Chapter 21

SCARLETT

This was our best shot. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what was going through Christopher’s mind, witnessing his past replay itself, facing the potential loss of another mate in the exact same manner.

Our emotions were a tangled mess. It was hard to distinguish which feelings were mine and which were his. But one thing was clear—we were both terrified, yet we clung to hope.

Fear and faith.

Two emotions that seemed contradictory. You were either scared, or you had faith.

But there was something that bolstered my faith even more. It wasn’t the Goddess, nor the miracles I had witnessed. It was Caroline.

Little Caroline was living proof that this could work. She had survived, and that gave me hope that Anthony could too.

Jack began applying the anti-silver serum to me. The relief was immediate, but the easing of the burn only made the contractions more noticeable.

Caroline watched me with wide eyes, gripping my hand tightly. As Jack prepared himself, donning surgical cloth from the infirmary, I noticed Caroline’s dress was wet.

“Sweetie, are you wet?” I asked, running my hand over her soaked dress.

“Water came on me when it went ~boom~,” she said, using her little hands to mimic the explosion.

Water?

It was residue. I ran my hand over the wet part of her dress and felt a burning sensation.

“Caroline, this is silver! Isn’t it burning?” I asked, my eyes wide with surprise.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head.

“But how is that possible?” I asked, looking at Jack, who was equally baffled.

“Honey, don’t you feel anything?” I asked Caroline softly, but another contraction interrupted me.

“Ahhhh,” I couldn’t help but scream.

“No, Mommy,” Caroline replied, shaking her head.

“What’s going on?” Christopher’s voice came through the wall, confusion evident in his tone.

“We just realized that Caroline was also hit with silver because she doesn’t feel anything,” I managed to say louder.

“But how? How is this possible?” Christopher asked through the wall. “A wolf immune to silver?”

“It’s not, and—” Jack began, but a theory was forming in my mind.

“What if Violet was poisoned with silver, and Caroline received the metal through the placenta? If it was administered in small doses over time, maybe even through supplements during pregnancy, Caroline would have received small doses while still in the womb, and this could have made her immune,” I said, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together in my mind.

“That makes sense,” Jack said, and I heard Christopher let out a heavy sigh from the other side.

Then, another contraction hit.

Jack examined me again and said, “Your water must have broken in the explosion, but Scarlett, you’re fully dilated.” His words coincided with a wave of panic.

It was time.

Anthony was about to be born, and it was happening now.

I knew we couldn’t delay. He would go into fetal distress.

Jack was swift, his movements precise, and his calm demeanor kept me grounded.

“You need to push hard,” Jack said, smiling. “I’ve delivered a lot of babies with your mother.”

My mother. How I wished she were here.

But then another contraction hit.

“Use the pain to push,” Jack advised, and I did. I pushed hard, and the contractions were getting longer.

“Someone tell me something,” Christopher pleaded anxiously. I wished he could be there with me.

“I’m pushing. Anthony is coming,” I managed to say, my voice choked with pain, struggling to breathe.

Caroline’s grip on my hand tightened.

I looked at her, grateful for her presence. As much as I had always cared for her, now she was caring for me.

The pain was intense, threatening to make me pass out, but I had to stay strong.

I had to be strong for Anthony.

I tried to regulate my breathing, but another contraction hit. I pushed a little more.

“Scarlett,” Christopher called out through the wall. “You know I wanted to be there with you, right? It’s going to be okay.”

His words filled my heart, but before I could respond, another contraction forced me to strain, push, and scream once again.

“I know, honey,” I managed to say between contractions, which were becoming increasingly difficult to breathe through.

I could barely catch my breath when another contraction hit. The sharp pain came in waves and eased in between. Then another contraction, and another, and I pushed harder and harder until I heard Jack say, “Keep going, Scarlett. It’s the head. I can see it.”

I seized the opportunity to push hard, with all my might, and I felt him moving through my birth canal.

“The head is out. Keep pushing,” Jack instructed, and I continued pushing.

“By the Goddess, may she be with us.” Christopher’s voice in the background was soothing.

“Go ahead, Scarlett. He’s almost there.” Jack’s encouragement was what I needed for the final push, and I felt him leave.

I felt relief, followed by a wave of dread.

No crying.

I lifted my head and saw Jack holding my son, Anthony, in his arms. He was limp, lifeless. Jack quickly pulled a stethoscope from his neck and placed it on his chest.

The following seconds were the most desperate of my life. If I thought I had ever felt despair, nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to that moment. I would, without a doubt, trade my life for his. I would let the moon take me if it meant he could live. I even prayed for it.

“His heartbeat is weak, and he’s more purple than normal. It must be the silver.”