I Am His Wolfless Luna Chapter 180

Ethan's POV

After dinner, my phone rang, vibrating against the wooden table where we'd just finished our celebratory meal. It was unusual for her to call this late; she typically texted first to make sure I wasn't in a meeting.

I excused myself, touching Aria's shoulder gently as I stood. "I should take this," I murmured, watching her nod in understanding. Lucas was still working on his chocolate cake, his face smeared with evidence of his enthusiasm for dessert, completely oblivious to the sudden tension in my posture.

I walked toward the restaurant's entrance, finding a quiet corner near the coat check. The ambient noise of clinking glasses and muted conversations faded as I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Mother? Is everything alright?" My chest tightened with anticipation.

"Ethan," my mother's voice came through, an unusual note of urgency coloring her tone. "Your father is lucid today. More aware than he's been in weeks."

My heart skipped a beat. "That's... unexpected. Is he okay?"

"The doctors aren't sure if it's temporary—you know, a final rally before..." She didn't finish the thought. We both knew what the doctors had been saying for months. "He knows about the twins now. He's asking to see them, Ethan. All your children. While he's still... while he can still recognize them."

I glanced back at Aria, who was watching me with concern in her amber eyes. "We'll be there as soon as possible," I promised, ending the call.

"Your father?" Aria asked as I returned to the table.

I nodded, settling my hand on Lucas's shoulder. "He's awake and asking to see the children. All of them."

The drive to the hospital was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Lucas sat between the twins' car seats in the back, solemnly appointed as their protector for the journey. He took his role seriously, adjusting their blankets whenever they stirred and whispering reassurances when Olivia fussed.

"Is Grandpa going to die?" he asked suddenly, his voice small yet startlingly direct in the quiet car.

The question hung in the air for a moment. Aria reached back to squeeze his knee, but her eyes met mine, letting me take this one.

"Everyone dies eventually, buddy," I said carefully, watching him in the rearview mirror. "Your grandfather has been very sick for a long time. The doctors are doing everything they can, but yes, someday he will die. It might be soon."

Lucas nodded, digesting this with that peculiar gravity children sometimes possess when confronting life's hardest truths. "That's why we need to see him today? Because we might not get another chance?"

My throat tightened. "That's right."

"I'm glad we're going, then," he decided, returning his attention to his sisters. "Everyone should get to meet Liv and Cassie. They're pretty great."

The hospital hallways seemed longer than usual as we made our way to the private room where my father had spent so many weeks. The antiseptic smell that permeated everything made my nose twitch, a constant reminder that this sterile environment was fighting a losing battle against the deterioration of his body.

When we entered, I almost didn't recognize him. My father looked like a shell of himself. Tubes and wires connected him to various machines that monitored and sustained his failing systems. The oxygen mask covered half his face, and his wrists had thinned to little more than bone covered by translucent skin.

Yet something in his eyes had changed. The foggy confusion that had clouded them for weeks had cleared, replaced by a sharp awareness that was both comforting and painful to witness.

"Father," I said softly, approaching his bedside.

He lifted a trembling hand to remove the oxygen mask momentarily. "My son," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "You brought them."

I nodded, motioning for Aria to come closer with the twins. Lucas hung back slightly, his small hand clutching the hem of my jacket as he peered at his grandfather with wide, curious eyes.

"This is Olivia," I said, carefully taking my firstborn daughter from Aria's arms and bringing her close enough for my father to see. "And this is Cassie." Aria stepped forward with our second daughter. "And you remember Lucas."

My father's eyes moved from face to face, studying each of his grandchildren with intense focus, as if committing every detail to memory. When his gaze settled on Lucas, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Come closer, boy," he whispered.

Lucas glanced up at me, seeking permission. When I nodded, he approached the bed cautiously.

"Hello, Grandpa," he said politely, standing tall despite his obvious nervousness.

My father's weathered hand reached out, trembling with effort, to touch Lucas's cheek. "You have your father's eyes," he observed. "And his courage, I'm told."

Lucas straightened his shoulders, pride evident in his posture. "I helped save Mom and my sisters from a bad lady," he informed his grandfather solemnly.

