Chapter 2 Clara gone

CHAPTER TWO: Clara gone

sun flashes through my face as I have fallen asleep, through the stress of going throughout the night.

The city was nothing like the mountains of our pack.

Here, the air didn't carry the sharp chill of pine or the howl of wolves. Instead, it was thick with smoke, voices, and the metallic scent of machines. The towering skyline felt oppressive at first like the walls of a cage. But over time, I came to see it differently. The city was anonymous. A place where no one cared about rank or scent or the scars hidden beneath your clothes. I needed that.

I became no one.

I chopped off my hair the first night I arrived, strands falling like old memories to the motel sink. I burned what remained of my pack clothes and slipped into thrifted layers that didn't smell like him. I bought the strongest suppressant serum I could afford and swallowed it with trembling hands.

Then, I changed my name.

Clara the girl who once thought she was loved was dead.

Now, I am lara.

No pack. No past. Just a name scribbled onto fake city documents and whispered to landlords who didn't ask too many questions.

Three months passed like smoke through fingers. Slow. Then all at once.

I worked long hours hemming dresses and mending shirts in a cramped corner of the garment district. Most people assumed I was just another human girl trying to get by. No one looked twice. No one sniffed close. That's the way I liked it.

But at night, the ache returned.

It began in my lower back, dull and persistent. Then came the nausea, the sleeplessness, the sudden aversion to cooked meat. Still, I said nothing. Admitted nothing.

Until one morning, while adjusting the seams of a suit jacket, I felt it Small, Insubstantial Like a butterfly trapped inside me.

I froze, thread slipping through my fingers. My hands went to my belly as if to steady something. Someone.

Tears rolled without warning.

My child.

Robert child.

The flutter became a kick days later. A rhythm. A heartbeat beside mine. And despite everything, despite the betrayal, the abandonment, I smiled.

In a city that never stopped moving, I slowed down for this life. I began visiting a small Omega-human safehouse tucked between a mechanic's shop and a bakery. The door was unmarked, but inside it smelled of lavender and warmth. The walls were lined with donated clothes, old toys, and books with frayed spines.

It was run by Jessa, an exiled Beta healer with a crooked smile and hands that always smelled like herbs. She never asked why I was alone. She simply placed a cup of tea in my hands, offered prenatal vitamins, and showed me how to feel for the baby's position through the soft curve of my belly.

Life was hard, but it was mine.

I began sewing for the other Omegas maternity clothes, baby blankets, carrier slings. They paid in favors, barter, or hugs. I didn't mind. It kept me grounded.

At night, I dreamed of a life where my baby never had to know the word Alpha. Especially not his. Father Alpha Robert.

But fate, cruel and unrelenting, wasn't done with me yet.

It happened on a damp spring evening. The market stalls near the canal were open late, hawking everything from pickled vegetables to handmade jewelry. I was haggling over a basket of apples when it hit me.

A pang.

Not physical. Not from the baby.

No, this was different.

Omega to Alpha.

The air changed electrified, charged like the moment before a lightning strike. My breath caught in my throat. I clutched the stall's edge, knuckles white.

I hadn't felt that sensation in months. I thought the suppressants had numbed it completely.

But this... this was raw. Ancient.

My heart raced, and my eyes darted around the crowd.

No. No, no, no.

He couldn't be here. He couldn't have found me.

Then I saw him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Jet black hair tousled from the wind. Leather jacket slung over a gray shirt, boots scuffed from travel.

For a heartbeat, I thought it was Robert.

My blood turned to ice.

But then... no. His jawline was softer. His eyes were warm, not sharp. Green, not black.

Still... there was something familiar. Too familiar.

And the bond. The bond snapped tight between us like a drawn bowstring.

My knees threatened to buckle.

He hadn't seen me yet, but he was close. Brows furrowed. Sniffing the air, searching like a hound catching scent.

No. I couldn't risk it.

I turned sharply, abandoning the apples and weaving into the crowd with one hand on my belly. My heart was thundering, the bond thrumming with a painful, unwanted pull.

He wasn't Robert, but he felt like him. That was dangerous.

I ducked into an alleyway near the seamstress row, pressing my back against the cool stone wall. I counted my breaths.

One. Two. Three

"Your scent...

I froze.

The voice was low. Curious. With an edge of something I didn't want to name.

Slowly, I turned my head.

He was there. The Alpha.

Only a few steps away now. He wasn't dressed like a city Alpha, no tailored suit, no polished shoes. He looked like he didn't belong here. Like me.

But it was his eyes that undid me.

They widened the moment he saw me. Not with recognition, With else. As though some unseen thread had just snapped into place.

He stepped closer, one hand half-raised, like he wasn't sure whether to reach out or hold back.

Gods... you smell like heartbreak.

The words cut through me like a blade.

I flinched.

His eyes softened, but his stance didn't shift. He didn't leer. Didn't smirk. He just stared, haunted.

Who are you?

Clara asked?

But no sound came out.

The weight of the bond. The baby is stirring inside me. The fear. The confusion. The memory of Robert's betrayal. All of it crashed into me at once.

And all I could was to run from the stranger.