Chapter 9
805 Words
I stared at the two pink lines on the cheap pregnancy test, my hand trembling so hard the stick nearly slipped from my fingers.
Positive.
Of course it was positive. I’d known for days—maybe weeks—but seeing it there, stark and undeniable, made it real in a way nothing else had.
I was pregnant.
With Alpha Kai Blackstone’s pup.
I sank onto the edge of the motel bed, the plastic stick still clutched in my fist. The room spun a little, nausea rolling through me again, though I wasn’t sure if it was morning sickness or pure panic.
A baby.
Our baby.
The thought brought a rush of fierce protectiveness that surprised me with its strength. I pressed my free hand to my stomach, imagining the tiny life growing there. A little boy with Kai’s stormy gray eyes? A girl with my freckles?
It didn’t matter. This child was mine. And I would protect them from everything—including the father who’d rejected us both.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. No more crying. I’d done enough of that on the bus ride here.
I wrapped the test in toilet paper and buried it deep in the trash, then splashed cold water on my face. The mirror showed a girl I barely recognized—pale, exhausted, eyes too old for eighteen.
But I was free.
No pack whispers. No pitying looks. No Victoria smirking at me from Kai’s side.
Just me and this baby, starting over.
I pulled out the small notebook I’d bought at the bus station and started a list.
1. Find a job
2. Find a better place to live
3. Doctor appointment
4. Never go back
The last one I underlined twice.
By afternoon, I’d showered, changed into my least-worn jeans and hoodie, and headed out into the city. The streets were overwhelming—hundreds of humans rushing past, cars honking, smells of food and exhaust thick in the air. My weaker senses struggled to filter it all, but no one noticed. No one stared. I was invisible here.
Perfect.
I found a small diner a few blocks away advertising for a waitress. The manager, a kind-faced woman named Rosa with gray streaks in her braid, hired me on the spot.
“Start tomorrow morning,” she said, handing me an apron. “You look like you could use the work.”
I smiled—my first real one in days. “I really could.”
Tips would be cash. No questions about ID or background. Exactly what I needed.
That evening, back in the motel, I treated myself to a proper meal from a nearby takeout place—noodles and chicken that didn’t make me nauseous. I sat cross-legged on the bed, eating slowly, and let myself imagine the future.
A tiny apartment with sunlight streaming through the windows.
A crib in the corner.
Me, singing lullabies to a sleepy baby with dark hair.
No pack. No Alpha. No rejection pain that still throbbed like a phantom limb whenever I thought of him.
I touched my chest, wincing. The bond was severed, but echoes remained. Sometimes, late at night, I swore I could feel him—restless, angry, hurting.
Good.
Let him hurt.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand—the cheap burner I’d bought with Lila’s cash. One message from an unknown number.
**Lila:** It’s me. Are you safe?
Relief flooded me. I typed back quickly.
**Me:** Yes. In the city. Got a job already. Don’t worry.
The reply came almost instantly.
**Lila:** Thank the Goddess. Everyone’s losing their minds here. He’s organizing search parties.
My heart stuttered.
**Me:** Don’t tell him anything.
**Lila:** I won’t. But Evie… there are rumors. About the baby.
I froze, fingers hovering over the screen.
**Me:** What rumors?
**Lila:** That you were pregnant when you left. That it’s his.
Panic clawed up my throat.
**Me:** How do they know?
**Lila:** Healers talk. Omegas noticed things. It’s spreading fast.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
If Kai believed the rumors…
He’d tear the world apart looking for me.
For the pup.
**Me:** I’m not coming back. Ever. Promise you won’t help him find me.
A long pause.
**Lila:** I promise. But be careful. He’s not himself.
I turned the phone off and pulled the battery out, just in case. Paranoia, maybe, but wolves could track tech if they tried hard enough.
I curled up under the thin blanket, one hand on my stomach again.
“We’re okay,” I whispered to the tiny spark inside me. “We don’t need him. We don’t need anyone.”
But as sleep finally pulled me under, I dreamed of gray eyes searching the dark.
And a deep voice calling my name across miles I’d never let him cross.
- Writer
