Chapter 3 Shock

Rhea stepped outside, got into the car, and fastened her seatbelt. It had only been a few days, but Patrick looked thinner, his features even sharper than before, and his deep-set eyes more striking. It was impossible to look away.

She realized she still loved him, painfully so, and forgetting him felt impossible.

"Here," Patrick said, handing her a small, elegant, dark-blue velvet box.

"A little gift for your new job."

Rhea took it, opening the box to reveal a blue stone necklace. The stone was rare and valuable, a precious sacred werewolf artifacts material, said to ward off curses and misfortune.

She tilted her head, offering a small smile.

"This is a pretty fancy gift. Why'd you get me something so valuable?"

Patrick smiled softly, his gaze fixed on hers.

"You're working with ancient artifacts now, and some of those pieces come from tombs. This should protect you. Here, let me put it on."

As he lifted her hair to fasten the clasp, his fingers brushed the back of her neck, right where his mark was meant to go.

A tiny shiver ran through her, echoing in her chest.

She was always sensitive to his touch.

Thinking of where they stood now, she forced a polite smile. "Maybe don't give me things like this anymore."

Gifts like these made it easy to imagine he still had feelings for her. They stirred up dangerous thoughts, the kind that led to wanting more.

Patrick placed his hands on the steering wheel, his tone casual. "It's just a necklace. Don't read too much into it."

He started the car, and about thirty minutes later, they arrived at the Old Fabian Wolfpack House.

As soon as they stepped inside, Patrick's grandmother, Diane Fabian, hobbled over to them, her face lighting up as she hugged Rhea.

"Oh, my dear! I missed you so much these past few days!"

Rhea felt like Diane was being a bit over the top today.

Smiling, she asked, "Diane, you said you had something important to tell me?"

Diane took her hand and shot Patrick a pointed look.

"Let's have dinner first. We'll talk after dinner."

Dinner was extravagant-a table full of delicacies.

Diane looked at Rhea, her eyes twinkling.

"Three years ago, Patrick had that awful accident. He was in such a bad place, but thank goodness he had you, his fated mate, to help him. Since you two got married, he's healed, and our wolfpack's only grown stronger."

Then, suddenly, Diane covered her mouth, overcome by a fit of coughing.

Rhea rushed to her side, gently patting her back.

When the coughing stopped, Diane took Rhea's hand, looking at her with teary eyes.

"You've been amazing, Rhea. So calm and gentle, sticking by him no matter what. Patrick was a mess those first two years, snapping at everyone, driving out any nurse or helper we hired. But you stayed. You never left his side. If it weren't for you, he might never have made it through."

Diane's eyes filled with tears, and Rhea quickly handed her a tissue.

Patrick's grip on his fork tightened, his gaze deepening as if lost in thought.

With a small sigh, Diane said, "My only wish now is to see you and Patrick happy, with a child of your own."

Rhea felt a flush of embarrassment and glanced at Patrick.

Clearly, he hadn't told Diane they were planning to divorce.

Diane's voice grew weaker.

"I'm getting old; who knows how much longer I have? I just want to see a little one before I go."

Rhea's heart tightened, and she quickly said, "Diane, you're going to live a long, healthy life."

Diane patted her chest, breathing heavily.

"I know my body better than anyone. Eighty years old, I am. My heart's been weak for years." She struggled to her feet. "I need to lie down."

Rhea immediately went to help her to her room.

As they neared the bedroom door, Diane suddenly turned back to Patrick.

"From now on, you two will stay here. Once Rhea is pregnant, you can go back home."

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but Diane was already shuffling into the room, her frail frame moving slowly with each step.

Rhea helped her to bed, being careful not to press too hard and risk hurting her.

Once Diane was settled, she took Rhea's hand.

"I heard you moved back in with your mother. Don't worry. As long as I'm here, there won't be any divorce. Patrick listens to me."

