Avenging Luna
Chapter 84: The Little Bottle

Chapter 84: The Little Bottle

Leila’s POV:

What the hell is wrong with Drake?

He stormed in without a word, his jaw tight, eyes dark with anger. The intensity of his emotions rippled through our bond, suffocating me with the weight of his fury. It was like a heavy cloud had descended over him, filling the room with its tension. I could feel the pulse of his anger, but I had no idea why. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me. Instead, he started rifling through my things, yanking drawers open with enough force to break them. His movements were sharp, almost frantic.

"Drake?" I called out, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease creeping into my veins. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer me. His face was a storm of emotions as he tore through my belongings, tossing clothes and items onto the floor without a care. His hands were trembling, a sign that whatever was boiling inside him was barely being held back.

I stood up, alarmed. "Drake!" I said, louder this time, moving toward him. "What the hell is going on?"

He finally paused, glancing at me briefly before returning to his search. His eyes were wild, unfocused, as if he couldn’t hear me at all. My stomach knotted with anxiety. Something was seriously wrong.

"Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you just going to tear apart our room?" I demanded, my voice rising in frustration. I hated this—being kept in the dark, not knowing why my mate, the man I trusted with my life, was treating me like I was the enemy.

Still nothing.

I reached for his arm, trying to stop him, but he jerked away from me, his shoulders stiff and unyielding. My heart skipped a beat at the coldness in his reaction. This wasn’t like Drake. The Drake I knew would never push me away like this. Something had triggered him, and whatever it was, it was bad.

He moved toward my dresser next, yanking the bottom drawer out completely, dumping its contents on the floor. My eyes widened in shock as I saw him sifting through my underwear, his hands searching, searching, as if he was looking for something specific.

"Drake!" I shouted, pushing my fear aside and stepping directly in front of him, forcing him to stop. "Talk to me! What the hell are you doing?"

Finally, he froze, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw it. The pain. The fear. He wasn’t just angry. He was terrified. But why?

He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, before speaking, his voice low and strained. "Where is it, Leila?"

I blinked in confusion. "Where is what?"

Then his gaze shifted to the mess of clothes scattered on the floor—specifically, to my underwear drawer, which had been tossed apart in his frantic search. My heart pounded as I saw him freeze, his body going rigid. In his hands, Drake held a small, nearly empty bottle. His eyes, burning with a fiery intensity, were almost glowing red as he stared at the object in disbelief.

My stomach dropped. I didn’t even know what it was. Where had that come from?

"What is this, Leila?" His voice was low and dangerous, the calm before the storm. His hands trembled slightly as he held up the bottle, but his entire body was tight with barely controlled rage.

I felt a chill run down my spine. What was happening? I didn’t recognize the bottle. I had never seen it before. How was this even in my drawer?

"I..." I stammered, my throat tightening. I had no idea what to say. How could I explain something I had no knowledge of? "I don’t know, Drake. I swear, I’ve never seen that before."

His eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was barely holding himself back. "You expect me to believe that?" His voice was a strained whisper, like he was on the verge of snapping. "You don’t know what this is? It was in your drawer, Leila."

I shook my head, feeling my heart race with a mix of confusion and fear. "I have no idea what that is, Drake. I swear to you, I’ve never touched it. I wouldn’t hide something from you, especially something dangerous." My voice cracked as I tried to make him understand. "Please believe me."

But his expression remained dark, his gaze shifting between me and the bottle, the distrust clear in his eyes. It hurt—worse than anything I’d felt before. I could feel our bond straining, the sharp pull of his anger and doubt choking me.

"You’re telling me you’ve never seen this before?" he asked again, his voice louder, shaking now with raw emotion. "This bottle, hidden in your things—wolfbane, Leila. This is wolfbane. Do you know what that means?"

Wolfbane.

The word hung heavy in the air, and the weight of it crushed me. My knees felt weak, and I had to grip the edge of the bed to steady myself. Wolfbane, in our world, was poison—deadly for wolves. How had that ended up in my things? How could he think I was using that? My mind raced, trying to piece it all together.

"Drake, I swear on our bond, I have no idea how that got there." I spoke, desperately trying to convey the truth in my words. "I would never hurt our baby, never. I love this baby, Drake. I would never—"

"Then explain this!" he roared, shaking the bottle at me, his entire body trembling with fury. "If you didn’t put this here, then who did?"

