Chapter 157: Noah & Hannah

Noah’s POV

Noah burst from the restaurant into the cool night air, his ragged breaths mingling with the sound of his shoes on the pavement and the screech of the departing cab. Hannah was already inside, the taxi pulling away at breakneck speed.

“Hannah!” he shouted, skidding to a halt. “Hannah, come back!”

It was useless. She was gone, the yellow cab disappearing around the corner. Noah watched, breathless, as it vanished completely.

“Dammit!” he cursed, whirling and kicking a stone into a nearby sewer grate. His nostrils flared, his heart pounding. Why had she fled? And more importantly, why had she vomited?

Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the curious stares from other diners. Squaring his shoulders, he re-entered the restaurant to pay the bill.

She hadn’t just overeaten, had she? No, something else was amiss.

Gritting his teeth, he returned to their private room. Hannah had left her velvet shawl; he picked it up, clutching it tightly. It smelled of her—a sweet, sage-like scent, not floral.

His wolf growled at the familiar perfume. “Something’s wrong with her,” it rumbled.

Hannah’s POV

Viona opened the door moments after my knock, her hair in a messy bun, a glass of wine in hand.

“Hannah?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…” My throat felt constricted. Viona stepped aside. “Come in, honey. Tell me what happened.”

Taking a deep breath, I entered Viona’s small downtown loft—the first place that came to mind when I hailed the cab. I couldn’t face Noah, and certainly not going home.

“Thanks, Vi,” I murmured, sinking onto her plush sectional after removing my shoes. “It’s been a rough night.”

“Tell me,” Viona said, settling beside me, watching intently.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. How could I explain my flight from the restaurant without revealing my pregnancy?

But Viona’s unwavering gaze broke the dam. I had to tell someone. I was weary of keeping it all inside, and Viona was my best friend. I needed her support. To hell with what she thought. I couldn't bear it any longer.

Swallowing hard, I took her hand. “Viona, I have to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell a soul.”

Viona chuckled, sipping her wine. “Alright. Sure.”

“I mean it,” I insisted, gripping her hand tighter, leaning closer. “Swear… swear on your mother.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Her mother was precious to her, her father having died when she was young. “Hannah, what’s going on?” she whispered.

“Just… promise me, Vi,” I pleaded. “Please, swear you won’t tell anyone.”

A muscle twitched above her eye as she searched my face for deception. She found none. My sincerity was absolute.

Finally, she sighed, setting her wine glass down. “Alright. I swear on my mother that I won’t tell a soul, Hannah.”

Relief washed over me. “Thank you.”

Viona raised an eyebrow. “Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”