"But-"

"No buts. That Amy may have been there in the good times, but she left when things got tough. A person like that is not fit to be the future Luna of the Fabian Wolfpack. I've never bought into that ridiculous elf-werewolf myth. I've lived long enough to know a good girl when I see one. Our pack is strong enough; we don't need an alliance to survive."

Rhea was deeply moved by Diane's words.

Despite the progress elf-werewolves had made in society, many traditional wolfpacks still held prejudices against them. Pure-blood werewolves preferred to marry within their own kind to maintain the integrity of their bloodlines.

Patrick's father, the Alpha of the Fabian Wolfpack, Ethan Fabian, was a firm believer in these traditions. He had always looked down on Rhea and had hoped that once Patrick recovered, he would reunite with Amy, the pure-blood daughter of the Alpha of the Adams Wolfpack, who he felt was a much better match.

After Diane had fallen asleep, Rhea quietly left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Diane sat up, her energy returning in full force-quite the contrast from her earlier frail demeanour.

After dinner, Rhea and Patrick returned to the guest room.

Once the door was closed, Rhea turned to him.

"So... what now? Are we really supposed to stay here indefinitely?"

Patrick frowned, loosening his tie.

"She's not well. I don't want to upset her. We'll stay for a few days and figure it out later."

Rhea glanced back at the single bed in the room.

"There's only one bed. How are we supposed to sleep?"

Patrick's lips curved into a slight smirk.

"With our eyes closed."

She was starting to get annoyed.

"I'm serious."

Patrick casually removed his watch, setting it on the bedside table. "Go shower. I'll go after you."

"Fine."

Rhea went to the bathroom, quickly washed her face, brushed her teeth, and took a fast shower.

When she returned, Patrick went to shower. She lay in bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind spun with thoughts-about their impending divorce, about the fact that they were sharing a room and bed. It felt surreal.

Suddenly, Patrick's phone, resting on the bedside table, began to ring. Rhea ignored it; she didn't want to invade his privacy.

The call stopped after a few rings. Then her phone rang.

Glancing at the screen, she saw it was an unknown number.

She answered, and a delicate voice asked, "Rhea, is Patrick with you?"

"Who's that?"

The woman paused, then said, "I'm... a friend of his."

Rhea replied, "He's in the shower. I'll tell him to call you back."

"Thank you."

When Patrick came out, he was wrapped in a towel, drying his hair with another. His shoulders were broad, his abs chiseled, and his entire physique seemed to glow in the warm light.

Rhea's heart skipped a beat, and she could feel her cheeks warming as she quickly turned her gaze away.

"A friend of yours called."

He nodded with a simple, "Mm," and picked up his phone before walking out of the room.

When he returned, his expression was dark, his jaw clenched. "Was that on purpose?"

Rhea blinked, confused. "What?"

"Amy tried to kill herself. What did you say to her?"

Her mind went blank for a moment. Then she found her voice.

"I didn't know it was her. She just said she was a friend, so I told her you were in the shower."

Patrick's face remained cold as he opened the closet, pulling out some clothes and getting dressed.

Once ready, he strode to the door.

Diane heard the noise and came out, asking, "Where are you going in the middle of the night?"

"Amy's in the hospital. I'm going to check on her."

Diane raised her voice, calling to Rhea in the guest room.

"Rhea, go with him."

Rhea knew Diane's word was final.

"Okay," she replied, grabbing her coat and following Patrick out.

As they drove, Rhea said, "You can just drop me at a hotel."

Patrick didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Come with me. Explain to Amy what happened."

Her chest tightened, irritation bubbling up. She wasn't one to seek conflict, but she had her limits. It wasn't her fault. What was there to explain?

Sensing her frustration, Patrick reached over, ruffling her hair gently.

"She has severe depression. Please, just this once?"

An hour later, they arrived at the hospital. Amy was lying in bed, her face pale, her hair a tangled mess, her thin frame almost hidden under the blanket.

When Rhea finally saw her face, she was shocked.