Reclaimed By My Alpha (Natalia and Andrei) novel Chapter 59

Chapter 59

I didn’t respond to Andrei’s earlier question. Instead, I shifted my attention to the remaining Ashmoor warrior standing nearby. “Could I borrow your jacket?” I asked quietly, hoping to mask any tension between Andrei and me.

“Of course, Luna,” he replied immediately, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out to me without hesitation. I returned a warm smile, gratefully accepting the garment and slipping it over my shoulders. The leather was worn but comforting, and I let myself sink into its warmth.

Turning back toward Andrei, I made a deliberate show of nestling into the coat, as if to silently declare that I wasn’t interested in his offer. If anything, I preferred the jacket from this stranger rather than anything from Andrei. I caught his eyes on me, his expression unreadable, though I sensed a flicker of something beneath his calm exterior. After a moment, he shrugged and pulled his own coat back on. “Suit yourself,” he said simply.

We resumed our walk in silence, the narrow path winding along the edge of a steep cliff. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth, and the quiet was broken only by the crunch of our footsteps on the rocky trail. Suddenly, my ears pricked up at a faint, plaintive sound coming from the forest nearby.

Andrei halted immediately, raising a hand to signal for silence. We all strained to listen, and after a few seconds, the sound came again—a fragile, desperate cry that tugged at my heart. It was unmistakably the cry of a baby.

“Over there,” Andrei whispered, pointing toward a dense thicket just off the path.

We approached cautiously, with his Beta and the other warriors moving silently to flank us. As we drew nearer, I spotted a small shape lying among the underbrush, trembling violently and letting out that pitiful wail.

It was a fawn, barely weeks old, its spotted coat still fresh and its legs thin and fragile. But what caught my attention most was the deep gash on its side, crusted with dried blood, and the way its ribs protruded painfully beneath its skin.

“It’s starving,” I murmured, kneeling beside the tiny creature. “And hurt. Someone must have killed its mother.”

The fawn tried to stand when it saw us, but its legs gave way beneath it, too weak to hold even its small frame. It cried out again, a heartbreaking call for a mother that would never return. I felt tears welling in my eyes.

Andrei crouched down next to me. “It won’t last,” he said softly. “Not without its mother, and not with that wound.”

His words hit me hard. I knew he was right—the poor animal was suffering, slowly wasting away, its injury likely infected. But knowing the truth didn’t ease the ache in my chest.

“We can’t just leave it here like this,” I said firmly.

“No,” Andrei agreed. Then, to my surprise, he reached out and gently stroked the fawn’s head with a large, careful hand. The animal flinched at first but soon relaxed under his touch. “I can end its pain. Quickly. Without suffering.”

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