Chapter 486: Sweet boy

Chapter 486

Daphne

I look at the crying white-haired lady through the holographic screen. And close it.

Well. Kai is not going to last any longer in that bond.

The crow on my shoulder tilts its head.

[You underestimate the mate bond of this world, host.]

And you, 404, underestimate the bond between parent and child.

[From this world’s history, there have been instances of wolves choosing the bond over parental affection.]

Really? Wow. What horrible parents.

[Host? When forced to choose, what would be your choice?]

Hey, go look for shiny things like crows do and don’t ask me such things.

[I’m not a real crow.]

Yeah, right. I’ve seen your little stash. I think about the cluster of pretty stones and diamonds deep in my closet.

[I’m just biologically compelled.]

The system flies away and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I didn’t want to answer that question. Deep down, I know the answer. I’ll always pick my beloved first. I do love Lyra—she’s my angel—but when it comes to her mum?

I would cry. But I wouldn’t hesitate.

I do feel guilty when I think of my daughter. But I could have another Lyra but never another Elara. She’s the only one for me.

Feeling guilty for my thoughts, I look for my daughter.

But it’s just a hypothetical. It’ll never happen. But I should still give her the best just in case.

***

Ethan

The maze is everything.

Mirrors everywhere. Fog machines. Strobing lights in purple and green. And me, pressed flat against a cold glass wall, breathing as quietly as I can while three kids from Shadowfang walk past, their vests glowing like easy targets.

I pick them off one by one.

Their vests buzz red. They groan. The referee—some bored wolf in a striped shirt—waves them off toward the exit.

"That’s a triple kill for the Red team!" the speaker crackles.

I do not smile. I never smile in here. This is serious.

The maze swallows sound. Footsteps echo wrong. You hear someone behind you and they are actually in front of you.

I move through the mirror corridor. My vest is still green. My tag count is seventeen.

Seventeen.

There is only one person in this maze who could have that many besides me.

I round a corner. Someone fires. I duck. The shot burns past my shoulder and hits a mirror, scattering red light across my face.

I know that laugh.

Lyra is crouched on top of a fake rock wall, one knee up, gun braced on her forearm like she has done this a hundred times. Which she has. Her hair is a mess. Her eyes are bright. There is a streak of dirt on her cheek from earlier.

Her vest is still green too.

"My, my little alpha, I don’t know why you bother when everyone knows you’re never going to win."

She says it and yawns. Actually yawns. Like I am not even worth the effort of being alert.

"You know what they say about overconfidence," I say, and shoot.

But she rolls easily to the side, the laser passing through empty air where her chest was a second ago. She comes up on one knee, gun already aimed at me, and I barely duck behind a pillar before her shot scorches the wall behind my head.

"Only my confidence comes from ability," she says.

"Ability and a big head," I mutter.

"I heard that."

"Good."

I peek around the corner. She is gone. Vanished into the fog like a ghost.

I hate this maze. I hate the mirrors. I hate the way sound bounces and lies.Which is a lie, because this human game is way more fun than any of our games.

I move carefully, but she is always so silent. You can never hear her coming. Especially in a place like this.

My footsteps are silent on the padded floor. I check every corner. Every reflection. Every shadow.

Nothing.

Then I hear it. A soft breath. To my left.

I spin, gun raised—

She is not there.

"Too slow."

Her voice is right behind me. I feel her breath on my neck. I whirl, but she is already gone, her laugh echoing through the fog.

"You are enjoying this," I say with a growl, angry at being treated as prey when I am the predator.

"Maybe," she says, her voice coming from somewhere to my right.

I immediately turn to shoot.

"Bang."

My vest turns red.

I look up. She is on the ceiling fan. On it. Perched like it is nothing, like gravity does not apply to her, her gun still smoking. Then she drops down, landing in a crouch that barely makes a sound.

How does she do that? Sometimes I find her lying on branches that would snap under a bird’s weight. She just... stays there.

"Trade secret," she says, as if reading the question in my eyes.

"I will get you next time."

"Keep dreaming." She says it with a grin, and skips away into the fog.

I walk out of the building, pulling off my vest and tossing it in the return bin. The other kids scatter too—some grumbling, some laughing, all of them heading toward the snack stands or the next ride.

I look around curiously. This place is bigger than last year. The go-kart track has doubled in size. There is a new roller coaster in the distance, purple and silver, twisting like a snake. There is a whole water section now, with slides that disappear into tunnels.

I am glad Lyra does not hate me. Well—she does not like me either. I do not like her. But we are cordial.

I cannot begin to imagine missing out on this place.

I walk around the back of the laser tag building, checking to see what has changed, what has been added. There is a small garden here, tucked away from the noise, with a bench and a fountain. Quiet. Hidden.

And then I see her.

"Mom?"

She is sitting on the bench alone. She looks up at me, her eyes puffy. She has been crying.

I immediately want to turn around.

But she has already seen me.

I sigh.

And I go sit next to her.

Dad says we should be patient and understanding with her. Dad says she is going through something. Dad says we need to give her time.

I do not know how much time she needs. It has been years.

She is quiet. My feet are restless. I can hear the laughter from the other kids. The music from the rides. The shouts of joy from the go-kart track.

I want to go and play too.

"This place is big," she says.

Oh. That is right. This is her first time here.

"Yes, it is," I say.

She nods. She does not say anything else.

"Do you also think I’m not okay?" she says.

I don’t respond. I’ve learned not to when she gets like this.

"No one understands me, you know. I’ve tried so hard. I get tired too. Am I not allowed to express my emotions?"

I stare at the fountain, the water bubbles and I see a coin at the bottom, reflect the sun.

"I tried," she says. "I tried so hard. To give you a sibling. To give you a family. To give you everything I never had."

Her voice cracks.

"But I could not. My body would not let me."

She presses a hand to her stomach.

"Two of your fathers have children with other women. Two of them. And I have nothing. I have no one."

She looks at me.

"You are all I have, Ethan. You are the only thing I have left."

She reaches for my hand.

"You’re so big now. Soon you’ll be grown up and I’m afraid. My sweet little boy."

"I’m not going anywhere, Mom," I say.

"Yeah." She pulls me into a hug. Her arms are too tight. Her scent is too strong. I feel suffocated.

"You’re right," she whispers against my hair. "Unlike my mates that could leave me, you—my little boy—wouldn’t. You’re a part of me. You’ll never leave me."

I nod in response and she hugs me tighter.

"My good boy," she says. "My sweet, good boy."