003
1821 Words
I sat quietly in the room, my back resting against the headboard as a strange unease settled deep within me.
I was not feeling well.
That alone unsettled me, because I hardly ever got sick. My body felt weak, my head light, and dizziness washed over me in waves. What disturbed me the most was the constant urge to spit. It came again and again, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
My wolf stirred restlessly inside me.
She had whispered earlier that these could be signs of pregnancy.
I refused to believe it.
I had never been with anyone. Never allowed anyone near me except for that one night with Lucien. And that night could not possibly lead to something like this. It had been a mistake, something he had denied the very next morning.
This had to be a fever. Nothing more.
The door to the sitting room suddenly flew open, breaking my thoughts.
Lucien barged in, his presence sharp and overwhelming. A small bag dangled from his hand before he tossed it onto the floor without a word.
“Good day,” I greeted quietly.
He did not respond.
“Those are my dirty clothes,” he said coldly. “Take them to the laundry before I return from work.”
I swallowed hard.
“Lucien, I do not feel well. I do not think I can do that today.”
He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“I do not think sickness is an excuse.”
“Please,” I said softly. “I have a slight fever. I am not myself.”
“That is still not an excuse,” he snapped.
Something inside me snapped with him.
“I am tired of this,” I said, my voice trembling. “I cannot continue living like this.”
He stepped closer, towering over me.
“Get those clothes washed before I return,” he ordered.
“I said I am not feeling well,” I tried to explain, but my stomach suddenly twisted violently.
A sharp rumble erupted from within me.
I did not finish my sentence.
I rushed toward the toilet just in time as nausea overtook me. I vomited repeatedly, my body shaking as weakness flooded my limbs.
Behind me, I heard footsteps.
Lucien stood there, watching me vomit, his face unreadable.
When I finally lifted my head, expecting concern, his voice cut through me.
“Get done with that and take my clothes to the laundry.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Really? You do not care at all?”
“You are heartless,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
Before I could react, his hand moved.
Pain exploded across my cheek as the force sent my head snapping to the side. The room spun violently. Darkness crept into my vision as my legs gave out beneath me.
Then everything went black.
The next thing I felt was someone shaking me gently.
“Sara,” a familiar voice called. “Wake up.”
My eyes fluttered open, then closed, then opened again. My body felt heavy, my head throbbing. The last thing I remembered was vomiting. Then the slap. Then nothing.
“Why am I here?” I asked weakly.
“You fainted,” Sierra said softly. “Lucien said you were vomiting earlier.”
I froze.
“Just that?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” she replied. “Why?”
“Did he mention anything else?” I hesitated. “Did he say he hit me?”
Sierra frowned deeply.
“He slapped you?”
I shook my head quickly.
“Never mind.”
She sighed, her worry evident.
“You are not fine, Sara.”
“I just have a slight fever,” I insisted. “Nothing serious.”
“You need to run a test,” she said firmly. “Before this gets worse.”
I forced a weak chuckle.
“There is no need. I will be fine with time.”
Just then, my stomach twisted again.
A low rumble echoed from within me.
Sierra noticed immediately.
“Anything?”
“Um,” I stammered, but the nausea surged stronger.
I rushed back to the toilet and vomited again, my body trembling. Sierra followed closely, holding my hair back as concern deepened in her eyes.
“You are not fine,” she said firmly.
“Maybe,” I whispered.
“You need to run a test,” she insisted.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I replied softly, fear settling into my chest.
I hardly ever got sick.
And deep down I was afraid if it was what I was thinking.
———
The clock on the hospital wall beeped softly, each sound echoing loudly in my head.
The air smelled of antiseptics, herbs, and infused drips, a mixture only pack hospitals carried. I sat stiffly on the bed, my fingers clenched tightly in my lap as my heart pounded against my ribs.
Lucien stood beside me.
That alone felt unreal.
Earlier that morning, with Sierra’s encouragement and my wolf’s restless urging, I had gathered the courage to ask him to come with me to the pack hospital. I had expected refusal. Mockery. Anger.
