To protect what's mine (Amalie) novel Chapter 182

**TITLE: Guard 182**

**Chapter 182: Calyx**

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“So, you chose to stay because you’re too scared to leave unless you wield absolute power,” I snarl at her, my voice low and dangerous. Deep down, I know she doesn’t deserve my fury, but how can I feel compassion for those who dared to abduct my mate and may have taken the life of our unborn pup?

Zviad is a tempest of rage within me. Ever since he learned that Amalie had been poisoned with a substance that could have ended our pup’s life, his anger has been a living thing, clawing at the edges of my mind. He longs to rend the witch to pieces, and I find myself straining to keep both him and myself in check.

“It’s not as straightforward as that!” she retorts, her voice rising defiantly. “You mutts have an entire pack to protect one another. Witches? We only have ourselves or our coven. And even that has devolved into a selfish game of survival. Is that what you want me to admit?”

“Is that not the truth of what you’ve become?” I growl back, my frustration spilling over.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a goddess who sent a messiah to shield us and guide our paths!” she yells, her eyes flashing with indignation.

“Maybe if you did, a creature like this Countess wouldn’t have risen to power and kidnapped our mate!” I shout, the words escaping my lips like a bolt of lightning.

“You have no right to judge us!” she screams, her voice trembling with emotion. “The Countess murdered my mother for defying her. She eliminates anyone who shows disloyalty, draining their magic until they’re left as mere shells. Then they perish. Can you even imagine how it would feel if your wolf were forcibly ripped from you? Not a slow fading away, but a brutal tearing apart!”

‘It would drive fear and madness,’ Zviad whispers, his voice a quiet anchor amidst the storm of my anger. ‘She has tamed their spirits.’

I take a moment to breathe deeply, letting her words sink in. She’s right in a way. We have each other and our pack, even if our wolves begin to wane. If they do, we still have a place among our kind. We may stray from our path for a time, but there are always those around us who will help guide us back.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I come to terms with the situation. Markus glances at me, sensing the shift in my demeanor as my anger dissipates. “What do we need to do to bring Amalie back?” I inquire, striving to keep the growl from my voice, though the urgency lingers in my tone.

Sara lifts her gaze to meet mine, her expression intense as if she’s trying to peer into the depths of my soul. Perhaps she can—after all, she is a witch. “What I gave her taints her very essence. The Countess will have to expend considerable time and energy to cleanse the white wolf. The wolf needed cleansing, regardless, but that would have taken only an hour. With the poison coursing through her veins, it will stretch to nearly three days for it to be eradicated.”

“What about the baby?” Markus growls, protectiveness lacing his voice.

“I cannot say for certain. She would have been dosed with wolfsbane before being brought to the coven. For normal wolves, it can be lethal. When a pregnant mother is exposed to it, it usually means the baby is lost,” she explains, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

Zviad goes still within me, a cold realization washing over us. We hadn’t even considered the possibility of her being poisoned during the abduction. Goddess above, we might have lost our pup before we ever had the chance to meet them.

‘Why does everything seem to go awry?’ I cry out in despair within my mind, fighting the urge to howl my anguish.

‘We would know if we lost our pup,’ Zviad assures me, his conviction a flicker of light in my darkness.

‘But we can’t be certain,’ I argue back, doubt gnawing at my heart.

“Then let’s go find our mate and our pup,” Zviad growls, an insatiable hunger for vengeance surging through him. He’s ready to rip the coven apart piece by piece.

“What do we need to do to locate Ama?” Markus directs his question to the witch, urgency lacing his tone.

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