Yara (Five Years Later)
"Oliver… quiet."
My voice came out barely above a whisper as I reached for the small bag on the table, my fingers brushing against the worn fabric before gripping it tightly. It held a few bag of blood I was able to get from the animal I caught yesterday.
"I'm not going, Mom," Oliver said loudly behind me, making me jump.
I spun around to face him, anger flashing across my face.
"Be quiet! You don't want to wake your aunt Onyx," I snapped through gritted teeth.
"I want her to wake up," he shot back, his eyes glowing red. "But she won't—because you gave her too much of that potion."
I flinched. Guilt twisted in my chest as my gaze flicked toward the door at the end of the hall. It was Onyx's room.
I had dragged her there myself after she collapsed. After she drank the tea I made that was laced with the sleeping potion she had taught me to brew.
If she had known I would one day use it against her, she never would have taught me.
I only gave her that much because she's powerful. There are always protection spells around her, always something guarding her. I couldn't risk her waking up before we left.
I bent down until I was at eye level with Oliver. He looked so much like his father it hurt. Golden hair with brown highlights. Vivid green eyes they were sharp, observant and stubborn.
Darius would love him. That much, I was sure of and that was why we would be making this trip even if Oliver didn't want us to.
"Oliver," I said, more controlled now, "I know you hate your father, but he's the only one who can help us right now."
"I have magic. I can keep us safe, Mother."
He lifted his hand and flames burst to life in his palm. I smacked his hand down immediately.
"You absolutely cannot do that in public. Remember?"
He said nothing. Just stared at me with that same stubborn, unyielding expression.
So much like him. If only he looked like me… raising him would have been easier.
"Remember?" I pressed, my voice firmer.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
"Nobody can know what you are," I said. "Not about having magic. Not about being vampire blood. You are just a werewolf where we're going. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said quietly, his expression dimming.
"Good boy."
I ruffled his hair, then took his small hand in mine as I stood. We walked out together, and I slowly shut the door behind us.
I didn't look back.
"Come on," I whispered, hurrying him along as we ran toward my car parked behind the house.
It was the middle of the night. No lights. The moon hung half-full in the sky, dim and distant, with no stars to soften the darkness.
It was perfect for escape.
I opened the back door and helped Oliver into his car seat—the one he absolutely detested.
"I don't need this," he muttered like he always did.
"You do," I said firmly, strapping him in.
I'd rather have him uncomfortable than dead in the middle of a pursuit.
And that had been our life since the day Darius rejected and banished me from his pack after I was falsely accused.
Running, hiding and fighting hard to survive.
I never did get my memory back—never remembered what truly happened the day I went on that run and ended up in the Truce Lands.
But one thing I was certain of is that I didn't kill those vampires.
Since Onyx found me and told me I was pregnant, we hadn't stopped moving. Not once. We never stayed in one place for more than a month before we were on the move again.
It was tiring. I was tired. Oliver was five but he wasn't living like a regular five year old. It hurts my heart to see him this way.
Most times I wished he was never born. I wished I had only myself to protect.
I wish I hadn't gone for that run that day because my blood spilled on the Truce land was the beckon that drew every supernatural creature that's been looking for traces of my lineage.
According to Onyx, I was the last descendant of a powerful bloodline. My blood wasn't just valuable, it was dangerous.
It could be used in a ritual. One that would grant whoever sacrificed me the power to live forever… and command all supernatural beings.
But then I got pregnant and just like that, I was no longer the last descendant.
It was my son.
A child Darius had always wanted. An heir. And yet,
cast me aside before he even knew Oliver existed.
I absolutely hated the idea of going back to Darius. To the man who didn't think twice before cutting me off.
To the man who got married exactly two weeks after he banished me.
And to a woman who was the complete opposite of everything I was.
His new wife was the daughter of a powerful Alpha.
I was a hunted woman with no name. She was blonde, blue-eyed, polished. I was dark-haired, sharp-edged, and surviving.
She was refined. I was… what was left.
I didn't even find out about the marriage until a year later. Oliver was barely two months old. I cried for days. With him in my arms, crying with me.
Not just because of the betrayal, but because that was the same day I discovered the truth about my son.
Oliver wasn't just a werewolf. He was tri-blooded. A wolf, witch and a vampire.
The realization had shattered me. How was that even possible? Where could the vampire blood have come from?
Onyx said it confirmed everything the prophecy foretold. But I didn't have the luxury of breaking. I wiped my tears. And I chose my child.
He needed a strong mother. Not a woman still grieving a man who had already replaced her.
So I told Onyx to teach me everything she had been begging to teach me since the day she found me.
She unlocked the magic buried inside me— the power my mother had sealed away years ago.
And I trained every day until I stopped feeling helpless. Until I became something else. Something stronger.
By the time the statute of limitations on my crime passed and the vampires still hadn't caught me, I realized something worse.
This life—running, hiding, struggling to survive—was no life for a child.
Oliver was only three by then, yet he already understood too much. He knew we were being hunted. He was always looking over his shoulder when we stepped outside. Always jumpy at every little sound.
He learned not to cry because it could give our location away when we were hiding. Learned what to grab so we could evacuate quickly when we were discovered.
So Onyx started training him too. And before long, my son wasn't just hiding beside me—he was fighting with us.
He was stronger than his age. It was rare for werewolves to get their wolves before eighteen, but he got his at two. He could already perform complicated spells that took me months to learn—in a single day.
And his vampire side…
That scared me more than I ever wanted to admit.
He craved blood constantly. I started hunting animals just to satisfy him.
When I brought up the idea of going back to Darius, Onyx refused vehemently. And I understood why.
Darius might want an heir—his new wife had been unable to give him one—but that didn't mean he would accept Oliver. Especially not when Oliver wasn't a pure werewolf.
That was why I had drilled it into him. He could never tell anyone what he truly was. Not even his father.
I didn't care if Darius had a wife now. I didn't care if she wouldn't be happy about Oliver's existence.
If I had managed to keep him alive while the entire supernatural world hunted us then I could protect him from one woman.
As the car drew closer to the entrance of Darius' pack, my heart rate picked up. The last place we stayed hadn't been far—just a two-hour drive.
Close enough for safety. Close enough for me to watch.
It was something I had convinced Onyx of.
And since I hadn't mentioned taking Oliver to his father in two years, she hadn't suspected anything.
"I hate him." Oliver's voice came from the backseat, quiet but firm.
I glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
He had heard everything. Every conversation, every argument. Even the day Onyx and I fought about this. And he had put the pieces together on his own about what happened between Darius and I.
"Don't hate your father for what he did to me," I said. "He will be a good father to you."
"I don't want him to be my father," Oliver replied without hesitation. "If we stayed in one place long enough, you could just find another husband."
I let out a quiet breath. Too wise for his age. I hated it sometimes, but most of the time, I didn't. Because it made this life easier as I didn't have to explain everything.
"We're here already. Oliver, remember what I said. Nobody can know you're anything but a werewolf. Not even your father. We'll be seen as enemies… and killed."
I met his gaze through the rearview mirror.
"Do you want your mother to die?"
"No."
"Good. I don't want you to die either."
A flashlight snapped on, cutting through the windshield and blinding me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.
"Who's there?" a male voice barked—one of the border patrol guards. "Step out of the car and put your hands in the air."