf larger than any natural beast, its outline jagged with smoke, jaws dripping with darkness itself.

Carla staggered back, heart hammering. "You..."

Maren smiled, slow and cruel. "It’s been a long, loong time, hasn’t it... Liora?"

The name slammed into Carla’s chest like a blade. Her knees almost buckled. She hadn’t heard that name in....

eons

"Don’t call me that," she whispered.

"You can shed your skin, change your name, bury yourself in human flesh," Maren murmured, circling her. "But blood remembers. Blood always remembers. You are Moonblood. And so is the girl you brought into this world."

Carla’s throat went dry. "Stay away from her!" she ordered through clenched teeth.

Maren tilted her head, her smile widening. "Ah, the protective mother. Always so quick to shield the child. But tell me, Liora, did you shield your pack when they were attacked? Burned? And scattered across different lifetimes? Did you shield your mate when my claws tore through his throat?"

Images assaulted Carla’s mind, the flashes of a forest burning down in flames, screams—her own screams, fur and blood tangled in destructive violence. She stumbled, clutching her head. "Stop it—"

"You remember." Maren’s voice, smooth as silk and laced with venom. "Your line should have ended that night. I should have ripped it out, root and stem. But fate... fate was cruel. It let one seed survive. And now here she is, your precious daughter. Walking into my school, welding power she doesn’t even understand."

Carla raised her chin, forcing steadiness into her voice though her insides trembled. "Bella is innocent. She knows nothing of this war. She deserves a life free from it."

Maren’s laugh echoed, sharp and mocking. "There is no freedom for a Moonblood. Her blood binds her. Her blood condemns her. And I—" she leaned forward, her wolf-shadow snarling "—I will break her. Slowly. Until she begs for death the way you once begged me."

Carla’s fury flared, momentarily drowning her fear. "You won’t touch her. Whatever vendetta you still feed, it ends with me, not her. Do you hear me, Maren? It ends with me!"

For the first time, Maren stopped circling. Her smile vanished. The shadow-wolf surged forward, its jaws inches from Carla’s throat.

"How do you think your daughter got into my school? That wretched fairytale of some stupid uncle pitching her in?"

"Hahaha..." she laughed maniacally.

"I DID THAT!!!" Her voice echoed everywhere.

"I summoned her spirit to me and sent that admission letter. You know why? Because just as you were, she is mine to destroy."

"No..." Carla whispered.

"You must think yourself untouchable now because you’re human. And even at that, you did not rest. Protecting your cub from the human realm. But not to worry I have that under control, I have YOU under control and I have her under control."

"You will do nothing to my child." Carla warned.

"You can warn me a thousand times," she whispered, her voice venomous. "It changes nothing. Until the Moonblood line is dust, I will not rest."

Carla’s pulse roared in her ears. The mist clung tighter around her ankles, binding her as Maren leaned close, her words like poison in her ear:

"Your daughter will be the undoing of us all. And I will be her undoing."

Carla screamed, the sound tearing through the dream...

Yet in the hospital bed her lips never moved. The monitors beeped, steady, oblivious.

Angela sat at her side, clutching her hand, whispering desperately, "Come back to me, Carla. Please.."

But Carla was trapped in the shadows, buried deep into the dungeon of her enemy...