Avenging Luna
Chapter 102: Truce

Chapter 102: Truce

Leila POV:

Thank the Moon Goddess that Harry didn’t blow my cover. I knew throwing him under the bus like that wasn’t fair, but it was the only way he’d go along with this insane plan. As soon as Drake left, I sank back into the bed, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. This had to work. It was my only chance to catch Lily red-handed.

Later that day, Dr. Harry returned, but he wasn’t alone. A young woman with a calm, professional demeanor followed him, her expression a mix of determination and understanding.

"Luna, this is Nurse Ann," Dr. Harry said, his voice steady as he closed the door behind them. "I’ve explained everything to her. She’ll be taking over as your primary nurse, monitoring your condition closely so we can... uphold the appearance."

I nodded, trying to show them both the gratitude I felt. "Thank you both. I know this is risky, but it’s the only way."

Ann stepped forward, her gaze softening. "Luna, I just want you to know I’m fully committed. We’ll make sure no harm comes to you, and I’ll be here whenever you need support. For now, I’ll give you a mild injection that will induce a bit of nausea. It won’t harm you, but it’ll make the symptoms look convincing."

I took a deep breath, nodding. "I’m ready. Let’s do this."

She prepared the injection, her movements precise and steady. I watched as she swabbed my arm, and a moment later, a sharp prick broke the surface of my skin. I felt the medicine start to take effect almost immediately—an uncomfortable churning sensation in my stomach.

Dr. Harry gave me an encouraging nod. "You’ve got this, Luna. Just let the symptoms take over. We’ll keep you in here and monitor you closely so it seems believable. When the time is right, we’ll move forward with the next phase."

I managed a small smile, clutching the thin hospital sheets as a wave of nausea began to rise. It felt so real, and I knew anyone who saw me like this would believe I was truly sick. Now all I had to do was wait. Lily couldn’t resist a moment like this, and when she showed up, I’d be ready. She wanted me gone—and if she thought I was on death’s door, I knew she’d be too tempted not to gloat.

This time, I’d be ready to catch her once and for all.

Dr. Harry looked at me intently, his voice lowering as he leaned closer. "Luna, if we’re going to make this convincing, we’ll need to give it a name. There’s an illness—**Lupine Decay Syndrome**—that’s rare but highly dangerous for wolves. It deteriorates the body slowly, weakening your wolf’s bond and making it hard to recover."

He paused, his face solemn. "We’ll use it as the reason behind your symptoms, and we’ll let the pack believe it’s what’s causing your weakness. If Drake comes asking questions, I’ll tell him it’s advanced enough that your body is struggling to fight it."

I nodded, absorbing the gravity of what he was saying. "And... will he believe that? He won’t question it?"

Dr. Harry gave a small, reassuring nod. "Yes. Lupine Decay Syndrome is feared because it’s irreversible in most cases, and its symptoms align well with what Nurse Ann will help simulate. The nausea, the weakness—it’ll all seem authentic."

I took a shaky breath, thinking about how Drake would react when he heard. Would he feel guilty? Would he even care after everything? This rift between us had already driven a wedge so deep, and part of me was afraid he’d just see this as more of my fault. But if it meant drawing Lily out, it was worth it.

"Thank you, Dr. Harry," I said quietly. "This... it’s a huge risk for both of you. I know that."

He softened a bit, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You’re my Luna, and as a doctor, I believe in finding the truth. Let’s hope this plan gives you the justice you deserve."

As he and Nurse Ann left to prepare the paperwork and notify the pack, I braced myself, knowing that soon everyone—Drake included—would believe I was dying from this deadly illness. If I played my part right, Lily would feel triumphant, confident enough to slip up and reveal her true intentions. This was the only chance I had left.

Drake POV:

As I returned home from my run, feeling the strain in my legs and the chill of the evening air seeping through my skin, a sense of exhaustion washed over me. It wasn’t just physical fatigue—it was emotional, a soul-deep weariness that only seemed to grow as I neared home. Leila’s words echoed in my mind, each one laced with the bitterness of the tension between us. I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not while we were still tangled in this web of pain and distrust.

