The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 376

A Neperate Act

A Desperate Act

The walls were closing in.

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Iva sat on the edge of her bed, her chest tight, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The

small room, which had once felt like a refuge, now felt like a prison.

She couldn’t stay here.

She needed air. She needed space. She needed to escape the suffocating pressure of her father’s ultimatum, the weight of Nick’s betrayal, the impossible choice that was being forced upon her.

She rose from the bed, her movements quick and deliberate. Iva paused at the door, pressing her

ear against the wood, listening.

Silence.

She cracked the door open, peering out into the hallway, as the last thing that she needed was

another confrontation.

Empty.

She slipped out, her steps careful and quiet. The cool air hit her face like a blessing.

She stepped outside, her feet carrying her along a small, worn path that led into the nearby forest.

She had brought a small basket with her, a flimsy excuse for her escape. She would gather herbs for dinner, she told herself. She would clear her head.

But the torment inside her did not decrease.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind, relentless and cruel.

And Nick’s demands, his frustration, his violation-they all swirled together in a toxic storm that

threatened to drown her.

*Tonight, they would end this pregnancy.*

She could feel it in her bones. The patience of both men had run out. They would not wait any

longer. They would force her hand, take the decision out of her control.

No.

She would not allow it.

But what could she do?

She was packless. Wolfless. She had no money, no job, no power. She was completely and utterly

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perate Act

dependent on the mercy of others.

And yet-

She stopped.

Her eyes had fallen on a bush of honeysuckle, its flowers blooming in clusters of pale yellow and

white.

And then, a crazy, insane idea hit her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

*No, she thought, shaking her head. *No, that’s too crazy. I can’t-*

But even as she tried to dismiss it, the idea took root, growing stronger with each passing second.

She stepped back from the bush, ready to return to the hut.

But after a few steps, she stopped.

She turned back.

Her hands moved before her mind could catch up, reaching for the honeysuckle flowers, plucking them quickly and methodically. She filled her basket with the blooms, her heart racing with a

mixture of fear and determination.

She rushed back to the hut, her steps hurried, her mind racing.

She entered the small kitchen, her hands still trembling. She began to cook the meat, adding herbs and potatoes, her movements mechanical. Her eyes kept drifting to the honeysuckle flowers

sitting in the basket.

With trembling hands, she placed them in a small pan and filled it with water.

She set the pan on the stove, her heart pounding.

The liquid began to simmer, the sweet scent of honeysuckle filling the air.

Iva stared at the pan, her mind a whirlwind of fear and hope.

*This is insane,* she thought. *This is reckless. This could backfire in a hundred different ways. This

could bring her back to the hands of her captors.*

But she couldn’t stop herself.

She had to do something.

She had to fight back.

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A Desperate Act

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The kitchen was thick with tension, the air heavy with unspoken words and simmering resentment. Iva moved mechanically, placing the plates of food on the small wooden table. The stew steamed, fragrant with herbs and the faint, sweet undertone of honeysuckle that she prayed would go

unnoticed.

Nick watched her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. His eyes followed her every movement. She avoided his gaze, focusing on the plates, the spoons, the small loaf of bread she

had set out.

“You are not you going to eat?” Rhys asked, his voice gruff, as he settled into his chair.

Iva shook her head, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“I had some while cooking,” she said, her tone light, almost dismissive. “I’m feeling a bit nauseous now. The smell is… it’s not sitting well.”

Rhys hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t press. He picked up his spoon and began to eat, his movements slow and deliberate.

Nick remained standing for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on her. His jaw tightened, and she could feel the weight of his unspoken demands pressing down on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful. “You look pale,”

Iva’s heart lurched.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “Just tired.”

She turned away, busying herself with wiping down the counter. Her hands were trembling, and she pressed them flat against the wood to still them.

She could feel their eyes on her as they ate. She could hear the scrape of spoons against bowls,

the quiet chewing, the occasional grunt of satisfaction.

And she could feel the seconds ticking away like a countdown.

And then, it happened.

Nick’s spoon clattered against the bowl. His hand went to his head, his brow furrowing in

confusion.

“I… I feel strange,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly.

Rhys looked up, his eyes widening with alarm.

“Nick? What’s wrong-”

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A Desperate Act

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But before he could finish, his head dropped forward, his chin hitting his chest. His body slumpet,

his breathing evening out into a deep, unconscious rhythm.

Nick followed moments later, his head dropping onto the table with a dull thud.

Iva stood frozen, staring at the two unconscious men. Her hands were shaking so violently she

could barely keep them steady.

She had done it..

She had drugged them.

The honeysuckle infusion-a natural sedative for the werewolves-had worked. It wasn’t poisonous, just powerful enough to knock a wolf out for several hours.

She had known it was a risk. She had known it could go wrong. But she had been desperate,

cornered, and out of options.

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