All Chapters of Betrayed, But Redeemed.: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

FIONA’S POV.I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as we sped down the road toward Crestwood General Hospital. My chest felt tight, each breath a struggle against the lump in my throat. The memories I had buried long ago clawed their way back to the surface, leaving my heart heavy. They had said it was critical. That he might not make it. I wanted to steel myself, to feel nothing, but the emotions came rushing in like a flood. My father—the man who had once been my hero, the one I used to look up to as a child—was now a shadow of those memories. He had changed so much after my mother died. I was only nine years old when she passed, and my world shattered in an instant. I thought he would be there to pick up the pieces, but he wasn’t. Instead, he remarried within a year. The woman he brought into our home, the woman he called his wife, made it clear I wasn’t welcome. My father, too consumed by his new life, let it happen. I remembered the countless nights I cried myself to s

FIONA'S POV.The room was quiet, but my mind refused to follow suit. I tossed and turned in the enormous bed, staring up at the ceiling, hoping sleep would find me. But it didn’t. The emptiness beside me was impossible to ignore. Marcellus’s side of the bed felt cold, a constant reminder that he wasn’t here. I hugged the blanket tighter around myself, but it wasn’t the same. With a frustrated sigh, I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The moonlight streaming through the curtains cast soft shadows across the room. I slipped into a robe and padded quietly to the door, hoping a short walk might calm my restless mind. The hallways were dimly lit, and my bare feet barely made a sound against the floor. But as soon as I turned the corner toward the stairs, two guards stepped forward from the shadows. “Luna,” one of them addressed me respectfully, though his tone was firm. “Alpha Marcellus has ordered that you remain in your room at night. It’s for your safety.” I b

MARCELLUS’ POV.I sat on the edge of the motel bed, my arms crossed, glaring at Raymond as he paced the room. His face was calm, but his words had set my blood boiling. “This is the best way,” Raymond said, his tone firm. “You think leaving her alone, defenseless, is for the best?” I snapped, my voice low but filled with anger. “Do you have any idea what could happen if this goes wrong?” Raymond stopped and faced me, his hands on his hips. “Do you think I don’t care? Marcellus, I’ve been with you for years. I’ve watched over this pack as much as you have. But there’s no other way to draw them out. Elder Thomas isn’t working alone, and you know it.” I clenched my jaw, trying to contain my frustration. “You said there were rats in the pack house. We should have dealt with them. Not played this game of waiting.” Raymond sighed, rubbing his temples. “And risk tipping them off? You know how these people work. If they even suspect we’re onto them, they’ll go into hiding, and we’ll

LENA'S POV.I sat in the dimly lit cabin, my legs curled beneath me as the weight of the silence pressed down like a heavy blanket. The men my father had sent to escort me sat scattered around the room, speaking in hushed tones. Their conversation grated on my nerves, reminding me of how restless I’d become. The plan was simple. Father was supposed to meet us here. Yet hours had passed, and there was no sign of him. The sinking feeling in my chest grew heavier with every passing minute. I glanced toward the door for the hundredth time, hoping—praying—that it would swing open and he would walk through, wearing that stern expression that somehow always made me feel like everything would be okay. “Where is he?” I finally snapped, my voice breaking the uneasy silence. The men turned to look at me, their expressions unreadable. “He’ll be here soon, Miss Lena,” one of them said, though his voice lacked conviction. I clenched my fists, biting back the urge to lash out. “He said he

FIONA'S POV.This wasn’t my room. The walls were painted in a soft, pastel color, a far cry from the dark, masculine tones of Marcellus’ quarters. Cream-colored curtains framed the windows, their delicate fabric fluttering slightly in the breeze. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table, filling the room with a sweet aroma. I glanced down at the bedspread—a soft blush pink quilt with intricate stitching, something that spoke of care and detail. This was definitely not Marcellus’ usual style. “Where am I?” I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse from sleep. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I took in more of the changes. The heavy furniture that once dominated the room had been replaced or rearranged to make the space feel more open and more inviting. A plush armchair sat near the window, draped with a cozy throw blanket, and a small vanity stood in the corner, its surface adorned with a silver brush set and a crystal perfume bottle. It was beautiful. I stoo