41

The cabin was eerily silent, save for the muffled sobs that echoed through the hallways. Ana sat curled up on the bed, her face buried in her hands as the weight of her despair threatened to consume her.

For days, she had waited, her heart filled with a mixture of hope and dread, for Damien to return. But the hours had ticked by, and there had been no sign of her mate, no word of his whereabouts or the outcome of his confrontation with Ezekiel.

And now, with the specter of Octavia's twisted plans looming over her, Ana felt utterly helpless – a mere pawn in a game that was spiraling far beyond her control.

Lifting her head, she gazed with hollow eyes at the door to the bedroom, where their son slept fitfully, the weight of their precarious situation weighing heavily on his young shoulders. Ana ached to comfort him, to assure him that everything would be alright, but the truth was, she had no such reassurance to offer.

"Damien," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of longi