Chapter 4: Room 512
1326 Words
Talking to my mate felt impossible with the way he carried himself, so entitled, so certain, like nothing I said would ever truly matter to him. Every word died in my throat before it could even form, and all I wanted—more than anything—was my mom.
She already knew I had to leave, and the thought of upsetting her any more than she already was made my chest ache.
So I said nothing.
Not to Vincenzo.
Not to anyone.
I simply forced myself to stand, even as pain moved through my body in slow, unforgiving waves.
Every step felt wrong.
Heavy.
Too aware.
I hated it.
I hated feeling him still there, hated feeling so full of him, hated how close I was to losing my mind if I stayed in that feeling for even one second longer.
So the moment I saw the bathroom inside the hospital, I hurried inside, shaking more than I wanted to admit, and sat down to let it all out.
The relief came quickly, but it wasn’t comforting.
Not really.
Because once that brief ease passed, something colder settled inside me.
A fear.
Quiet at first, then impossible to ignore.
After everything that had happened… after how intense he had been, especially for a human… I knew what this could mean.
I could be pregnant.
And that thought didn’t just sit in my mind—
It wrapped around my heart and squeezed.
“He better not have knocked me up, or I’m going to kill him. I graduate in three months, and even though I’m of age, I am not having a pup right now!”
I slammed my fist against the stall wall hard enough to leave a hole in it, making the girl in the next stall scream in pure fright.
But I was too overwhelmed to care.
Normally, I would have.
Normally, I would have felt bad.
But right then, I had too much of my own damn drama swallowing me whole to make space for anyone else’s.
By the time I finished, my hands were still shaking.
I stepped out knowing I needed to cover myself, but the moment I walked out of the stall, I froze.
Sitting on the sink was a red dress with matching heels placed neatly beside it.
No card.
No letter.
Just there.
And I already had a sick feeling about who it might have come from.
Then I saw it.
Beside the dress, on a sheet of paper stained with blood, were the words:
‘Red suits you. You’re welcome. —Vinni.’
Vinni?
Was that Vincenzo?
A chill moved down my spine.
I picked up the clothes, then stretched slightly before I even considered putting them on.
No.
No f*****g way was I about to wear something that would make me look pregnant when I had not even taken a test.
A test.
That was exactly what I was doing now that I was in a hospital.
And I was not telling Vincenzo a damn thing.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The guy was lying about everything and acting like a complete prick when all I had done was ask him to treat me like a f*****g equal—
Or at the very least, better than he treated himself.
Knowing those were my only clothes, I decided to wear them and ignore anyone stupid enough to ask if I was pregnant. If Mom asked, I would just say I had eaten and was bloated from food that had not settled yet.
At least until I got the results back.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I had to admit—with all the hate and venom I could manage—that Vinni had been right.
Red did look good on me.
Too good.
It made me look like I was owning this completely f****d-up life of mine instead of barely holding myself together through it.
That only annoyed me more.
I hated that I could not do my makeup.
Hated that my nails were not done.
Hated that my hair was a mess and there was nothing I could do about it.
So I walked out of the bathroom in a foul mood, because there was nothing else left for me to fix.
The moment I reached the front of the hospital, a group of people went rushing toward the bathroom I had just come out of. Before I could stop to wonder why, I went straight to the front desk and spoke.
“Hi, I’m hoping to do a pregnancy test, and I need you to let me see Luna Thumper. I’m her daughter, Ariel.”
She nodded, clearly aware that my title was not something to be brought up—mostly because of Dad overreacting over the fact that I had not been born male.
“Come with me, and I’ll do the test quickly. In one hour, I’ll have the results. You can go to Room 512. She is supposed to be discharged in a couple of hours. Her personal staff will assist her at the pack house. She only needed to rest here for a while as we finished the exams on the future Alphas of the pack.”
She said it with far too much cheer in her voice, and I had to force a smile I did not feel.
I had to fake happiness for my little brothers—two babies who would inherit this pack without lifting a damn finger—while my own life was being ripped apart in a hundred different directions.
And somehow I was still expected to smile.
Still expected to be happy.
Still expected to celebrate.
We walked to the side where there was a small lab room. She drew blood from me, and once she was done, I got up and left.
By the time I made it to my mom’s room, I could already hear her voice from inside as I opened the door.
To everyone else, I was the brat.
The b***h.
The cunt.
The liar.
The disgusting w***e.
But with my mom…
With my mom, I really did try.
I always did.
Because she was my whole world.
She was my life.
My safe place.
My best friend when nobody else wanted anything to do with me.
Seeing her adjust something in the pups’ bassinet stirred something sharp inside me—annoyance, maybe even a hint of jealousy I didn’t want to admit.
I walked in and quietly closed the door behind me, making sure no one would interrupt us.
This moment was mine.
Ours.
When I turned back, she had already finished what she was doing and was looking at me, giving me her full attention.
That alone made me smile.
A real one.
“Mommy… how are you feeling?”
I moved toward her and wrapped my arms around her carefully, trying not to hurt her—but the second I did, I heard her whimper softly against me.
“You mated… oh, my pup is not a pup anymore. How was it? Are you in pain? Was he kind to you?”
Her questions came one after the other, filled with emotion, with worry, with love.
Too much love.
And I wasn’t ready for it.
I froze for a second, still holding her, my mind scrambling.
I hadn’t expected her to go straight there.
But of course she would.
She was my mother.
She always knew.
And she always cared.
More than anyone else ever had.
That made it worse.
Because she deserved the truth.
She deserved honesty.
And I hated lying to her.
I hated it more than anything.
But the truth…
The truth felt too heavy to give her right now.
Too messy.
Too painful.
So I stayed there for a second longer, holding her, trying to find the right words—words that wouldn’t break her, even if they were already breaking me.
- Writer
