Chapter 13

The house felt cozy, nearly suffocating, in contrast to the chilly night air beyond. As soon as Noah knocked, the front door swung open, revealing the doctor—a woman in her late forties, with piercing eyes and a gentle yet tired demeanor. Her chestnut hair was gathered into a relaxed braid, and her glasses sat low on her nose while she examined us.

"Amelia?" "Noah?" she asked, her eyes quickly shifting to Chloe, wrapped in the blanket that Noah held. "Quickly bring her in."

Her composed demeanor was a soothing relief to my strained nerves. We entered, the wooden floor groaning under our quick steps. The house had an aroma of herbs and a subtle hint of lavender, a soothing fragrance that instantly evoked feelings of security. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with jars containing dried herbs and medical books, while a tiny desk in the corner was covered with disorganized notes and vials.

The physician motioned towards a sofa by the fireplace. "Place her down there."

Noah gently placed Chloe onto the cushions, his hands shaking a bit as he arranged the blanket around her. My stomach churned as I observed her motionless, delicate figure.

"She still hasn't woken up," I said, my voice trembling. "The man who delivered her to us claimed she'd be okay, but—"

"Allow me to examine," the doctor interjected softly, already crouching next to Chloe. She dug into her bag, retrieving a stethoscope and a tiny flashlight.

I receded, my arms wrapped firmly around my chest while anxiety gnawed at me. Noah remained quiet next to me, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on Chloe.

The physician proceeded systematically, monitoring Chloe's pulse, illuminating her eyes with a light, and whispering softly to herself. Her serene presence provided comfort, yet the tightness in my chest would not relent.

At last, she raised her gaze, her demeanor contemplative. "Her vital signs are steady." She's simply... exhausted. Her body has reached its limits, and now it's making her heal. "What occurred?"

I paused, my thoughts whirling. How much information should I share with her? How much *might* I share with her?

"There was a man," I started, my voice wavering. "He discovered her near the river." He claimed he assisted her, but... I have no idea. She returned to her human form and then fell down. He informed us that she would be okay, yet he was—"

"Odd," Noah completed for me, his tone soft.

The doctor slowly nodded, her eyes becoming narrower. "And you have no idea who he was?"

"No," I replied, with frustration seeping into my voice. "He departed before we had the chance to inquire about anything." "We aren't sure if we can rely on him."

The physician exhaled deeply, getting up and massaging her forehead. "At the moment, she simply requires some rest." Her body is in healing mode, but she will awaken when she's prepared.

She vanished into the kitchen and came back shortly after with a tray carrying three hot cups of tea. "Here you go," she said, placing the tray on the little table between us. "You both seem to require this."

I clasped the cup with my hands, the heat comforting against my chilly fingers. "Thanks," I whispered, even as my mind remained muddled.

While we enjoyed our tea, the doctor faced us, her sharp eyes darting between Noah and me. "Have there been any updates on locating her father?" she inquired, her tone careful yet inquisitive.

"Not at all," I confessed, the word weighing down my tongue. "We're just as far away as we were months back." "It feels as though he's a phantom."

The physician frowned, her grip on the cup tightening. "You must exercise caution," she remarked after a pause. Chloe's situation isn't solely physical. Aspects of her background—specifically regarding her father—might complicate situations. Continue looking. "It holds significance."

I nodded, although a surge of helplessness overcame me.

Time slipped away quickly as the doctor periodically checked on Chloe, while Noah and I sat in anxious silence. Only when the soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains did Chloe finally move, her tiny frame adjusting beneath the blanket.

"Mom?" she murmured, her voice soft yet distinct.

A wave of relief washed over me, and I hurried to her side, gently pushing her hair away from her face. "I'm here, darling." "You're fine."

The physician lightly smiled from her seat. "She requires rest, yet she's past the danger." "Bring her back home and ensure she is at ease."

We expressed our gratitude to her warmly before returning to the house. Chloe dozed off once more in the car, her gentle breaths comforting amid the turmoil of the night.

When we arrived home, Noah kissed my forehead and headed to work, his fatigue clear in his weary smile. "Contact me if there are any updates," he said.

"I will," I assured, observing him leave before securing the door after him.

The home seemed excessively silent in his absence. Each squeak of the floorboards, every murmur of wind outside sent shivers down my spine. Anxiety seized me as I rechecked the locks and drapes, my gaze darting to the forest outside every hour.

Chloe rested deeply in her bed, her expression serene, but I was unable to unwind. I sensed the pressure of hidden gazes upon me, the recollection of the man's enigmatic caution echoing in my thoughts.