Tears stung my eyes. "I don’t know! I don’t know how it got there. You have to believe me."

But the look on his face—it wasn’t just anger. It was betrayal, deep and cutting, like he was breaking apart inside. He was struggling, fighting with himself to trust me, but the bottle in his hand seemed to be screaming at him that I had done something unforgivable.

"I need the truth, Leila," he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "Tell me the truth before I do something I regret."

"I am telling the truth!" I shouted, my frustration and fear boiling over. "Drake, think about it—why would I risk everything for wolfbane? Why would I hurt our baby, after everything we’ve been through? Why would I betray you like this?"

His eyes stayed locked on mine for a long moment, the air between us thick with tension. For a second, I thought I saw his resolve waver, like he wanted to believe me but couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Then, as if something inside him finally broke, he let out a sharp breath, tossing the bottle onto the bed.

"I want to believe you, Leila," he said, his voice raw, "but I don’t know what to think right now. I trusted you with everything, and now this?"

I stepped closer to him, my voice softening. "Drake, I didn’t do this. I don’t know who did, but I swear to you, someone is trying to set me up. I don’t know why, but this isn’t me."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. "Then who? Who would want to hurt you like this, to make me think you’d... harm our child?"

"I don’t know," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. "But we need to figure it out. Together."

Drake’s shoulders slumped slightly, the tension still radiating off him but muted now, like he was exhausted by the weight of it all. He didn’t respond, just stood there, staring at the floor.

I stepped closer, gently placing my hand on his arm. "Please," I said softly. "Don’t shut me out. We need to get to the bottom of this. I need you to trust me."

He looked up, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I saw the Drake I knew—the one who loved me, the one who would fight for me no matter what. But the doubt was still there, lingering beneath the surface, threatening to tear us apart.

"I don’t know how to fix this," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can’t lose you, Leila. I can’t lose our baby. Not like this."

He closed his eyes, his breath steadying as he leaned into me, but I could still feel the tension in his body. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Whoever had planted that bottle wanted to destroy us, and I had a sinking feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Drake’s voice was softer now, almost pleading, as he took a step closer. His eyes, still clouded with anger and confusion, softened just enough for me to see the raw vulnerability behind them.

"Leila, if something’s wrong—if you don’t want to have the baby—just tell me," he said, his tone filled with a desperation that broke my heart. "We can talk about it. If there’s something you’re struggling with, something you haven’t told me, please let me in. I need to know."

His words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He thought I didn’t want our baby? He thought I was capable of something like that?

Tears welled in my eyes, but this time they weren’t just from fear—they were from the pain of realizing how deep this misunderstanding had gone. How could he even think I’d do something so cruel, so final?

"Drake," I said, my voice cracking, "I love this baby. I would never—never—do anything to hurt them. You know me. How can you even think I’d want to—" I couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too horrible to even say out loud.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze. "I don’t know what to think, Leila. With everything that’s happened... finding this... it just doesn’t make sense." He gestured to the bottle, the evidence that had driven a wedge between us.

"I don’t want to believe it," he continued, "but it’s right here, and I’m scared. Scared that you’re going through something I don’t understand, that maybe you’re keeping something from me."

"I’m not," I insisted, taking a step closer to him. "I swear to you, Drake, I’m not hiding anything. I want this baby. I want us. I don’t know how that bottle got here, but I would never, ever do anything to jeopardize our family."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of a lie, for any crack in my words. I could feel his uncertainty, the war raging inside him between his love for me and the evidence in front of him. It was like he was trying to reconcile two different realities—the one where he trusted me implicitly, and the one where he feared I might have betrayed him in the worst possible way.

"Then why was it in your drawer, Leila?" he asked, his voice breaking with frustration. "I want to believe you. I do. But this is killing me. I need to understand."

"I don’t know," I said, my voice barely a whisper now. "But I’m telling you, it wasn’t me. Someone put it there, Drake. I don’t know who, but this isn’t me. I would never hurt our baby. You have to believe me."

He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the internal struggle on his face. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his jaw tight. Then he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands running over his face in exhaustion.

"I don’t know what to do, Leila," he muttered, his voice raw. "I feel like I’m losing my mind. I love you. I love this baby. But this... this is tearing me apart."

I moved closer, kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in mine. His grip tightened, like he was afraid to let go, afraid that everything might fall apart if he did.