Chapter 92: A Future Worth Fighting for

Della was ready to start digging her nails into her palms again, but thankfully her palms were resting against her belly, subconsciously stopping her from doing it.

Hearing his name out loud made her rage flare again. And the funny thing about the rage was that it was mostly directed at her, not him.

Because hearing his name also made her heart leap from her chest, and she loathed the feeling with every fibre of her being.

"The Pack," She managed tightly, unable to keep the nervousness from her voice.

Annelise glanced at her and saw the struggle in her eyes. She patted her leg twice — an effort to assure or calm her down — but she was pretty sure Della didn’t even know she had touched her from the way her body was so stiff.

"The Pack...," Annelise drawled, feeling Della freeze harder, "aren’t happy with what happened,"

Della finally looked at Annelise, impatiently waiting for more from the way her eyes were vibrating.

"They want you dead, Della," She explained bluntly, not knowing any other way to put it that would hurt her less, "They cannot accept the fact that you’re still alive and breathing. They are scared of what you would do,"

Della looked down at her palm this time.

Scared of what she would do?

She didn’t have her powers anymore, so what could she possibly do to them?

Asteria was still fast asleep inside of her, so silent that Della sometimes doubted if all that happened that night hadn’t just been one hell of a dream.

"Do you think they’ll send someone after me?" Della asked again.

"They already did," Annelise replied, and she looked at Della again, directly in the eye. The flat look in her eyes told her everything she needed to know, leaving Della seconds away from possibly hurting herself again.

Thank God for her pregnancy.

"Malachi," Della whispered to herself, looking straight ahead.

They had asked Malachi to come after her and kill her. This must have happened that same night, so why wasn’t he here yet?! If everyone in the world doesn’t know her whereabouts, Malachi would always be the only exception.

He always knows.

He’d shown her the path himself that night. Let her walk away.

"Yes," Annelise replied.

"That means we aren’t safe here," Della said, "He could come here at any time. He could...find me, and you’d also be in trouble,"

"I highly doubt that," Annelise said.

"Why?"

Annelise had promised Rowan she wouldn’t tell Della anything, but giving another excuse about this would erase the worry. If Della wasn’t assured, she would remain on the tip of her toes every second of the day, thinking Malachi was coming after her.

"Because he was the one who helped you,"

Della paused, her heartbeat stuttering for one second. She looked at Annelise in disbelief, "I don’t understand,"

"Malachi... didn’t just let you go that night, Della," Annelise explained again, "He’s also been protecting you...in his own way,"

Della waited for more.

She wasn’t comprehending this at all.

"You see, for the past two weeks the Pack hasn’t been...at peace. Everyone, especially the council elders, keeps bugging him to come after you. They need your head as proof that you’re dead. Malachi...has been subduing them for as long as he can,"

Della’s eyes were wide the whole time.

That was... enlightening.

But why is Malachi holding back from coming after her? After all, he wanted her dead, too.

As she thought of what it could be, her thoughts drifted to that night in the forest.

When his eyes had fallen to the hand resting on her stomach, and the strange ache she had witnessed crossed his usually cold gaze.

Wait...did he figure out that she was pregnant with his child? Is that why he has been protecting her?

She clasped her hands together tightly.

That could be it.

He’s not protecting her because he wants to. He’s doing it because he suspects, or even knows, that she’s carrying his child. And Malachi would never hurt anyone he believes is innocent.

That’s the only possible reason as to why he was sparing her life.

"What are you thinking about?" Annelise asked, as she had watched the emotions chase after one another all over Della’s face.

"I’m just wondering how I’m going to survive with my child," She replied softly, "I understand that Malachi is only delaying my death because he believes I’m pregnant. So I was thinking...of what I would do after I give birth. Run away with the baby so he never finds me?" She paused for a second, wondering if she would ever be free from Malachi with this collar still around her neck, "I don’t want to get separated from my child,"

Her thoughts were conflicting with one another, and they were making her emotional.

"You know something?" Della sniffed, "Sometimes, I try to convince myself that I would let my baby grow up without me. I would try and convince myself that I don’t even want her to know that her mother was a rotblood, or the thought alone might freak her out badly. I tell myself that I want her to grow up loved, cherished, respected, and wanted. I want her to have all the things I never did," Della stopped to inhale deeply, tears running down her face so much now, "But at the same time," She touched her belly again, and the flutter answered her, "I can’t think of anyone who would love or want her as much as I do,"

"Oh, Della," Annelise said softly, her voice wavering as tears prickled the back of her eyes too.

"She makes me want to keep living," Della’s voice was quavering badly, "I want to be by her side and watch her grow up. I can’t imagine—"

The tears finally won, and Della broke down completely.

Annelise pulled her into her arms, and they both broke down heavily.

"I don’t know how to protect her..."

"You don’t have to know everything today."

Della buried her face against Annelise’s shoulder, crying harder than the night she had been condemned on the altar.

For her mother.

For the mate who had broken her.

For the Pack that wanted her dead.

For the life she had never been allowed to live.

Months of terror, grief, loneliness and exhaustion poured out of her until there was nothing left to hold inside.

Annelise never once asked her to stop.

She simply held her while the afternoon drifted quietly into evening.

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