Steeling myself, I headed into the kitchen and began gathering the ingredients to make her favorite dish. I knew her tastes well, every ingredient and subtle spice that would bring her comfort. I worked with a focus I hadn’t felt in days, trying to channel my love and apologies into each slice and stir. If she was willing to hear me out, I wanted to show her—no, prove to her—that I could be the mate she needed. And if it meant staying up all night with her by her side, if it meant fighting every inch of this illness, then so be it.

When the food was finished and neatly packed, I glanced at the clock and decided to make a quick detour on my way back to the hospital. I stopped by the florist, picking out a bouquet of her favorite flowers, delicate yet vibrant, the kind she’d always light up when receiving. I added a box of chocolates to the mix, hoping that these small gestures would speak the words that felt too fragile to say.

The moment I walked back into the hospital and toward her room, I felt a lump form in my throat. I stood just outside her door, my hand hovering above the doorknob, trying to gather the courage to face her. To see her lying there, to look into her eyes that might still hold distrust and pain, felt unbearable. But I couldn’t put this off any longer.

Finally, I pushed the door open, stepping in quietly. Leila was lying on her bed, her gaze fixed on the window. She looked so small, so fragile, with her face pale and her body slightly curled. I felt a pang in my heart, realizing just how close I had come to losing her—how close we both were to losing everything.

"Leila," I said softly, placing the tray on the small table beside her bed. She turned slowly, her gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the love we once shared. It was faint, a shadow behind the weariness in her eyes, but it was enough.

"I... I brought you some food," I continued, my voice cracking slightly. "Your favorite. And flowers. I thought they might... brighten things up a bit."

She looked at the flowers and the chocolates, then back at me, her expression unreadable. She didn’t say anything, but the silence felt almost comforting, like a hesitant step towards a fragile truce.

"Leila," I whispered, stepping closer and sitting beside her, taking her hand in mine. "I know we’ve been through so much lately. And I know... I know I let you down. I should have trusted you, I should have listened. But please... please don’t push me away. I’m not ready to lose you. I can’t."

She looked at me, her eyes softening just a little as she squeezed my hand, though I could see the conflict still warring within her.

"I want you to know that I’m here for you, for however long you need me. I’ll stay by your side, every moment. I’ll find a way to cure this, Leila. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll fight for you with everything I have." My voice was barely a whisper by the end, the words breaking under the weight of my emotions.

Leila looked away, gazing down at our joined hands. "Drake, I... I don’t want us to spend whatever time I have left fighting," she said softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that broke me. "We both deserve better than that."

Hearing her say it, hearing the resignation in her voice, brought tears to my eyes. But I quickly wiped them away, not wanting to show weakness when she needed strength. I was supposed to be her support, her anchor. I leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand, as though the gesture could somehow convey all the apologies, all the love I held for her.

"Then let’s make these moments count, Leila," I said, barely managing to keep my voice steady. "Let’s make them beautiful, not broken."

She nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips, a hint of forgiveness that filled me with hope. I moved the tray of food closer, helping her to sit up slightly and offering her a spoonful of her favorite dish. She ate a few bites, and though she was quiet, I felt her walls softening, just a little.

As the night wore on, I stayed beside her, holding her hand, whispering reassurances whenever I felt her grip tighten. I kept telling her stories, reminding her of our favorite memories, hoping that if I brought enough light into the room, I could chase away the darkness hanging over us. Occasionally, she’d smile faintly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still glimmering with something close to hope.

Hours passed, and I didn’t leave her side. I watched her breathing grow softer, each breath shallow, and I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me. Her heart rate on the monitor wavered, her pulse weakening at times, and every dip made my own heart race in fear. But each time, I steadied myself, squeezing her hand and whispering that I was right there with her.

At one point, she began to feel nauseous, her body betraying her with waves of sickness. I held her, doing my best to comfort her as she struggled, wiping her forehead and whispering soft words of encouragement, promising that we would get through this.

I stayed awake with her the whole night, watching over her, refusing to let go of her hand. Every time her breathing grew shallow, I whispered softly to her, gently rubbing her hand and telling her how much I loved her, how much I needed her.