CHAPTER 379: WHEN EVERYTHING FALLS APART...

Lyla

When I entered the house, I found Ramsey sitting on the couch, staring down at his hands as if he’d never seen them before. His shoulders were rigid with tension, and I could feel waves of conflicted emotion rolling off him through our mate bond—anger, protectiveness, and something that felt like self-loathing.

I paused at the door, my hand still on the handle, not knowing what to do or say or whether to step forward or give him space. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken accusations and the result of my poor choices.

The truth was, I had no excuse. The day Paul had first shown up at our door, both Ramsey and I had agreed that we wouldn’t entertain him anymore. I’d had a choice when he offered me a ride from the market, and I’d made the wrong one. There was no justification for getting into that car with him, especially after Ramsey’s warnings about Paul’s behaviour.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly from where I stood. "I bumped into him at the market, and he offered a ride. He was so insistent, and I thought it would be rude not to accept his offer. And I didn’t want to cause a scene."

Ramsey didn’t wait for me to finish. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, meeting my gaze with eyes that held more disappointment than anger.

"I’m going to go pack our bags," he said flatly, rising to his feet. "We’re going home."

"Home?" I rushed toward him. "We’ve barely been here for a week. Additionally, we need to resolve the issue with Paul and his car. We can’t just go home—things don’t work like that in the human world."

"Really?" Ramsey walked closer to me, his voice taking on that deadly quiet tone that meant he was holding back what he truly wanted to say. "You intentionally put yourself and my children in danger because you want to remain friends with your colleague? What’s so hard about cutting off people and letting them go? Is it going to take him hurting you before you understand?"

I took a step back. "Paul didn’t mean any harm, Ramsey. He’s just—"

"He’s a stalker," Ramsey interrupted firmly. "I told you that from the first time I saw him. I know how stalkers behave because I’ve experienced it myself. I know the signs. You didn’t listen. You keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, Lyla. One day, it’s going to cost us everything." His jaw clenched. "Look, I don’t want us to fight. I’m not in the mood to fight. We’re going home, and that’s final."

I studied his face, seeing the exhaustion and worry beneath his anger. "Fine," I nodded reluctantly. "But before we go home, we must do the right thing. We need to repair Paul’s car and attempt to persuade him not to involve the police or sue us. Then we’ll leave."

Ramsey stared at me for several long seconds, then shook his head and walked toward our bedroom without another word.

I let out a long, trembling sigh and headed for the kitchen, needing something to calm my nerves. As I reached for the refrigerator handle to get some water, a sharp pain suddenly lanced through my lower stomach.

My body folded forward instinctively. I gasped, pressing one hand to the cold metal of the fridge.

"Oh!" I groaned, doubling over as the pain hit me again. My hands flew to my belly this time, and I leaned heavily against the refrigerator for support, as my breath came in short gasps.

The pain was unlike anything I’d experienced during this pregnancy—it felt like someone was squeezing my insides with a fist, and radiating outward from deep in my abdomen.

I pressed my back against the cool refrigerator door, trying to breathe through the pain while my mind raced. Was this normal? Was something wrong with the twins? The agony seemed to go on forever, though it was probably only thirty seconds before it began to fade.

Slowly, carefully, I straightened up, one hand still protectively covering my stomach. What had that been? I made a mental note to call Nanny later and tell her about it. I couldn’t use human doctors for this—werewolf babies didn’t grow like their human counterparts, and any medical examination would raise too many questions.

As soon as I finished drinking a glass of water, the doorbell rang. I walked to the door and opened it to find the tall, winnowy man who had offered to repair Paul’s car.

"All finished," he said with a bright smile, wiping oil-stained hands on an equally dirty rag.

I peered over his shoulder and gasped. True to his word, the car looked as good as new, if not better. There wasn’t a single sign of the damage Ramsey had inflicted. I could see various tools and equipment scattered near the vehicle, and the man himself was covered in grease stains and smelled strongly of motor oil.

"That was fast. I thought it was going to be at it all day?"

"These days, fixing a car is easier than people think," he said with a modest shrug. "Modern manufacturing, you know."

I nodded, still amazed by the transformation. "Would you like to come in for some coffee? It’s the least I can do after you saved us from a very awkward situation."

"That’s very kind of you."

I motioned him to the couch and busied myself making coffee, grateful for the distraction. When I brought him the steaming mug, I reached for my chequebook on the kitchen counter.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked, pen poised to write.

The man turned to me with that same bright smile and laughed. "Nothing at all. Just a referral, if you don’t mind. I just moved to this neighbourhood, and I’m looking to start up a garage business. If you could put in a good word for me with the neighbours, that would be payment enough."

"Of course!" I said enthusiastically. "I’d be happy to recommend you. Your work is incredible."

"You and your husband seem new, too. Where did you come from before coming here?" my neighbour asked.

"Oh, just here and there," I replied with a slight shrug. "We’ve been travelling for a while. I went back home, thought some months ago, nearly a year now, after my dad died. Met my husband, fell in love, and we’re back here again. Thankfully, I kept the lease."

The man nodded with a smile. "That sounds like a lot of fun. I decided to leave my small village after so many years of telling myself I would leave before the new year. I finally worked up the courage and left. However, it now feels like a bad idea. I had no idea adulthood was so expensive."

I laughed, smiling at the grimace on his face and remembering the first time I’d tried to move away from Nanny. She’d thrown a tantrum, but I’d insisted I wanted to leave.

As we continued chatting, I began to feel slightly woozy, my head swimming in a way that made me grab the kitchen counter for support. The room seemed to tilt slightly, and I blinked hard to clear my vision.

The man finished his coffee and brought the empty cup to me. "Are you alright?" he asked, studying my face with concern. "You look quite pale."

I straightened up, forcing a laugh that sounded too high and bright. "I’m fine! Just pregnancy fatigue, you know how it is. Pregnant women are always tired."

He nodded understandingly. "Well, I should be going. Thank you for the coffee and the hospitality."

I walked him to the door, but as we reached it, that sharp pain struck my stomach again. This time it was worse, more intense, and accompanied by a strange cramping sensation that made my knees wobble.

The man turned to say goodbye, then his expression changed completely. His eyes went wide with alarm as he pointed toward my legs.

"You’re bleeding," he said urgently.

I looked down. Dark red blood was trickling down my legs, staining my light-colored pants and pooling on the floor beneath me. The sight of it made the room start to swim around me, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

"What’s happening?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.

At that exact moment, a police car pulled up in front of our house, its presence adding another layer of crisis to an already devastating situation.

The man was saying something, but his voice sounded as if it were coming from underwater. My legs felt weak and unsteady, and I could feel myself starting to sway.

The twins. Something was wrong with my babies.

Through the mate bond, I felt Ramsey’s alarm as he sensed my distress. I heard his footsteps pounding through the house toward us, but everything was becoming hazy and distant.

"Ramsey," I called out weakly, my hand pressed against the wall for support as more blood appeared. "Ramsey, something’s wrong."

The police car doors were opening outside, officers stepping onto our sidewalk just as my husband appeared in the hallway behind me, his face going white when he saw the blood.

Everything was falling apart at once, and I couldn’t stop any of it.

My children, my marriage, our safety—all of it balanced on a knife’s edge as the human world and our supernatural reality collided in the most dangerous way possible.

And I was bleeding, with no idea if my babies would survive whatever was happening inside me.