Chapter 82

Clara

The night was late, and I was restless. Anticipation for presenting Damon with my gift the next day kept me awake. Frustration simmered within me, so I tossed off my blanket and left the room.

I didn't worry about encountering Luca again. If he impeded my path, I would forcefully brush him aside and defend myself. I descended the stairs, finding no trace of him.

Determined, I stormed into Damon's study. Just as I was about to demand an explanation for his repeatedly postponed meeting, my gaze fell upon him. Beneath his handsome exterior, a weariness rarely seen graced his face. His eyes looked tired, and his shoulders slumped. I immediately wanted to comfort him, but I paused to catch my breath. Even the bright office lights couldn't hide his stress.

His gaze shifted, but he couldn't quite conceal his exhaustion and frustration at not finding the source of the explosion. He was my husband; I knew what he was feeling.

"Damon," I called softly.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Why don't you take a break? I promise it'll help," I said, taking a step closer.

He nodded. "I'll try."

"You don't need to try, you have to," I insisted.

A weak smile touched his lips, and he nodded, seeming genuinely receptive.

"Fine. I'll take a break. We'll spend time together later tonight," he said, and I felt relief wash over me. I beamed at him.

"Thank you, Damon," I said, letting his name linger as I placed a small box on the table. "I hope you like your gift."

His smile widened instantly.

"A gift?"

"Yeah," I murmured. "You've been working so hard."

He smiled and nodded, already approving.

His eyes danced around me, and he was breathtaking.

"I'll leave you to rest now," I said, though I had no intention of leaving.

"Okay," he mumbled.

I skipped back to my room. I hoped Damon liked the gift—a small necklace with his initials, matching mine. I wasn't sleepy and didn't want to go back to bed unless Damon came, as promised. I needed something to distract me.

Just as I was about to slip out, Gwen and her brothers appeared.

"Where are you going?" Steven demanded.

"Outside," I replied.

"You're not allowed to go anywhere alone!" Gwen yelled. My guards immediately surrounded me.

"Gwen," I warned, and she lowered her head.

"Alpha's orders," she murmured. I sighed and left the house with the security detail. I was pleased Gwen, Steven, and Nate had decided to accompany me on my evening stroll—a first.

As we walked toward the pack, we talked. I felt uneasy, though. Despite trying to engage in Steven's conversation, I couldn't shake the image of my previous visit to the pack, when I was accused of kidnapping a child.

Returning my attention to the conversation, I saw the same woman who had made the accusation. I almost thought it was my imagination, but it was her. Why did she seem so suspicious? And why wasn't she with her child?

Gwen and her brothers were engrossed in their conversation, unaware of my silence. My guards, equally distracted, didn't notice me slipping away to follow the woman.

She walked quickly, and I had to hurry to keep up. [The sentence "ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org" is not part of the narrative and should be removed.]

Where was her child?

The sound of a baby crying made me turn. My eyes fell on a stroller; a small arm waved in the air. I gasped. The little boy was restrained, unable to escape, and crying loudly. My heart sank as I saw the stroller rolling toward a river. I felt faint.

I screamed and ran, desperate to reach the stroller. I can't swim, but I didn't care. The stroller fell in before I could reach it, and I plunged in without thinking.

The poor little boy!

I struggled to breathe, my lungs burning. The weight of my clothes pulled me down, filling me with terror. Then, adrenaline surged. I saw the boy still sobbing; luckily, the stroller was afloat, his limbs flailing. I tried to reach him, but the current was too strong. I tried to yell for help, but water filled my mouth, silencing me.

I slipped beneath the surface, my only thought for the baby's safety. In moments of trouble, a glimmer of hope always appeared. Just as I was giving up, a hand grasped my arm, pulling me from the river.

Blurrily, I saw Damon. His eyes burned with anger—he was furious. He swam to shore with me in his arms. I collapsed, panting and coughing, then it hit me.

"The little boy!" I yelled, pointing. Damon groaned.

"Clara…"

"Damon, it's a child!" I screamed. He sighed and dove back in.

Gwen and the others rushed to me, wrapping me in a thick coat. I watched silently as Damon, holding the stroller, swam back to shore. Despite struggling for breath, I cried when he pulled the little boy into his arms. The image was perfect. Damon had saved me and a child, and it was overwhelming.