Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 254

Leah's POV

The air down there was damp, thick with the musk of captivity. Darren was curled on a filthy mattress, his wrists and ankles chained, his body a knot of tension. The clink of my tray against the stone floor roused him, and his eyes snapped open - wild, burning with a madness that made my chest ache. He lunged, a beast in human skin, all teeth and fury, but the chains yanked him back, the iron biting into his flesh. A guttural snarl tore from his throat, and his face twisted, feral, unrecognizable.

I slid the tray toward him, the pancakes still warm, their sweetness a mockery in this place. He froze, nostrils flaring, then dropped to his knees, his face hovering over the plate. He ate like a starved dog, tearing at the food, growling low, the sound vibrating through the stone. I sat a few feet away, watching him, my heart splintering. I wanted to reach for him, to smooth the matted hair from his face, to touch the man he used to be. My hand lifted, trembling, but his head snapped up, eyes locking on mine - wary, predatory, like I was prey.

I froze, my breath shallow. "Eat it," I whispered, my voice soft, coaxing. "Slowly."

He didn't listen. He devoured the pancakes, crumbs scattering, and when I picked up the milk bowl, his gaze followed, sharp and untrusting. "I'll feed you, okay?" I said, my voice barely above a breath. "Don't be afraid."

His lips trembled, and I scooped a spoonful of milk, holding it out. He hesitated, then leaned forward, his mouth closing around the spoon, slow, tentative. But then he snapped - lunged for the bowl, knocking it against my hands, drinking in frantic gulps. Milk spilled, dripping down my fingers, and when the bowl was empty, he found the drops on my skin. His tongue rasped against my hand, greedy, desperate, and my body burned, a traitor to itself.

A growl rumbled from him, and then pain - sharp, sudden - as his teeth sank into my hand. Blood welled, hot and red, but I didn't pull away. I couldn't feel the bite, not really, but my heart cracked, a quiet, private breaking. With my free hand, I reached for him, fingers brushing his hair, soft despite the filth. I leaned closer, pressing his hand to my belly. "Darren," I whispered, my voice thick, "I'm pregnant with your baby."

He froze, his teeth still in my skin, his breath ragged. "Our baby," I said again, softer, my lips near his ear. "We're going to have a baby."

He roared, shoving me back, his strength wild and unhinged. The tray tipped, plates and bowls shattering across the floor. His chains rattled, veins bulging in his neck, my blood staining his mouth. He looked like a wounded animal, cornered and raging. I didn't flinch. I gathered the broken pieces, my hands steady despite the storm in my chest. The wound on my hand was already closing, my body knitting itself back together, but the ache inside stayed.

"Darren," I said, my voice low, firm. "I will find a cure for you. Then, I'll give birth to your child, and my time will come."

He didn't answer, just glared, his chest heaving. I stood, tray in hand, and left the basement, the weight of his madness clinging to me like damp air.

Liam's POV

A sharp crash clawed its way up from the basement, jagged as broken bones hitting stone. My pulse kicked hard, and I was already moving, boots pounding the floor, dread sinking its teeth into my gut. I hit the basement door fast, shoving it wide, and there she was - Leah, hands slick with blood, crimson streaking her skin like war paint. Shattered plates and bowls lay sprawled across a dented tray at her feet, their edges glinting like fangs in the murk. "Boss, what's wrong with you? Are you injured?" I snapped, voice rough, eyes raking her for wounds.

She shook her head, slow, like it cost her something. "I'm fine," she rasped, but the words barely landed before her legs buckled. She pitched forward, and I lunged, catching her hard against my chest. Her frame felt too damn light, trembling under my grip. Panic gnawed at me, sharp and feral. "Boss, are you okay? Do I haul you to the hospital?" I pressed, my hold tightening as her head lolled against my shoulder. Warmth seeped through my shirt - silent tears, soaking in like blood.

I pried the tray from her shaking fingers, its weight cold and awkward in my hand. With one arm, I scooped her up, her body slack against mine, fragile in a way that didn't fit her.

Seth stumbled into view then, eyes wide, frozen like a deer in the glare of a hunter's torch. His brain looked ready to choke on itself, useless as ever. I shoved the tray at him, metal clanging. "Hold this," I growled, not waiting for his fumbling hands to catch it before I turned, Leah cradled tight, and stormed toward the living room.

I set her down on the sofa, cushions swallowing her slight form. She crumpled against my chest, and the dam broke - sobs tore out of her, raw and ragged, shaking her shoulders like a storm. Seth trailed after us, still clutching the tray, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Is this the period thing? Or the pregnant thing?" he stammered, voice cracking like thin ice.

I whipped my head around, glare cutting through him, and dragged my hand across my neck in a sharp slash - shut up, get out, now. He flinched, backed off fast, the tray rattling in his grip. I turned back to Leah, her cries still clawing at the air, and stayed there, solid as stone, letting her break against me.

What have you been through, boss?

What can I do to shield you from all the pain?