Selene's POV.
The world was a blur of white walls, slow beeping, and suffocating stillness when I woke up.
A soft groan escaped my lips as I turned my head. My limbs felt like lead, my skin burning cold. But I wasn’t alone.
Damon was there.
Sitting beside me, his face buried in his hands. When he looked up, I flinched.
Because the way he smiled… it wasn’t the monster I heard last night. It was the man I once trusted, the one who used to whisper sweet nothings against my stomach and promise forever.
"You're awake," he said gently, reaching for my hand. "How are you feeling, love?"
I didn’t answer right away. My voice was lodged in my throat.
Because… was it a dream?
His fingers curled around mine with practiced warmth, and for a second, I doubted everything. Maybe I had hallucinated the whole thing. The doctor did say I’d been poisoned. Maybe it was all in my head.
Still…
His touch chilled me to my core.
"You need surgery, Selene," Damon said softly, brushing my hair back like he cared. "There’s a complication. If we don’t act fast, either you or the baby could die. I… I can’t lose you both."
His voice cracked like a man in agony. It was almost convincing.
I stared at him, trembling.
“I… I don’t want surgery,” I croaked. “Not by a doctor. I want to be healed by an elf instead. Their magic—” My voice faltered. “Their magic will protect the baby. It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”
Damon’s brows furrowed, lips pulling into a regretful frown. “Selene… elves live far away. We don’t have time. You’re already weak. Waiting could make things worse.”
Just then, the door opened—and my brother rushed in.
“Sant—” My voice broke as I reached for him.
Santino dropped to his knees beside the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His scent—home, safety, warmth—flooded my senses. I finally let myself cry.
After a moment, I pulled away and whispered, “I want a healer, not a doctor. Please. I need to be sure the baby survives this.”
Damon opened his mouth, but Santino nodded before he could speak. “Then I’ll summon one,” he said firmly. “I’ll contact Mr. Elm.”
“You won’t be able to,” Damon said calmly. “He won’t trust an unfamiliar messenger. Santino, you have ties with their people. You’re the only one who can convince them. And time is running out.”
Santino hesitated, then sighed. “He’s right.” He cupped my cheek. “I’ll go myself. I’ll bring Mr. Elm back. Three days—no more. I’ll teleport back the second he agrees.”
I clutched his shirt, voice barely a whisper. “Take me with you.”
Santino glanced at Damon, then shook his head. “It’s too dangerous in your condition.”
“No,” Damon said firmly, stepping forward. “This time, I won’t let you go. You need rest, Selene. I won’t risk losing you or the baby.”
As Santino turned to leave, I felt my chest tighten. A cold dread crawled up my spine.
Something told me this would be the last time I’d see my brother.
Santino paused at the door and turned to me one last time—smiling, hopeful, strong.
“I’ll come back,” he promised. “I swear it.”
Then he was gone.
Later that evening, I stirred again.
I wasn’t alone.
A shadow loomed over me—and it wasn’t Damon.
Dalia.
Damon’s cousin. A woman who always looked at me with scorn and jealousy. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she approached the bed.
“Look at you now,” she sneered. “The almighty Selene, looking like a beggar on her deathbed. So pathetic.”
Before I could respond, her hand shot out—and she slapped me hard across the face.
Pain exploded in my skull. My body was too weak to react.
Dalia’s gaze dropped to my neck. “Ooh, what’s this?” She yanked at my necklace, snapping it off with a sharp jerk. I gasped as pain seared across my throat.
The enchanted necklace… the one with the feather—
It was gone.
No. No. No.
My blood ran cold.
The feather was missing, which meant…
It wasn’t a hallucination.
It was real.
All of it.
Dalia twirled the broken chain around her finger with a smirk. “You’re not going to need this anymore. Damon’s bringing back Eliah. You? You’re just a memory.”
She leaned closer, her breath hot and cruel against my ear. “You should be honored. You’ll die for a great cause.”
She pulled a syringe from her coat.
“This’ll help you rest peacefully,” she mocked. “Forever.”
I struggled, weak and shaking, but she jammed the needle into my arm. I screamed—silently. No one came.
Three hours passed.
Then another shot.
Then another.
The drugs were slowly killing me.
I could feel it in my bones. My body was shutting down. My breath grew shallow. My tears stained the pillow silently.
When I felt a presence beside me again, I thought maybe it was Santino.
But it was Damon.
He brushed my hair back tenderly. I turned my head away.
Then, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back.
“So,” he whispered darkly, “you did hear me last night.”
My heart stopped.
I froze.
How… how did he know?
His eyes gleamed, cold and wicked. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice that little feather of yours glowing before it vanished? I was just in the door, Selene.”
He leaned closer, voice sharp as a knife.
“You sent for help.”
He smiled.
“Too bad it’ll come too late.”
