Emma's Mate (Book 1)

Chapter 36

Ashton Williams

As my father and I made our way back to the hospital, a sense of calm had settled over me, but it was overshadowed by the deep pain and sorrow of losing our child. The thought of facing Emma filled me with dread, knowing she was already upset with me, and now I had to deliver this heartbreaking news. The weight of that truth pressed heavily on my chest.

Entering the hospital, I saw Evelyn still weeping, her head resting on James' shoulder for comfort. My mother and Abigail sat together in silent support, their expressions somber. Ethan stood further down the hall, his body tense with unspoken questions. And then there was the warlock. His calm, silent presence felt like a steady current in the room’s storm of grief.

As I approached, Ethan’s body tensed, as if he wanted to demand answers about Ava, but he held back. I noticed the way the warlock stood apart from the rest, exuding an air of mystery. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his dark, rune-embroidered cloak, his eyes glowing faintly with a silver light beneath his dark brow. His mere presence seemed to hum with ancient power, as though the centuries he carried weighed on the very air around him.

I extended my hand for a handshake, doing my best to mask the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "I am Alpha Ashton Williams," I said, my voice steady but hard.

The warlock straightened from his relaxed position, his cloak falling neatly behind him. His hand, firm and cool, clasped mine with a respectful nod. "Alastor Grimwald."

His voice was calm and measured, much like his demeanor, but there was something otherworldly in his tone. Despite his composed manner, his light gray eyes—strikingly vivid against his angular features—held the weight of someone who had seen far too much. His appearance, from the streaks of silver in his dark hair to the weariness etched in his sharp features, suggested a man who had lived lifetimes.

Curiosity gnawed at me. Why had he been near Nicholas Campbell’s borders? What was a powerful warlock like him doing there?

"What were you doing at Nicholas Campbell's house?" I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral. "Do you know him?"

Alastor’s eyes flickered, but just for a second—so brief that I almost missed it. He was composed again as he spoke. "I was passing through," he replied, his tone smooth, "and I witnessed two women fighting. I assumed one of them is your mate, the one currently in the hospital, judging by your reaction." His words were precise, calculated, and he watched me closely, as if weighing each word before releasing it.

I tensed at the reminder of Emma’s condition. "She is my mate," I confirmed, a hard edge creeping into my voice.

"I don’t know Nicholas Campbell personally," Alastor continued, his gaze steady, though I sensed something unspoken beneath his calm surface. "But I’ve heard stories. Rumor has it his patron betrayed him, forcing him into hiding. I was hoping to find something valuable from such a powerful warlock, but instead, I encountered your mate... and the other woman."

There was no malice in his voice, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Alastor was withholding something. His aura was too controlled, too guarded. Still, I couldn’t deny the fact that he had saved Emma’s life, and for that, I owed him.

"Thank you," I said, though the words felt inadequate for the depth of my gratitude.

He gave me a small, almost imperceptible smile, his angular features softening for just a moment. "I overheard their conversation," he explained, his eyes briefly darkening. "The other girl... she’s pure evil. But your mate, she has a heart of gold. She’s brave, fiercely so, and she loves you deeply."