Chapter 170: Good Different CIAN I stared at my mother. My mind went blank for a second before the implication of that single name hit me square in the chest. "Mother," I said slowly. "Get your mind out of the gutter." She raised one eyebrow. The gesture was so familiar it almost made me laugh. Almost. "Madeline was here for one reason and one reason alone," I continued. "To help you. That’s it." My mother’s lips pressed together. Not quite a smile. Not quite disapproval either. Something in between that I couldn’t read. "I was just surprised to see her back," she said. Her voice was light but there was weight underneath it. "Considering the mess that happened between you two." I let go of her hand and leaned back. The wood creaked under me. "It was just a stupid breakup. Nothing more. You used to like Madeline well enough." "Yes," my mother said. She didn’t hesitate. "Yes, I did." I waited. There was more coming. I could feel it in the pause she left hanging between us. "But that was before she told you to choose between her and this pack." The words landed quiet. Matter of fact. Like she was commenting on the weather. I closed my eyes for a moment. Remembered that conversation. The ultimatum. The way Madeline’s voice had cracked when she said she couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep being second to everything else in my life. The pack. The responsibilities. "That was a long time ago," I said. "Not that long," my mother replied. I opened my eyes and looked at her. "What exactly are you worried about? That, I’ll do something stupid?" She shifted slightly in the bed. Winced just a little. I moved forward instinctively but she waved me off. "That’s not even the issue," she said. "Then what is?" "She’s an old flame, Cian." I blinked. "So?" My mother sighed. It was the kind of sigh she used to give me when I was being deliberately obtuse. When I knew exactly what she meant but was choosing to ignore it. "You need to remember that you’re married now," she said. Her gaze was steady on mine. "To Fia." Heat rushed up my neck. Anger or embarrassment or some combination of both. I stood up from the chair too fast. It scraped against the floor with a harsh sound that made Maren and Thorne look over from their corner. "Goddess," I said. My voice came out too loud. I forced it lower. "I’m not a mindless whore who fucks anything in skirts." My mother didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look away. She just watched me with those too knowing eyes. "That’s not what I’m saying," she said calmly. "Then what are you saying?" "The problem is that you have history with her that wasn’t entirely closed," she said. "Something could happen. And it’s best to send her on her way as soon as possible." I ran a hand through my hair. Gripped the back of my neck and squeezed. The pressure helped. A little. "Nothing will happen," I said. "Cian." "Nothing," I repeated. Firmer this time. "I promise you. Nothing will happen." I sat back down. The anger was draining out of me already. Leaving just exhaustion in its place. "But that’s after I thank her properly," I added. "In front of the pack. For what she did. For bringing you back from the brink of death." My mother was quiet for a moment. Her fingers plucked at the blanket covering her legs. Small movements. Thoughtful. "I have no problem with that," she said finally. "My mind is settled now." I nodded. Let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She shifted again in the bed. This time she managed to sit up a little straighter. Her hand reached out and patted mine where it rested on the armrest of the chair. "Now," she said. Her tone changed. Became lighter. Almost playful. "On to other news." Something in my gut twisted. I knew that tone. Had heard it before when she was about to say something that would make me want to leave the room. "Have you and Fia fulfilled your marital duties to one another now that you don’t hate each other?" The words hung in the air. Crystal clear. Impossible to misunderstand. I stared at her. My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "Mother," I said. My voice came out strangled. "You have to stop." "What?" She looked genuinely confused. Like she’d just asked me about the weather or what I’d had for breakfast. "I ain’t getting younger." "That’s not the point." "And I just survived a damn poisoning," she continued. Like I hadn’t spoken at all. "Give me grandkids." My face was burning. I could feel it. The heat spreading from my neck up to my ears. I looked away. Looked at the wall. At the door. Anywhere but at her. "This is not a conversation we’re having right now," I said. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎 "Why not?" "Because you just woke up from being poisoned," I said. I forced myself to look back at her. "Because you nearly died. Because we just spent the last however many hours terrified that you wouldn’t wake up at all. Because there are about a hundred more important things to discuss right now." She waved her hand dismissively. "All of that is exactly why we should be having this conversation." "How does that logic work?" "Because life is short," she said simply. "And I want to see my grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy them." "You’re not old." "I’m not young either," she countered. "And you’re not getting any younger yourself. Neither is Fia. So tell me. Have you consummated the marriage or not?" I stood up again. This time I walked away from the bed. Moved toward the window. Looked out at the darkness beyond. The moon was still visible through the clouds. Nearly full. Bright enough to cast shadows. "This is insane," I muttered. "It’s a simple question, Cian." "It’s invasive." "I’m your mother," she said. Like that explained everything. Maybe it did. "I have a right to ask." I turned back to face her. Crossed my arms over my chest. "No. You don’t." She smiled. Actually smiled. Like this was amusing to her. "So that’s a no then," she said. I didn’t answer. "Or is it a yes and you’re just too embarrassed to admit it?" "I’m not doing this," I said. "Doing what?" Her smile widened. "Having a conversation with your mother about your marriage?" "Having a conversation about my sex life with anyone," I shot back. "Let alone my mother. Who just woke up from being unconscious for days." She laughed. It was quiet. A little weak. But it was real. The sound of it made something in my chest loosen. Just slightly. "You always were easy to fluster," she said. "I’m not flustered." "You’re bright red." I uncrossed my arms. Shoved my hands in my pockets instead. "Can we please talk about literally anything else?" "Fine," she said. But her eyes were still dancing with amusement. "But you should know that I’m not going to drop this forever. You’re married. Fia is lovely. And I want grandbabies to spoil before I’m too decrepit to chase them around." "You’re not going to be decrepit." "Not if you give me something to live for," she said. Her voice went softer. More serious. "Children are a blessing, Cian. They give you purpose. They give you hope. Don’t wait too long." I looked at her. Really looked at her. Saw the sincerity in her expression. The genuine hope. And underneath that, the fear. The fear that maybe she wouldn’t still have as much time as she thought. That maybe the poison had reminded her just how fragile everything was. "I hear you," I said quietly. "But?" "But that’s between me and Fia," I said. "And right now we’re focused on other things. Like making sure the pack is safe. Like finding out that bastard who orchestrated your poisoning in the first place. Like dealing with everything else that’s happening. Gabriel has to pay." My mother nodded slowly. "I understand that. I do. But don’t let those things consume you so much that you forget to live. To build something good with your mate." "I won’t," I said. "Promise me." I walked back to the chair. Sat down again. Took her hand in mine. "I promise," I said. She squeezed my fingers. "Good. That’s all I needed to hear." We sat in silence for a moment. The kind of comfortable quiet that only comes from knowing someone your whole life. From not needing to fill every second with words. "She seems different," my mother said eventually. "Fia. From when I first met her." I thought about that. "She is different," I said. "Good different?" "Yes," I said. And I meant it. "Very good different."