Rejected While Pregnant with the Alpha’s Secret Heir

Chapter 9 – Not Letting Go

For a heartbeat I’m sure I’m hallucinating.

Cars blur past. People stare, then hurry on like I’m contagious. The pavement is hard and unyielding under my knees, and above me—

Corin.

Not a memory. Not a dream. Not a figure framed by pine trees and pack house lights.

A man in a dark shirt and city boots, breathing hard, eyes wild. The scent of rain and cedar and alpha rage hits me like a physical blow.

My wolf surges to the surface with a snarl. Mine, she insists, even as every human part of me wants to shove him away.

I drag in a breath that tastes like exhaust and panic. “Get—off—”

He’s already dropping to the sidewalk, one knee hitting concrete, hands hovering over me like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he touches.

“Aeryn.” My name comes out ragged. “You’re bleeding.”

“Sharp observation,” I choke.

Another bolt of pain twists low in my belly. I fold over it, knuckles white on denim. Warmth slicks my thighs. My heartbeat roars in my ears, but under it I search desperately for the lighter, faster flutter that isn’t mine.

Hold on. Please. Hold on.

“Hey!” Corin’s voice cuts through the noise around us, suddenly sharp and commanding in a way that turns heads. “Somebody call an ambulance.”

A woman with a stroller hesitates, then fumbles out her phone. A man in a suit mutters about traffic and detours, but no one else steps closer.

“Don’t.” I gasp it, grabbing Corin’s wrist. His skin is too hot. Too familiar. “No hospitals.”

His gaze snaps to my face. “You’re bleeding,” he repeats, lower now, as if he can argue reality into something more manageable. “You need help.”

“Clinic,” I manage. “Three blocks. Alvarez. Human. They know me.”

Human is the important word. No pack. No elders. No Morin sniffing around my fear.

Corin stares at me for a half-second that feels like a year. Then his jaw sets.

“Fine,” he says. “My truck’s closer.”

“I can walk,” I lie.

He doesn’t dignify that with an answer. In one smooth motion he gets an arm under my knees, another behind my back, and lifts.

My world tilts.

The last time he carried me like this, my wolf had purred and the bond between us had hummed like a live wire. Now that place in my chest is a jagged scar.

But under my ribs, below his hand, there’s a different hum.

Faint. Frantic.

There.

Relief punches through me so hard I almost sob. He’s still here. Our baby—my baby—is still holding on.

“Breathe,” Corin orders, voice rough. “In. Out. Stay with me, Aeryn.”

I want to tell him he lost the right to give me orders. I want to claw at his shoulders and demand why he’s here, now, in this city I chose specifically because it wasn’t his.

Instead I cling to his shirt and focus on the feel of the life under my palm and the stubborn refusal in my own bones.

I will not lose this child on a sidewalk in a city that doesn’t know our names.

Not to fate.

Not to bad timing.

Not even with the man who broke me holding me like he never meant to let go.