"So I heard." My father's eyes crinkled at the corners, the closest thing to a smile his weakened state would allow. "A true Shadow Fang warrior."

The simple praise made Lucas beam. My father then turned his attention back to the twins, motioning for us to bring them closer. I carefully placed Olivia in the crook of his arm, supporting her weight to ensure he didn't strain himself. Aria did the same with Cassie on his other side.

For a long moment, he simply gazed at them, these tiny new lives juxtaposed against his fading one. My mother stood at the foot of the bed, tears streaming silently down her face as she watched her husband meet his granddaughters for the first and likely last time.

After a few minutes, my father's strength began to wane. We took the twins back, and he sank deeper into his pillows, his breathing more labored. Lucas was escorted outside by my mother, who sensed the shift in the room's atmosphere and knew there were private matters to discuss.

Once they had left, my father gestured weakly for me to come closer. I leaned in, our faces inches apart as he pulled the oxygen mask down once more.

"Victor," he whispered, his voice strained with effort and emotion.

I tensed at the name, my hand automatically finding Aria's beside me. "What about him?"

"He is my brother." His admission hung between us, confirmation of what I'd already learned. "I never told you because..." A coughing fit interrupted him, and I waited, anxiety gnawing at my insides as he struggled to regain his breath. "Because I thought I'd defeated him. I didn't want you to think... that you had a terrible family."

"Father—" I began, but he shook his head weakly, determined to continue.

"And because... despite everything... he was still my brother." The raw pain in his voice spoke of a wound that had never truly healed. "But now he threatens our pack again. I'm sorry I chose to hide from this truth. Our generation's feud should never have become your burden."

His hand found mine, his grip surprisingly strong given his condition. "My time is short, Ethan. If you've made your decision..." His eyes, so like my own, bore into me with sudden intensity. "Go fight. Kill him if you must. Give our pack peace."

I nodded solemnly, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders like a physical burden. This was more than permission—it was a passing of responsibility, a final directive from one Alpha to his successor.

The effort of this lengthy speech had clearly drained what little strength he had left. His eyelids fluttered, and he sank back into the pillows, slipping into unconsciousness once more. My mother returned, taking her place at his side and clasping his limp hand between hers.

"Take the children home," she said softly. "I'll stay with him."

I hesitated, torn between my duty to my father and my responsibility to my family. "Mother, if he's—"

"I'll call you," she promised, her eyes reflecting a lifetime of love and imminent loss. "We've said what needed to be said, Ethan. Go be with your family now."

Aria and I gathered the children, leaving my mother to her vigil. The drive home was subdued, the weight of impending loss hanging over us. Lucas fell asleep between his sisters' car seats, his small head nodding forward with each mile we traveled.

"He's really dying, isn't he?" Aria asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the darkened road ahead.

"Yes," I replied simply. There was nothing else to say.

At 3:17 the next morning, my phone rang, jerking me from a restless sleep. I knew before I even looked at the screen. A part of me had been waiting for this call all night.

"He's gone," my mother said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the grief evident in every syllable. "His heart stopped about ten minutes ago. The doctors tried, but... he was ready, Ethan. It was time."

I sat on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to my ear, unable to formulate a response through the sudden tightness in my throat. Aria stirred beside me, instantly alert as she sensed my distress. Her hand found my back, warm and steady.

"I'll be right there," I finally managed.

The hospital room was quiet when I arrived, the machines silenced, the body of my father looking smaller somehow than it had just hours before. My mother sat beside him, still holding his hand as if reluctant to accept the reality that he would never again return her grip.

I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, feeling them shake with silent sobs. We stood that way for a long time, united in our grief for the complicated, honorable man who had led our pack for so many years.

"The transition of power won't be easy," she said finally, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

"I know," I assured her, thinking of all the responsibilities that now officially rested on my shoulders alone. The pack would look to me for guidance through their grief, for strength against external threats, for stability in this time of uncertainty.

As I held my mother, watching the lifeless form of my father, I made a silent vow. I would not let anyone down—not my pack, not my family, not the legacy my father had entrusted to me. And I would end the threat Victor posed, once and for all.