Chapter 147: Old friends

The staff began to filter out quietly, exchanging glances that clearly meant they had plenty to discuss, but knew better than to do so right now. The head housekeeper lingered longer than the rest. She looked at me, then at Matthias, and finally back to me.

"Alpha Magnus," she said at last in a steady voice, addressing Magnus while her eyes remained fixed on our son. "The nursery is fully prepared. Everything has been done exactly as you instructed."

"Excellent."

She gave a polite nod and departed, closing the heavy doors firmly behind her.

"Dad, is there anything to eat around here? I’m hungry as a dragon," Matthias squirmed in his father’s arms, poking Magnus’s shoulder with a tiny finger.

"As a dragon?" Magnus turned his head toward him. There was a faint, almost imperceptible warmth in his tone that made my throat tighten, bringing a vivid memory straight to mind—the sprawling tattoo of a dragon with unfurled wings stretching across my mate’s back.

"Yeah! They’re huge, so they always want to eat. Grampa Adam read it to me in a book."

"We’ll find you some food."

Magnus set him down on the floor, and Matthias immediately slipped his small hand into his father’s palm. Stepping forward with total self-importance, he marched alongside Magnus, clearly believing he was the one taking his father to the kitchen.

I followed behind, keeping my eyes on their backs. It struck me how identical they were in the smallest ways—the proud carriage of their heads, the matching rhythm of their stride. My heart pulled with a quiet ache at their resemblance, at all the lost years between them, and at the fragile hope of what we might still rebuild.

In the kitchen, a young maid was already busying herself. When she saw us enter, she froze for a split second before quickly regaining her composure and returning to her work. Matthias promptly scrambled onto a high stool at the island, swinging his legs with eager curiosity as he looked around.

"Where is Adam?" I asked, realizing only now that he hadn’t shown up at the staff assembly or followed us inside. "And Derek?"

"Adam left to meet an old friend," Magnus reached across the counter for a bowl of fresh fruit, sliding it closer to Matthias. "He’ll be back by evening."

"And Derek?"

Magnus didn’t answer right away. He picked up his cup of coffee, took a slow sip, and set it back down.

The pantry door clicked open, and Derek stepped into the kitchen holding a box of cookies. My gaze locked on his face instantly—a deep, fresh bruise shadowed his left eye, and his cheekbone was painfully swollen. He caught my eye for a fraction of a second and offered a faint, lopsided smirk that twitched with pain.

My stomach twisted into a tight knot.

I knew who had done that to him. Magnus’s guards would have had no trouble catching him when we fled the territory five weeks ago. And judging by the fact that I was standing here now, Derek had eventually talked.

"Derek..." I murmured softly.

"It’s fine," he cut in smoothly, looking away as he placed the box of cookies in front of Matthias. His tone was light, but I could hear the heavy thread of guilt and exhaustion beneath it. "I’m okay."

Matthias reached into the box for a cookie, and I let him, needing a second to swallow down the surge of guilt rising in my throat. I turned to Magnus. He was staring straight ahead, his face an unreadable mask of iron calm.

"Your men did that to him," I said softly, keeping my voice low enough so only he would hear.

"Yes," Magnus replied flatly, without a shred of denial.

"He helped me save our son."

The silence that fell between us was suffocatingly heavy.

"I know. That’s the only reason he’s standing here and still breathing," Magnus said, setting his coffee cup down on the counter before turning his gaze onto Derek. He studied the young man in silence for a few long seconds. "Your medical expenses will be fully covered by my estate. But you know the rules here, Derek."

Derek raised his eyes. Something flickered in his expression—not gratitude, but rather a quiet, sober acknowledgment of the balance restored. Then, he gave a crisp nod.

Magnus stepped up behind me, resting his broad hands on my shoulders and squeezing gently—perhaps trying to pull my focus away from the bruising on Derek’s face.

Leaning down, he murmured into my ear so softly that only I could hear:

"Do you want to see some old friends?"

***

I stared at the two-story café, unable to believe my eyes. It had expanded. The Rabbit Café had grown so much. A warm, bittersweet ache bloomed in my chest—I still remembered it when it was small and cramped, with just a couple of enclosures and a handful of tables.

"Mom, what’s in there? Are there bunnies? Like Peachfuzz, right?" Matthias pulled on my hand, completely captivated by the glowing neon sign of a rabbit holding a carrot. Taking a deep breath, I finally gathered the courage to step inside.

Magnus had let us go with three security vehicles following close behind. The guards were hulking, silent men who looked more like killing machines than human beings. He had explained that some were humans while others were werewolves to ensure absolute security, and I hadn’t argued.

First, I technically didn’t exist anymore—my documents were top-tier fakes crafted by lower-city counterfeiters, and if I were ever caught, the consequences would be severe. Second, I had a child with me. And third, I was still terrified of strangers.

During the five years I lived in the lower city, some males had tried to attack me on three separate occasions when their instincts snapped. The memory of my university professor was still burned into my mind. I could still recall his attempt to hurt me—and what Magnus had done to him afterward.