Instead, he had agreed.
He said nothing on the way here. He did not ask questions. He did not show concern. But his presence alone had stirred something uneasy within me. The bond hummed faintly, confused and fragile, like it did not know whether to rejoice or retreat.
The pack doctor had already examined me thoroughly. Blood samples. Wolf energy readings. A quiet conversation I could not hear. Now all that remained was the result.
I swallowed hard.
Please let it just be a fever, I prayed silently. My palms were damp with sweat. My knees trembled. I could feel Lucien’s Alpha aura beside me, calm yet heavy, dominating the room without effort. He stared straight ahead, his face blank, his thoughts completely closed to me.
Suddenly, the door opened.
The doctor stepped out from the laboratory, a warm smile spreading across his aged face.
My heart dropped.
That smile terrified me.
My breath caught in my throat as fear surged through my body. Why was he smiling? This was not how doctors smiled when delivering bad news. My legs felt weak and my vision blurred slightly.
I forced myself to remain calm.
“Alpha Lucien,” the doctor called as he approached us.
Lucien turned his attention to him.
“Mrs. Sara is weeks pregnant,” the doctor announced confidently.
The world stopped.
“What?” The word burst from my lips before I could stop it.
My eyes widened as the room spun violently around me. Pregnant. Weeks. The meaning crashed into me all at once, knocking the air from my lungs.
The doctor turned to me, his smile gentle.
“Yes, Mrs. Sara. Is that not wonderful news?”
Wonderful.
I felt numb.
I forced my lips to curve into a weak smile and nodded slowly, though my heart was racing wildly. My gaze drifted to Lucien.
He did not smile.
He did not frown.
He simply stood there, silent, his face unreadable.
The doctor cleared his throat.
“Alpha Lucien, you will need to bring her back later this week so we can monitor the pup’s condition”
“Congratulations,” he added warmly.
Lucien did not respond.
His eyes seemed distant, unfocused, as if he were staring at something only he could see. His silence pressed down on my chest, suffocating me.
This was good news.
At least, it should have been.
I was carrying an Alpha’s pup. His heir. A child blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. In any pack, this would have been a celebration.
“I think this is good news,” I said softly, breaking the silence.
Lucien did not answer.
The weight of his quiet rejection hurt more than any insult he had ever thrown at me. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
I hurried after him, my legs shaky as we left the hospital.
“Drive,” he ordered the driver once we got into the car.
The vehicle moved, the sound of the engine filling the thick silence between us. I stared out the window, my mind racing.
Why was he angry?
Even if he claimed that night had been a mistake, it had happened. The bond had responded. Nature had taken its course. The pup was his. There was no denying that truth.
I placed a hand unconsciously on my stomach.
Our child.
The ride ended too soon.
Lucien stepped out of the car and stormed into the pack house without looking back. I struggled to keep up, my heart pounding painfully.
“Lucien,” I called after him.
He did not answer.
We entered the sitting room and he finally stopped, sitting heavily on one of the couches. I stood a few steps away, gathering courage.
“What is wrong?” I asked. “Why are you angry at me?”
He slowly lifted his head.
His eyes were blazing.
Fierce. Cold. Dangerous.
“You are really happy, huh?” he asked bitterly.
I nodded slowly.
“This is not bad news. We should be happy.”
“You think I will accept what that doctor said?” he snapped.
I took a step closer.
“The night we had,” I reminded him gently. “It resulted in this. So accept the baby.”
He laughed.
It was not a laugh of joy or disbelief.
It was cruel.
His lips curved into a dark, devilish smirk that sent chills down my spine.
“That thing is not mine,” he said coldly.
My heart shattered.
“I do not want the bastard,” he continued without hesitation. “Find a way to handle the pregnancy. Do you understand?”
The word echoed in my head.
Bastard.
Abort it.
My eyes widened in horror as the meaning sank in.
He had just called our child a bastard.
And he wanted it gone.
- Writer
