Godiva PoV
The soft golden light of dawn seeped through the thick curtains of our room. I sat by his bedside, my hands clasped together in silent prayer, though I wasn’t even sure who I was praying to. Days had passed since he fell unconscious, his body battered and broken, but I couldn’t leave his side. Every shallow rise and fall of his chest was a lifeline, tethering me to hope.
“Castor,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Wake up. Do I need to worry?”
The words were barely out when I felt it-a faint stir in his hand. My heart leaped in my chest as I leaned closer, barely breathing. His fingers twitched again, followed by a low groan. His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but alive.
“Alpha Castor?” I called softly, tears spilling from my eyes.
“My precious,” he rasped, his voice weak but unmistakable.
I couldn’t help the sob that escaped my lips as I pressed his hand to my cheek. Relief flooded through me like a tidal wave, washing away the dread that had clung to me for days.
“You’re awake,” I said, my voice shaking. “Thank the Moon Goddess, you’re awake.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”
Despite the tears streaming down my face, I laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to hope.
As the days passed, Castor’s strength began to return. We moved him to the sunlit sitting room of the cottage, where Pollux and I could keep a closer eye on him. He sat propped up by cushions, his usual commanding presence somewhat diminished but his sharp mind intact.
“Luna Godiva,” he began one afternoon, his tone serious. “There’s something you need to understand about our world. About why I fight. Why Pollux fights.”
I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. Castor rarely spoke of his duties beyond the pack, and I had long since stopped asking, respecting his boundaries. But now, he seemed ready to share a piece of himself I’d never seen before.
“There’s more to this world than werewolves,” he said. “You know that. But what you might not know is that we aren’t just creatures living in separate corners. The Alliances of Three Nations were forged centuries ago to ensure that peace remains between us-the Werewolf Race, the Vampire Clans, and the Witch Covens.”
I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “The Alliances… What do they do?”
“They govern us,” he explained. “They establish rules and settle disputes, ensuring no single nation gains power over the others. We coexist under a fragile truce, and it’s our duty, along with others, to uphold it.”
Pollux, who had been silently observing, spoke up. “It’s not just about maintaining peace, Godiva. There’s always a chance-no, a certainty-that this peace will shatter one day. That’s why we’ve dedicated ourselves to Blackmoon.”
My gaze shifted to Pollux, my brow furrowing. “Blackmoon?”
“The forge,” he said simply. “We create weapons capable of defending our kind. Not just werewolves, but all three nations. In the event of war, we’ll need them. The world is balanced on the edge of a blade, Luna Godiva. All it takes is one misstep.”
The gravity of their words left me speechless. I had always seen Castor and Pollux as leaders within the pack, but this… this was something far greater. They weren’t just warriors; they were guardians of an uneasy peace that spanned centuries.
“Why tell me this now?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Castor’s gaze softened. “Because you’re a part of this, whether you want to be or not. The alliances affect us all, and if anything were to happen, you need to be prepared.”
His words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. I nodded, though my mind churned with questions I wasn’t ready to ask.
That night, as I sat in the dimly lit room beside Declan’s bed, I couldn’t shake the weight of Castor’s revelation. The world I thought I knew had expanded in ways I wasn’t sure I could comprehend.
Declan’s still form lay before me, his chest rising and falling at a slow, steady pace. Unlike Castor, his injuries weren’t physical. Whatever battle he’d faced had left scars on his soul, and I had no idea how to help him heal.
“Declan,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Come back to me. Please.”
As if hearing my plea, his eyes fluttered open, the stormy gray depths meeting mine. Relief flooded me, but it was tempered by uncertainty. His gaze held something I couldn’t quite place-an emotion too tangled for me to untangle.
“Godiva,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What happened?”
“You’re safe,” I said quickly. “You’ve been unconscious, but you’re safe now.”
He blinked, his expression unreadable. “I… I remember darkness. Voices. But I couldn’t move.”
“It’s over now,” I assured him, though my own heart raced. Declan’s tone was distant, almost detached, and it unnerved me.
“I need to tell you something,” I said hesitantly, sitting back slightly. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.”
He frowned, the tension in his body evident. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “I’m not just human, Declan. I’m… I’m a werewolf.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Declan’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes… his eyes told a story I couldn’t read.
“You’re a werewolf,” he repeated, his tone flat.
“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. Afraid of how you’d react. But you deserve the truth.”
He didn’t speak, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond me. The weight of his silence pressed down on me, and I felt my chest tighten.
“Declan, say something,” I pleaded.
His eyes finally met mine, but they had no answers. Only questions. Only confusion.
“I… I need time,” he said at last, his voice barely audible.
I nodded, though his words felt like a dagger in my chest. I wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had suddenly formed between us, but I didn’t know how.
As I left the room, his gaze followed me, unreadable and heavy. I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as tears threatened to spill.
I had given him the truth, but at what cost? The friendship I thought we shared now felt fragile, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d just lost something I could never get back.
And yet, as I walked away, one thought lingered in my mind, whispering like a shadow.
What would Declan do with the truth now that he knew?