011 | When Guilt Comes Crawling.

P E R S E U S

“Severus, finish up here,” I mutter, following the guard as my steps quicken—until soon, I’m running toward the dungeon grounds.

A part of me is weighed down by guilt for locking her up this long. Another part, however, is convinced this could just be another stunt of hers.

That part vanishes the moment I arrive at the ballroom.

She’s in the arms of one of the guards, pale and frail, with blood trailing down her legs.

“Eleanor!” I yell, as if shouting her name might bring her back in an instant. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I was only going to teach her a lesson—not this.

I rush toward the guard as he gently hands her to me. She feels light—lighter than when I had carried her unconscious form back at the castle after she jumped from her balcony.

A fragile wave of relief washes over me when I realize she’s still breathing. Slow, dragged breaths—but breaths nonetheless.

“Get the healer,” I bark, racing toward the bedroom with her limp form in my arms.

Her maid—the one I’d completely forgotten even existed—is the first to rush into the room.

“Eleanor! Eleanor, what happened? You said you’d be okay!” she cries, clutching Eleanor’s hands.

“Hey!” I snap, making the girl flinch. Taking a deep breath, I lower my tone. “She’s not dying. She’s unconscious. Go get water to clean her up before the healer arrives.”

“Y-yes, Alpha,” she stammers, gathering her dress and dashing out of the room.

I don’t even know what to do. I just stand there, staring at my wife. Waiting. I hold her wrist, feeling for her pulse. Death won’t separate us—not after everything. I’ll make sure of that.

Her face is smeared with mud. My undeniably attractive, ferocious wife is now fighting for her life—again.

When the healer arrives, I’m sent outside, and a league of maids fills the room, assisting him as he tends to Eleanor.

“Calm down, Perseus. She’ll be fine,” Severus sighs, handing me a cup of coffee.

I shoot him a glare.

“Two for me then,” he shrugs, settling next to me at the entrance of the bedroom.

“It’s been an hour already. It’s not like she’s birthing a child,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Well, if you had listened to me, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Severus grumbles, taking a sip of his coffee.

Biting down on my lower lip hard, I swing my arm, knocking both cups from his hand. The ceramics crash to the floor as I rise to my full height and point at him.

“If you weren’t my friend, I would’ve snapped your neck instead.”

Just then, the door opens, and another batch of maids steps out—carrying a large bowl filled with bloody water.

Did she get poisoned?

Was she trying to kill herself again—to spite me?

What could’ve caused her to lose that much blood?

The healer finally steps out, his bag in hand. I’ve known him since I was a child. Jeremiah—that’s his name. The expression on his face is unreadable. It’s not the hopeful one he wears when my father shows signs of recovery, nor the sorrowful one he wore when he announced my mother’s passing. This one… is harder to read. Mixed. Unsettling.

“How is she?” I ask.

“She’s doing much better now. We’ve successfully stabilized her. She just needs to rest for a while. I predict she’ll be awake by tomorrow.”

I let out a heavy sigh of relief, running my fingers through my hair.

“See? I told you she’d be fine,” Severus chuckles.

“Before you go see her… can I speak with you privately, Perseus?” Jeremiah asks.

I nod and follow him outside. Once we’re out of the castle, he clears his throat.

“Your wife had a miscarriage.”