Chapter 2

Elara Thorne POV:

The words were right there, lodged in my throat. *I'm pregnant.* The three most important words of my life, the ones I thought would be our salvation, now felt like ash in my mouth. I looked up at Ryker, searching his stormy grey eyes for a flicker of something-guilt, remorse, anything. I found only cold, hard impatience.

Serena chose that moment to step out from behind him, her hand resting delicately on his arm. "Sister, please don't misunderstand," she said, her voice a soft, placating murmur. "Ryker was just comforting me."

That one word-*sister*-was a needle to my heart. A bitter, humorless laugh almost escaped me. I shoved the pregnancy test behind my back, hiding the evidence of our last chance.

Ryker's attention was solely on Serena. He didn't even seem to notice my strange gesture. He turned to her, his large hands gently cupping her shoulders. "Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell again?"

I stood there, a spectator to their intimate drama, feeling like a fool. A ghost in my own home. At this moment, I have made up my mind. I won't tell him about the child, at least not in this setting, not like this.

I turned away, my body feeling as if it were carved from lead. "It's nothing," I said, my voice a dry rasp. "I was just passing by."

I walked away, each step a monumental effort, the sound of their concerned whispers chasing me down the hall. I didn't look back, but I could feel Ryker's glare on my back. I heard him mutter to Serena, "She's always so dramatic."

The next day, I went to the pack's clinic alone. I needed to see Dr. Alistair Finch, our pack's physician. I needed a professional to confirm the pregnancy, to tell me how much time my failing body had left.

Dr. Finch was a stern, older werewolf whose loyalty was to his Alpha above all else. His examination was brief and efficient. He confirmed it: I was six weeks pregnant.

But the good news came with a death sentence. "Luna," he said, his face grim as he slid the charts across his desk. "Your energy levels are dangerously low. Far lower than they should be for a she-wolf in the early stages of pregnancy. It's as if the bond that should be nourishing you from your Alpha... is fractured. Bleeding out." He looked at me over the rim of his glasses, his expression grave. "The only way to stabilize you and the pup is to mend that connection. You must be near the Alpha. His essence is the only thing that can sustain you both now."

My heart plummeted. To survive, I had to beg for the affection of the man who despised me.

I walked out of his office in a daze, my hand resting protectively over my flat stomach. As I reached the corner of the hallway, I heard voices. Familiar voices. Ryker and Serena. They were here.

My body reacted before my mind, pressing me back against the cold stone wall, out of sight. I held my breath, my ears straining.

"Ryker, do you think our baby will look more like you or me?" Serena's voice was a playful, saccharine purr.

The world tilted on its axis. *Our baby?* I must have misheard. It wasn't possible.

But then came Ryker's reply, his voice overflowing with a tender joy I hadn't heard in years. "I hope he has your eyes," he said, the warmth in his tone a physical blow. "Like stars."

Serena giggled, a sound like glass shattering in my ears. "And your wolf form. He has to be the most powerful Alpha, just like his father."

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. Serena was pregnant, too.

I heard Ryker speaking to Dr. Finch, his Alpha tone ringing with authority. "Alistair, Serena and the pup's health are the pack's top priority. Use every resource we have. The best of everything."

"Yes, Alpha," Dr. Finch's voice was deferential.

The wall was the only thing holding me up. My baby, our fated heir, was a secret, a weakness. Her baby, a bastard born of betrayal, was the pack's treasure. The pain was a physical thing, a dull, brutal knife twisting in my gut. My own pup seemed to sense my despair, a faint flutter of protest deep within me.

*How dare he?* Lyra's voice was no longer a howl of rage, but a broken, desolate cry in my mind. *How dare he plant his seed in two wombs at once?*

In that moment, I finally understood. My child and I were disposable. We were the inconvenient truth standing in the way of his new, perfect family. The mate bond wasn't a sacred connection; it was a leash, and it was choking me.

All thoughts of reconciliation, of using this baby to fix us, evaporated. There was nothing left to fix.

I stumbled away from the clinic, my legs unsteady. Each step felt like walking on broken glass. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away.

A single, cold, and terrifying thought began to form in the ruins of my heart. I had to leave. I had to take my child and run, far away from them both.