Episode 6:No way back
1335 Words
Kendall’s POV
The word pregnant echoed in my head long after the doctor had left the room.
It didn’t make sense.
It couldn’t.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, the steady beep… beep… beep of the monitor mocking me, each sound drilling the truth deeper into my skull. My fingers trembled beneath the thin hospital blanket, instinctively pressing against my stomach as if I could already feel something there.
A life.
Zach’s child.
My chest tightened painfully.
“No,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “This can’t be happening.”
But it was.
The night by the waterfall replayed in my mind with cruel clarity—the heat of his body, the way the mate bond had snapped into place so violently it stole my breath. The way I’d felt whole for the first time in my life… even as everything else was falling apart.
And the way he’d looked at me the next morning.
Cold. Disgusted. Like I was something filthy he’d accidentally touched.
My throat burned as tears welled up. I turned my face away, refusing to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It never had.
The woman who had brought me to the hospital—her name was Maya, she’d told me—shifted uncomfortably in her chair beside the bed. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Do I look okay?”
Her eyes softened, filled with pity, and I hated that more than anything. I hated being pitied. “You don’t have to answer that,” she said quickly. “I just… you looked like you needed someone.”
I almost told her the truth.
That I had no one.
That I had been cast out like trash.
That the man who put this child inside me wanted nothing to do with me.
But the words stayed lodged in my throat.
“I’ll be fine,” I said instead, forcing strength into my voice. “Thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to.”
Maya hesitated, then nodded. “If you need anything, I’ll leave my number.” She scribbled it on a piece of paper and placed it on the table. “Just… take care of yourself, okay?”
I watched her leave, the door clicking shut softly behind her.
Alone again.
It seemed to be a pattern.
I was discharged later that evening with a prescription for prenatal vitamins, instructions to rest, and a warning to eat properly.
As if that were easy.
The sun was already sinking by the time I stepped outside, the sky painted in shades of orange and red. I inhaled deeply, the city air thick and unfamiliar, nothing like the forest back home.
Home.
The word felt foreign now.
I slid into my car and sat there for a long moment, my hands resting on the steering wheel. My reflection stared back at me in the windshield,pale, hollow-eyed, bruises still faintly visible along my arms and ribs.
I looked broken.
And I refused to let my child see me like this.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I glanced down at my stomach. “I promise.”
Zach would never know.
The thought came suddenly, sharp and terrifying, but once it settled, it felt… right.
He had made his choice.
He’d rejected me in front of the entire pack. Exiled me. Left me bleeding on a cold stone floor without so much as a backward glance.
He didn’t deserve to know about this baby.
I turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and drove away from the hospital without looking back.
---
The next few weeks passed in a blur of exhaustion and quiet determination.
I quit my job at the diner and took on two others—cleaning offices during the day and working overnight shifts at a convenience store. The pay was barely enough, but it kept a roof over my head and food in the fridge.
I moved again.
This time farther.
New Orleans.
The city felt alive in a way New Jersey never had,music spilling from open doors, laughter echoing down the streets, the air heavy with magic and mystery. It was easy to disappear here.
That was what I needed.
I rented a tiny apartment above an old bookstore, the floors creaking beneath my feet, the walls thin enough that I could hear my neighbors arguing or laughing late into the night.
It wasn’t much.
But it was mine.
I set my bag down and leaned against the door, closing my eyes as exhaustion washed over me. For the first time since my exile, no one knew who I was.
No whispers.
No accusations.
No stones.
Just Kendall.
---
The sickness hit soon after.
Mornings became unbearable. The smell of coffee—once my lifeline—now sent me running to the bathroom. My body felt foreign, unpredictable, my emotions swinging wildly without warning.
Some nights, I’d wake up gasping, heart pounding, the phantom sensation of Zach’s presence wrapping around me like a curse.
The mate bond.
It hadn’t broken.
It burned quietly beneath my skin, a constant reminder of what I’d lost—and what I was running from.
I learned to ignore it.
Or at least, I pretended to.
I placed my hand on my stomach often, whispering to the life growing inside me, grounding myself in the promise I’d made.
Just you and me.
That was enough.
It had to be.
My belly began to swell, impossible to hide now. I switched to looser clothes, oversized hoodies and flowing dresses. People smiled at me on the street, congratulated me without knowing anything about my story.
They didn’t know I was carrying the heir of an Alpha who wanted me gone.
And they never would.
One evening, after a long shift at the bookstore, I locked up and turned toward the stairs—only to nearly collide with someone.
“Whoa,” a male voice said, steadying me before I could fall.
Strong hands caught my arms.
I froze.
Not from fear.
From instinct.
My wolf stirred uneasily, silver eyes flickering in my mind.
Slowly, I looked up.
He was tall, blond, with sharp features softened by an easy smile. His eyes—dark, observant—flicked briefly to my stomach before returning to my face, careful, respectful.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” I replied quickly, pulling back. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He chuckled softly. “Fair enough. You live here?”
I nodded. “Upstairs.”
“Leonard,” he said, extending a hand. “I just moved in next door. Figured I should introduce myself before you start thinking I’m some kind of creep.”
I hesitated, then shook his hand.
The contact was warm. Human.
No spark.
No pull.
No pain.
Relief washed over me so suddenly it almost made me dizzy.
“Kendall,” I said. Not Shelby. Not anymore.
“Nice to meet you, Kendall.” His smile widened. “If you ever need help carrying groceries or something, let me know. No pressure.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.
As I climbed the stairs that night, I realized something unsettling.
For the first time since my exile, someone had looked at me without judgment.
Not as a killer.
Not as a disgrace.
Not as a rejected mate.
Just… me.
Miles away, under the cold glow of the moon, Zachary Flint stood at the edge of his territory, his wolf pacing restlessly beneath his skin.
The mate bond burned.
Sharp.
Unrelenting.
Unforgiving.
“She’s alive,” he growled to the night, fists clenched. “I know she is.”
But no matter how hard he searched, how many borders he crossed, Kendall Shelby was gone.
And with her…
So was his future.
- Writer
