The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 319: Arrival Of The White Wolf

Jessamyn’s mind raced as she threw herself between the two women, her heart pounding in her chest. Instinct guided her, overriding the terror gripping her mind. She moved faster than she thought possible, her body acting as a shield for Cordelia, who was frozen in place, wide-eyed and trembling.

The sword in the woman’s hand gleamed dangerously, catching the flickering light of the torches lining the room. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as Jessamyn braced for the inevitable strike.

Cordelia’s scream pierced the tense air, a cry filled with terror and disbelief. Jessamyn heard it behind her as the sword cut through the air, inches from her skin. She knew, deep down, that the woman wouldn’t hesitate—her madness had consumed her entirely.

To Jerrick’s mother, Jessamyn’s life meant nothing. Without her unborn son, she was simply an obstacle, one that needed to be removed.

Not like this, not now, Jessamyn thought desperately. Not after everything.

Just as the sword was about to strike, a deep, guttural growl reverberated through the room, shaking the very walls. The sound was terrifying, primal, and it stopped Jerrick’s mother in her tracks. Jessamyn’s breath caught in her throat as she turned her head just enough to see a hulking, shadowed figure emerging from the dim light.

William.

His wolf form loomed larger than life, every muscle tense, every movement filled with lethal grace. The moon, which had been hiding behind a veil of clouds, broke free, illuminating the room with its cold, silver glow. In that moment, the air shifted, heavy with the weight of the predator who had entered.

Jerrick’s mother hesitated, her grip faltering on the sword. Her eyes flickered with something akin to recognition, and for the briefest moment, she attempted to salvage the twisted remains of their relationship.

"Son," she cooed, her voice unnervingly soft, a motherly tenderness creeping into her tone.

It was the voice William had yearned for once, the tenderness he had been denied when he was just a boy. But now, there was no room for such illusions. Jessamyn could see the manipulative glint in the woman’s eyes—this wasn’t love; this was control.

Jessamyn exhaled a shaky breath. Relief washed over her, seeing William alive and unharmed, but unease crept in. She took a step back, half-expecting William to falter under the weight of his mother’s false affection. Would he fall for her manipulation again?

"I was waiting for you," Jerrick’s mother continued, a smile curling on her lips, her words steeped in deceit. Jessamyn could see through the lie. This woman hadn’t anticipated William’s arrival—she had left him for dead, abandoned him again, this time in a pool of his own blood.

Without a word, Jessamyn and Cordelia retreated, giving space to the dark reckoning that was about to unfold. Jessamyn wanted to intervene, to say something that would shatter the fragile tension hanging in the air, but she couldn’t. This was William’s moment.

To Jessamyn’s surprise, William didn’t hesitate. His gaze never wavered, his body rigid with purpose. There was no yearning for a final, tearful conversation, no longing for reconciliation. His mother had long ago severed the bond that tied them together. She had chosen revenge over love, cruelty over care, and now she would reap what she had sown.

Jerrick’s mother blinked, her confidence flickering into confusion, but it was already too late. That woman didn’t have time to react as William lunged with blinding speed, his massive body a blur. The sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as William pounced. His fangs flashed, and with a single, vicious snap, it was over.

Jessamyn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched, horrified but unable to look away. The woman’s body lay still on the cold stone, blood pooling beneath her. William stood over her, his chest heaving with the effort, his fur matted with blood and sweat. The once-fierce glow in his eyes had dimmed, leaving only the raw aftermath of what he had done.

The room was eerily quiet now, the silence almost unbearable.

Jessamyn’s heart ached, not just for the horror of what had happened, but for William. The boy who had longed for his mother’s love, only to end her life with his own hands. She could see the torment in his eyes, the weight of a decision that could never be undone.

Jessamyn’s eyes never left William as he stood frozen over his mother’s lifeless form, the weight of what he had done settling in. She could see the subtle tremor in his hands, the way his chest heaved as though the air around him had suddenly grown too thick to breathe. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the space between them. Jessamyn waited, her heart hammering in her chest. She waited for his voice in her mind—a connection she had once found intrusive, even infuriating. But now, in this suffocating silence, she longed for it.

She needed to hear him. To know he was still there.

But nothing came. William stood over his mother, trapped in his own mind, his gaze fixed on the body beneath him. His shoulders sagged with an invisible burden, his normally sharp, defiant features softened by something darker, deeper. Was it regret? Grief? Jessamyn’s throat tightened as she realized he was seeking something from the lifeless woman at his feet—forgiveness, perhaps. Or maybe answers that would never come.

The silence in the room stretched, growing unbearable.

Cordelia trembled behind Jessamyn, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide with terror. "What... what just happened?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jessamyn turned to Cordelia, her face softening as she pulled her trembling friend into her arms. Cordelia’s sobs shook her delicate frame, and Jessamyn could feel the weight of her fear and relief blending into one tangled knot of emotion.

"It’s fine... It’s all right," Jessamyn murmured, her voice tender and soothing, though she could barely convince herself of the words. "Everything is all right now... He saved us."

She stroked Cordelia’s back gently, her hand moving in slow, comforting circles. The rhythmic motion was meant to soothe, to help Cordelia find some small measure of calm in the chaos that had just erupted. But Jessamyn could feel the tremors in her own hands, the way her own heart still raced. The terror of what had nearly happened lingered in the air like a suffocating cloud.

Cordelia clung to Jessamyn, her sobs quieting but her breath still coming in shallow gasps. "I—I thought..." she stammered, her voice breaking. "I thought we were going to die."

"I know," Jessamyn whispered, her own throat tightening as she tried to steady her friend—and herself. "But we didn’t. We’re here, and we’re safe."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace, drawing strength from the closeness.

"He... Who is he?" Cordelia asked, turning her attention toward the imposing white wolf standing in the room with them.

Jessamyn looked at William, wanting to get his consent to reveal his secret.