As noon arrived, the sound of the ancient clock on the wall startled me. The dwelling was quiet for a brief instant, and then—

*Tap. Tap.*

The noise resonated across the home, clear and intentional. My heart raced as I stood still, gazing at the front door.

For a moment, I was frozen. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, and my heart raced like a drum, every beat highlighting our vulnerability. Then instinct took over, pushing the fear aside.

I pivoted on my heels and rushed to my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. My hands shook as I extended beneath the mattress, my fingers grazing the cold, harsh edge of the knife. It wasn't just any knife—it was silver, keen enough and lethal enough to slay a werewolf.

Gripping it firmly, I inhaled deeply with a tremor, attempting to calm the quivering of my hands. The weight of the knife felt reassuring and frightening simultaneously. This wasn't the first occasion I had to consider using it, but I hoped I wouldn't need to.

I slowly approached the door, every fiber of my being on edge. The knock sounded once more, sharp and intentional, causing me to startle.

Clutching the handle, I pulled the door wide, knife lifted.

And there she stood.

Ruth.

She remained on the porch, her keen gaze observing every detail of me—the unruly hair, the ghostly complexion, the blade tightly held in my shaking hand. Her face showed a blend of criticism and humor, her lips twisting into what looked like a smirk.

"Are you anticipating someone more unpleasant?" she queried flatly, leaning a bit on her cane. She exhaled gently on its tip, as though putting out an unseen fire, then moved ahead without awaiting an invitation.

The tightness in my shoulders disappeared, giving way to a wave of humiliation and relief so intense that I nearly burst into laughter. I brought down the knife, concealing it behind my back.

"Ruth," I remarked, attempting to appear nonchalant, although my voice trembled. "I wasn't— I didn't—"

She lifted an eyebrow, feeling unimpressed. "If you're going to deceive, at the very least put in more effort."

Without saying anything more, she brushed past me into the house, her cane clicking on the wooden floor as she moved with unexpected swiftness toward the hallway. My stomach churned as I understood where she was going.

"Ruth, hold on—" I began, but she had already reached Chloe's door.

She opened it, and I trailed behind helplessly, my heart in my throat. Chloe sat up, her large eyes inquisitive and somewhat sleepy. Ruth's arrival didn't disturb her; rather, she softly cooed, extending her arms as the older woman leaned down to lift her.

"She's alright," Ruth asserted, rotating Chloe in her embrace to examine her as a doctor would a patient. Chloe chuckled, pulling on Ruth's shawl. I remained still, uncertain if I should feel relieved or annoyed by the interruption.

Ruth placed her down with the same quick efficiency and turned to look at me. "Coffee," she remarked. Neither a question nor a request—merely an order.

I I massaged my neck, holding in a sigh. Certainly. Certainly.

My hands trembled while I prepared a pot, the impact of Ruth's unexpected arrival weighing on me like a rock. When I got back to the living room, she was on the couch, her stick leaning on the armrest, her keen eyes following my every action.

I passed her a mug and settled into the armchair across from her, gripping my own cup as if it were a lifeline.

"What occurred?" she inquired, getting right to the heart of the matter.

I wavered, my mind racing for a reason. "Nothing at all." "Everything is okay."

Ruth scoffed, displaying her indifference. "Rubbish," she remarked, taking a sip of her coffee as if time was endless. "Noah's a disaster at the office, and you haven't been seen in days." "Something is happening."

I breathed out sharply, the delicate barrier containing my feelings about to break. "It's complicated," I said softly, gazing into the dark liquid in my cup.

"Give it a go," she stated, leaning closer, her voice gentle yet firm.

The words poured out before I could hold them back. "Individuals from my history have discovered me." It's hazardous, Ruth. "I'm merely attempting to protect Chloe." My voice broke on the final word, and I grasped the mug more firmly, wishing she wouldn't see the tears stinging at the edges of my eyes.

She examined me for what seemed like a lifetime, her face inscrutable. Next, silently, she stood up and walked back to Chloe's room.

My heart ceased to beat. "Ruth, what are you up to?"

She disregarded me, entering the room and picking Chloe up from her bed once more. Chloe looked up at her and then snuggled into Ruth's shoulder, her tiny hands clutching the material of Ruth's shawl.

"You're going to stay here with me," Ruth declared while approaching the front door.

My stomach sank. "What did you say?" I pursued her, my voice elevating with anxiety. "Where are you bringing her?"