He’s Dying

H E R A

I've attempted to call my father a few times, but he never picks up; I gave up three years ago. If he doesn't want to be involved in my life, that's his choice, but who wouldn't want to know their grandchildren?

My mother passed away when I was young, but I believe she would have stayed by my side if she were still alive. She wouldn't have left me alone with two pups. Eventually, she would have helped me once I got back on my feet.

How am I supposed to raise two kids on my own?

I have an incredible neighbor named Maria. She's in her sixties with no offspring or partner. She lives life on her own terms and enjoys looking after the kids in exchange for some of my homemade baked goods, and she’s a fairy.

I operate a bakery from my small kitchen, and the wedding cake I'm currently working on will pay the bills.

My aspiration is to launch my own bakery shop named Sweet Haven.

Maria lends a hand by watching them for a few hours each day while I bake. It was a great help that she was there to look out for them. I can't risk them getting hurt on the stove if I'm not there to supervise.

I am so thankful for Maria. She is my savior.

My friends Keia and Janice have no clue where I am. My father threatened to harm them if I tried to contact them.

So, I've kept my distance. I haven't checked my old email or used my old phone number. I am completely cut off from the magical world.

"You're doing fine," I remind myself as I finish tidying up.

Yes. You're surviving. You'll be okay.

I could feel my wolf’s embrace, who always comforted me.

But some days, I am drained. Some days, it's a battle not to give in. Then I hear Addison’s laughter or feel Aiden’s hand in mine, and I realize I can't give up. My pups need me.

"Hold on a second," I say, my voice filled with annoyance. "Who the hell is knocking at my door at five in the morning? The cake isn't due until three."

I quickly make my way to my kids' room, making sure not to wake them as I close the door. The knocking persists, growing more impatient. I let out a frustrated sigh and tightened my robe.

"I'm coming," I mutter under my breath, trying not to disturb my sleeping children. Unlocking the door, I open it slightly to see a man in a fancy suit standing there.

"Ms. Smith?" he asks.

I grip my robe tightly. "I haven't been called that in years. What do you want?" I reply, my voice laced with irritation.

"You're Mr. Smith’s daughter, right?" he continues.

I clench my teeth, feeling a surge of anger. "According to him, I'm not. So, what's the purpose of your visit? What does he want now?" I demand.

"Mommy? Who's at the door?" my son's voice interrupts.

I turn my head and force a smile. "Just a friend asking for a last-minute order, Aiden. Go back to bed, okay?" He stands in the hallway, rubbing his eyes, clearly skeptical.

My kids are too smart for their own good.

"Okay," he finally agrees. "You do make the best cookies."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I love you," I reply.

"I love you too," he says before heading back to his room.

The stranger takes a step forward, trying to enter my apartment. I quickly position myself in front of him, blocking his path.

"You may work for Alpha Smith and think you're invincible, but this is my home, and those kids are mine. You are not to come near them or invade their space. They don't know you, and neither do I. And just so we're clear, they are not his grandchildren. He made sure of that. Don't you dare think I won't stop you if you take one more step?" I can kill you in a snap. My royal blood still lingers in me. And I won’t deny the fact that I can kill this annoying man if he pushes my limit!

It's been a while since I've had to use any self-defense techniques, but I'll do whatever it takes to protect my children.

He raises his hand, signaling for me to calm down.

I snort and enter my apartment. "Tell him to go to hell," I say defiantly.

"He's dying. His last wish is to talk to you and meet his grandchildren."

I should be sad. My heart should be shattered. But instead, I feel an overwhelming anger. How dare he want to see me, Aiden, and Addison?

"He can talk to me, but he won't meet his grandchildren. He made sure he destroyed that chance. When do you need me there?"

"I'm supposed to take you and the kids to the airport now to fly on the private plane."

"Well, I have some business to attend to, so you'll have to wait."

He takes a step forward to come inside, but I block him.

"What are you doing?"

"You said I had to wait. I just thought—"

"You thought wrong. I don't allow strangers in my house, and I definitely don't allow anyone who works for my father in here. You can wait in the car." I slam the door in his face and lock it, and my heart pounds so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

This can't be happening. I had hoped my father would reach out to me in the early years, but that bridge has been burned.

I'm only going because if I don't go willingly, I'll be forced to go, and I'd rather see him on my own terms. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell him I'll see him in hell after all.

The children are once again fast asleep when we finally touch down. It's been a tiring day, and I've been pretty quiet and irritable.

"You're expected to remain—" the man employed by my father starts to say, but I raise my hand to cut him off.

"I won't be staying in this place after tonight. I'm only here so the kids can get some rest. Where is he?" I inquire, checking my watch to see it's almost eight in the evening.

It feels like an eternity, and I've only been back for ten minutes.

"I get it, Ms. Smith."

"Hera. Please," I interject.

"Brent," he introduces himself at last.

I stay silent as we pass through the iron gate. I gaze out the window, gently running my fingers through Aiden and Addison’s hair. Both of their heads are resting on my lap.

Everything looks unchanged. The yard is well-kept. The flowers are pristine. The grass is neatly trimmed. The pack royal mansion appears just as imposing and daunting as it did previously. The red brick, black door with matching shutters, and gleaming large windows give the house a spooky vibe.

It doesn't feel like a home at all, more like a prison.